direction of the conversation, and curtailed it with a sharp “Amy is fine. There’s nothing the matter with her manners or charm.”
In truth, she already acted with too many airs.
Quincy looked horrified. “I didn’t mean to suggest there was anything wrong with her, but there are so many finicky rules she needs to remember.”
“I can’t read,” she confessed stiffly.
Amy next offered Edmund a cutting glance as if she was vexed that he had made such a fuss about her illiteracy. He glowered back at her, slighted. He had onlywanted to spare her any embarrassment. He folded his arms across his chest and vowed to sit quietly in the plush chair beside the window, and refrain from uttering another word.
“Oh…well…we’ll teach you letters some other time.” Quincy opened the book. “I’ll just read the passages to you now and we can practice the mannerisms and movements.”
Amy looked back at him and nodded, smiling slightly. “I’m good at memorization.”
“Splendid!” He flipped through the pages. “Let’s begin with conversation. The book is divided between the sexes, for there are different tenets for men and women. Ladies ‘must exhibit sensibility and tact. Be sure to inquire about your partner’s interests, for one always loves to comment about one’s affairs.’ Now”—he closed the book—“we’re seated together at supper. How will you begin the conversation?”
Amy straightened her spine and folded her hands in her lap. “I…” She slumped her shoulders in defeat. “I don’t know.”
“Well, what do you know about me?”
“You’re a sailor and a gentleman.”
He chuckled. “I’m not so sure about the latter.”
She made a wry face.
“Let’s keep to the topic of sailing, shall we? How will you exhibit tact and sensibility, while inquiring about my interests?”
She sighed and primped herself for another attempt at polite conversation. “Good evening, Mr. Hawkins.”
“Good evening, Miss…” He frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t know your last name.”
Edmund mulled that over, too, concluding he wasn’t familiar with her surname, either. There was still so much he didn’t know about the lovely Amy. He found it surprising that he was eager to learn more about her, for he wasn’t the sort to fret about details…especially when he was already privy to the woman’s most salacious secret.
“It’s Peel,” she whispered, as if Quincy had made a genuine social blunder.
Quincy grinned. “Good evening, Miss Peel.”
“I understand you are just arrived from a long tour at sea?”
“That’s right, Miss Peel. I’ve spent the last six months off the coast of Africa.”
“Africa, really? Have you ever been to Madagascar?”
Edmund suspected Amy had suddenly overlooked her lessons in favor of a more earnest, even sensational interest in the wicked queen’s sordid past. He observed her arched spine as she leaned more closely toward Quincy, seeking answers.
“I’ve been there once,” he admitted.
“What was it like?”
The couple prattled on for a few more minutes before Quincy grinned, bringing the conversation to an end.
“Well done, Amy,” he praised. “You maintained the conversation in a pleasant manner and demonstrated true intelligence with your questions.”
She beamed—and it squelched Edmund’s heart to know Quincy had made her feel proud of herself, and he had not.
“I don’t see what any of this has to do with being a lady’s maid or companion,” Edmund groused, breaking his vow of silence. “Amy needs to know how to look after her future mistress, is all.”
“A woman expects her companion to be a proper young lady.” Quincy eyed his brother in a critical manner. “Amy needs to meet her employer’s expectations or she won’t make much headway in the field.”
Edmund quieted at that sound reasoning, however much it irked him.
Amy, meanwhile, narrowed her scintillating green eyes on him again, clearly cross, before she
In truth, she already acted with too many airs.
Quincy looked horrified. “I didn’t mean to suggest there was anything wrong with her, but there are so many finicky rules she needs to remember.”
“I can’t read,” she confessed stiffly.
Amy next offered Edmund a cutting glance as if she was vexed that he had made such a fuss about her illiteracy. He glowered back at her, slighted. He had onlywanted to spare her any embarrassment. He folded his arms across his chest and vowed to sit quietly in the plush chair beside the window, and refrain from uttering another word.
“Oh…well…we’ll teach you letters some other time.” Quincy opened the book. “I’ll just read the passages to you now and we can practice the mannerisms and movements.”
Amy looked back at him and nodded, smiling slightly. “I’m good at memorization.”
“Splendid!” He flipped through the pages. “Let’s begin with conversation. The book is divided between the sexes, for there are different tenets for men and women. Ladies ‘must exhibit sensibility and tact. Be sure to inquire about your partner’s interests, for one always loves to comment about one’s affairs.’ Now”—he closed the book—“we’re seated together at supper. How will you begin the conversation?”
Amy straightened her spine and folded her hands in her lap. “I…” She slumped her shoulders in defeat. “I don’t know.”
“Well, what do you know about me?”
“You’re a sailor and a gentleman.”
He chuckled. “I’m not so sure about the latter.”
She made a wry face.
“Let’s keep to the topic of sailing, shall we? How will you exhibit tact and sensibility, while inquiring about my interests?”
She sighed and primped herself for another attempt at polite conversation. “Good evening, Mr. Hawkins.”
“Good evening, Miss…” He frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t know your last name.”
Edmund mulled that over, too, concluding he wasn’t familiar with her surname, either. There was still so much he didn’t know about the lovely Amy. He found it surprising that he was eager to learn more about her, for he wasn’t the sort to fret about details…especially when he was already privy to the woman’s most salacious secret.
“It’s Peel,” she whispered, as if Quincy had made a genuine social blunder.
Quincy grinned. “Good evening, Miss Peel.”
“I understand you are just arrived from a long tour at sea?”
“That’s right, Miss Peel. I’ve spent the last six months off the coast of Africa.”
“Africa, really? Have you ever been to Madagascar?”
Edmund suspected Amy had suddenly overlooked her lessons in favor of a more earnest, even sensational interest in the wicked queen’s sordid past. He observed her arched spine as she leaned more closely toward Quincy, seeking answers.
“I’ve been there once,” he admitted.
“What was it like?”
The couple prattled on for a few more minutes before Quincy grinned, bringing the conversation to an end.
“Well done, Amy,” he praised. “You maintained the conversation in a pleasant manner and demonstrated true intelligence with your questions.”
She beamed—and it squelched Edmund’s heart to know Quincy had made her feel proud of herself, and he had not.
“I don’t see what any of this has to do with being a lady’s maid or companion,” Edmund groused, breaking his vow of silence. “Amy needs to know how to look after her future mistress, is all.”
“A woman expects her companion to be a proper young lady.” Quincy eyed his brother in a critical manner. “Amy needs to meet her employer’s expectations or she won’t make much headway in the field.”
Edmund quieted at that sound reasoning, however much it irked him.
Amy, meanwhile, narrowed her scintillating green eyes on him again, clearly cross, before she
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