“I’m sure they won’t be much longer, Your Grace,” Mr. Tidmore said behind Bray.
“We’ve just started,” Louisa said softly. “Would you like to join us?”
Would I?
Bray didn’t speak but went to the head of the table and pulled out his chair. They all sat down.
Mr. Tidmore said, “I’ll have your place set at once, Your Grace.”
One maid served the girls while another laid a plate, silver, and a glass in front of him. He kept looking at Louisa. He didn’t want to make any more mistakes. He didn’t know what had brought her and her sisters to his house, but now that they were here, he didn’t want them to leave.
He’d been at countless dinner parties with the finest china and silver, and the best wines money could buy, but he’d never sat down at his own table. He really didn’t know what to do, so he picked up his wine and sipped it.
After everyone had been served beef, potatoes, and something green, Bray noticed that no one picked up her fork.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked, looking from one sister to the next.
“You are at the head of the table, Your Grace,” Gwen said. “We are waiting for you to pick up your fork.”
“Oh, yes.” He knew that but had forgotten. Bray reached for his fork.
“Do I have to eat that green mash on my plate?” Sybil asked.
“You know you do,” Louisa admonished, and picked up her fork.
“I don’t want to eat it either,” Bonnie said.
“It looks like—”
“Sybil,” Louisa said, quickly cutting her off. “Mind your manners.”
Bray didn’t like the looks of the green food either. “Would you girls like to know what we used to do with food we didn’t want to eat when I was at Eton?” he asked, setting down his fork.
“Yes,” came the loud and collective answer.
“The rolls were always hard.” He picked up his roll and hit it twice on the table. “Much harder than these, as I remember.” He took his knife and cut a hole about the size of a penny in one end of it and laid the piece of crust aside. “After you’ve cut the hole, take your knife like this and scrape out the entire soft center. Be careful you don’t break the crust.”
The girls watched him with rapt attention, and so did Louisa. He kept returning his attention to her. He couldn’t believe she was actually sitting at his table.
“Once you have the bread out of the middle, take your spoon and carefully poke the green mash into the hole like this. You may not get it all in there, but you’ll get most of it. Then shove the little piece of crust back into the hole like this to cover up the evidence. See.” He turned the bread around and showed them there was no sign of green mash inside the roll.
They clapped and laughed.
“I’m going to do it,” Sybil said.
“Me, too,” Bonnie agreed.
“Do you know what you are teaching my sisters, Your Grace?” Louisa asked.
He looked at her. There was no reprimand in her tone or her expression. “Yes, Miss Prim, I do,” he said, and picked up his fork again.
The girls laughed and chatted as they worked on their rolls.
“May I speak, Your Grace?” Lillian asked.
“You can always speak in this house, Lillian.”
“I learned the score that plays on your music box. I can play it on the pianoforte for you after dinner if you would like.”
