Page 9 of His Unforgettable Bride (Bride Ships: New Voyages #4)

Nine

There is a happy medium between mumbling

and screaming. Strive to attain it.

“N ever mutter, drone, or stutter,” Juliet whispered as she entered the empty dining room. She liked muttering and saw no reason to stop, provided she did it privately. Livy’s other specific instructions were tastier to swallow.

Juliet glanced at the shiny brass clock on the dining room mantel she’d polished two days before. Her first formal etiquette lesson was to have begun forty-five minutes ago. Where was Livy, the one leading the instructions tonight?

Juliet carefully lowered a heavy pitcher of water to the sideboard. An oil painting of a distinguished gentleman and his black hunting dog hung on the wall and stared back at her. Most likely, he was the sisters’ esteemed father, though he barely resembled his daughters, other than the grimace he shared with Tabitha.

Livy poked her head into the room. A crocheted shawl covered her shoulders, and she’d fastened a small doily adornment with a pink ribbon into her curly hair. Evidently, she dressed to please herself. “I seem to have misplaced my manners manual. Have you seen it?”

In addition to running late, Livy also tended to lose things. “I don’t believe it’s in here.”

“Very well. After it’s found, we’ll start your instructions in earnest. But before I forget, a true lady must have a pure heart. All right, off I go again. Hippity hop.” Livy bustled back down the hallway, heading toward the front door.

A pure heart? What did that mean? Had Juliet done something impure? Not that she could think of. Besides, did anybody on earth genuinely have a pure heart? She hadn’t turned the pages of a Bible in years, but based on her recollections, the answer was no.

Juliet stepped closer to the long dining table she’d set for three upon Icala’s instructions. Candlelight flickered on the white plates with silver trim and sparkled on the abundance of silverware. Who else would join the sisters for supper? Not her since she still preferred eating alone in the kitchen. Perhaps a friend. Or maybe Gray was a possibility, though he hadn’t left the sitting room since his arrival.

Honestly, it could be anyone.

All day her thoughts had drifted to him as she’d cleaned fireplaces, swept floors, and listened to Livy advise her about muttering and such things. She couldn’t stop wondering about his identity. What was his livelihood? Based on his gentlemanly ways, he probably held a gentlemanly job. Was he a banker? A jeweler? An attorney?

Perhaps he was the genuine Alex Sherwood. Nobody else by that name had arrived, and the open house wasn’t that far in the future—approximately five weeks—if they received a new shipment of supplies in time.

Apparently, Alex had agreed in a letter to visit several weeks ago and assist with building the tearoom. Even though he was a gentleman, he’d picked up carpentry skills while living in the wilderness towns of the mountains, where such skills were necessary for survival. If Gray wasn’t him, where was the real nephew, and what kind of man would leave his aunts in a lurch?

A lousy one, for certain.

Even though Gray had an uppity bent, he had surprised her by inquiring about her grandfather and childhood, then listening without interruption. Was there a better gift than someone wanting to hear what a person had to say? She thought not.

“Coming, Juliet!” Livy called from another room. “Go ahead and take a seat.”

Juliet moved to the far end of the table, scooted back a chair, sat, and plopped her elbows on the table’s edge.

Twenty-five random kitchen items for her lesson stared back at her, everything from sugar tongs to a nut pick.

Breathless, Livy rushed into the room, opening her book. When she reached Juliet’s side, she tapped her arm with her manual. “One must never prop her elbows onto the tabletop.”

It was just a minor mistake and hopefully the last one for the night. Juliet straightened her spine like the room’s fire poker. With perfect timing, the blaze in the hearth crackled.

“Where was I?” Livy perused the pages of her floppy-paged manual. “Furthermore, a lady never interrupts a meal’s harmony by uttering phrases such as ‘this dish is too salty’ or ‘so-and-so burnt the beef again.’”

What an odd little book, complete with peculiar little rules. “I’ve not lived in your home for long, but I don’t think Icala would do either of those things, ma’am.”

“Of course not. He’s a fabulous cook. I only offer examples.” Livy resumed reading. “Also, a lady never eats too fast or too slow. And it’s improper to use your napkin as a handkerchief.”

“What if Icala adds too much pepper and I sneeze?”

“I suspect you tease. Nonetheless, here’s a tip. When the first twitch of a sneeze arrives, do this.” Livy placed her forefinger in the middle of her top lip. “It stops the itching straight away. Isn’t that ingenious?” Livy’s ample bosom puffed out as if she were pleased with her helpful hint.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Tabitha and Gray entered the dining room, with her supporting his elbow. They paused just inside the door. Tabitha’s brow spiked. “Oh, you’re not finished with the lesson.”

“We’ve barely started.” Juliet stood, and her pulse elevated. She’d never seen Gray fully cleaned up and dressed in anything besides drawers or a nightshirt. Even though he now wore baggy clothes—dark trousers and a white shirt once belonging to the sisters’ late father—she still noticed how his broad chest trimmed to a narrower waist.

Although Gray’s head still pained him, and he suffered double vision from time to time, his facial bruising and swollenness had faded, revealing the perfect angles of his nose and cheekbones. Tonight, his eyes held a bright alertness. A bandage still covered his head, and he remained unshaven, the scruff adding to his appeal.

What a handsome, handsome man.

Juliet shook her head. Snakes alive. What in tarnation had come over her? She ran her hands down the front of her dress, another castoff from Tabitha.

Over the last couple of days, she’d helped take care of him occasionally under either Tabitha’s or Livy’s supervision. She’d also tidied his room now and again. But she hadn’t had a chance to talk to him alone again, and she’d not mind another opportunity.

Although tall herself, Tabitha glanced up at the man at her side. “It seems we’re early for supper, Gray. Would you prefer to return to your room or wait here?”

Not here, not here, not here . How embarrassing if she failed her etiquette lesson in front of him, in front of anyone. But especially him.

“I prefer a change of venue if nobody minds.”

Oh, she minded with a fervor, but she couldn’t say so, could she?

Tabitha accompanied him to the opposite side of where Juliet stood. His strides appeared capable and steady, and then he sat with ease while Tabitha began to light the candelabra at the center of the table.

Livy smiled at him tenderly. “Your pallor is much improved from earlier.”

“I am much improved overall, thank you.”

The knot in Juliet’s belly tugged tighter. What if she mixed up the gravy and soup ladles or mustard and salt spoons during her etiquette lesson? If so, he’d have a front row seat as she performed like a fool. But she couldn’t very well kick him from the room, now could she? “Any new flickers of memory today?”

“Not yet, though I keep hoping it is only a matter of time.”

Was he as optimistic as he proclaimed? If so, his stance should serve him well. In his place, she would probably burrow in bed until her Maker called her home. On second thought, she wouldn’t mind forgetting the bleaker parts of her past.

“Are you eager to learn the differences between finger bowls and preserve dishes?” His voice held a huskiness she hadn’t noticed or appreciated until now. Coupled with his teasing tone, the combination appealed a little too much. In the candlelight, his light brown eyes reminded her of cider. And she sure loved cider.

“Do I have a choice?”

Tabitha’s all-seeing eyes trapped Juliet. “Come now. Do you want our help to become more ladylike, or have you changed your mind? Because if you have, we’ll move on to our meal sooner rather than later.”

The sisters exchanged knowing glances.

Obviously, they were giving her a choice, hadn’t coerced her, and were full of graciousness so far. “I’d be a numbskull to miss out on this opportunity. I need to corral my worries, that’s all.”

“Worries about what, child?” Livy closed her book and pressed the manual against her hefty chest.

Concentrating on anything other than the man at the table. Possibly failing miserably at the lessons. Disappointing the two women. Perhaps even showing everyone that she could never be more than a poor, mannerless orphan.

“My worries aren’t important.” Delicious scents rose from the kitchen, and she drew a hefty whiff. “But maybe you all should eat first? Icala’s wonderful roasted beef and fixings smell heavenly.”

“It will keep.” Livy rattled off the names of every item on Juliet’s end of the table, starting at the upper left corner. When she finished, she smiled much too cheerfully at her. “Show me the tea knife.”

The temptation to roll her eyes struck hard, yet Juliet refrained. Tea knife. Was the question a trick? “A knife for tea don’t make no sense.”

“Any sense,” the sisters’ voices chimed together.

Gray caught her eye and motioned toward his right, where only one knife sat on that side of the table.

Juliet swiped up the utensil. “Here it is!”

Livy clapped daintily. “Hurrah.”

Tabitha was busy surveying her place setting. “Show us the dessert spoon.”

Gray reached for his water glass but, before doing so, touched a spoon that sat above the plate.

Juliet grabbed a matching utensil in front of her. “Here.”

“I’m such a good teacher.” Livy practically preened.

When Gray’s lips quirked into the beginning of a smile, Juliet couldn’t resist a grin of her own. Maybe learning to be ladylike would be easier than she suspected. Especially if he became an ally.