Shit. All these years and I’d been peeing wrong.
Serviettes are for children’s parties. In polite company, we usenapkins.
I thought it was the other way round. Was she trying to trick me? I made a mental note not to refer to anything made of cloth, just in case.
Settees are council house. Sofas are acceptable. “Couch” is for Americans—avoid.
Wow. Did people really care about this sort of thing? DidLiam? No, I was sure I’d heard him say “couch.” Maybe I was just too common to notice? Thank God I was a sofa girl already. Who knew I was secretly so posh?
“Pardon?” indicates middle-class striving. Simply say “what?” and let breeding do therest.
I thought “pardon” was polite? Crap, this was a minefield.
If unsure which fork to use, wait. Someone more socially adept will gofirst.
But what if I sat next to someone whowasn’tsocially adept? Or was everyone here trained in all this? I’d just stay close to Liam all night, to be on the safe side.
In Britain, men wear dinner jackets. “Tuxedo” suggests America, or that one is trying toohard.
I was glad I wasn’t American trying to navigate this. You’d be categorized as classless on a secret scorecard before you even opened your mouth.
Backgrounds should be implied, neverexplained.
Ambition is admirable only onceachieved.
Confidence is attractive; effort isnot.
Self-control is simply goodmanners.
Above all, never let them see youtrying.
It was like some sort of dystopian wall art from Buckingham Palace. There were pages and pages of this. How could she havewhipped it up so quickly? My fingers slid down the pages. I wasn’t sure if I was more horrified or fascinated.
Then, at the end—
Never mention Didcot Park Community School. If questioned, refer to the county of Oxfordshire. Vague is better thanhumiliated.
What the hell was Didcot Park Community School? I grabbed a pen and underlined it. Maybe I’d better check. The aristocracy seemed to have so many codes and rules, and none of it made sense.
I looked at the time—already past five. Not long to get dressed, assuming Liam needed at least half an hour to use the room, too. I’d shower and wash my hair, and—what was it Monish always said about difficult sales pitches? Visualize success.
Really—that was all this was, another pitch. I could handle it. It would be fine.
The bathroom was still steamy when I came out twenty minutes later. I’d wrapped the big fluffy towel around my head and grabbed a robe from behind the door.
I crossed to the bed and sat down again, the mattress dipping slightly under my weight, and picked up the guide from where I’d left it.
There was a rap on the door, sharp and annoyed.
God, would that woman leave me alone?
“Come in,” I yelled. I was done with standing on ceremony for her.
The door opened slowly, and Liam walked in. He saw me sitting on the bed and stopped, like he shouldn’t have been there.
“Oh,” I said. “I thought it was Bonnie.”
“Sorry, I can come back,” he said, easing out the door.
