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“Pardon me, Olive, but I do not pay attention to things like that. You’re perfect, just the way you are.”
Olivia was tempted to roll her eyes. Of course, he’d say that. He didn’t want to bother chaperoning and tutoring Olivia on proper conduct every step of the way. Still, it seemed so liberating when there was a person who didn’t demand anything of her. He was content with her, no matter what she said or did.
Olivia tapped her foot nervously as she looked around. Caroline sat at the far side of the table, close to the Marquess of Roth. The Duke of Kensington sat by her side. She was calm and composed, as always. Lavinia sat on the opposite side of the table with her father, her gaze on Kensington.
“All right,” Jarvis said, pulling her away from her thoughts. “Since I am supposed to be tutoring you, let us see how you do with polite conversation.”
“I am not very polite.”
Jarvis directed her a soft smile. “Let’s pretend for a moment that I am Bradshaw.”
“Oh, good.” Olivia instantly perked up.
“I shall start the conversation, and you have to act as naturally as possible.”
“I am ready.”
“Is the food to your liking?” he asked.
Olivia looked at her plate and scrunched up her nose. “The chunks in the soup are rather large to fit in my mouth, but—”
Jarvis choked on his soup and stealthily wiped at his mouth, still coughing.
“Are you all right? I told you, the chunks are too large. Did one get stuck in your throat?”
Jarvis directed an amused gaze toward her, although his face was still red from choking, and a whisper of tears appeared in his eyes. “No, dear,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Ladies should not discuss the size of… food chunks or anything they put in their mouths.”
Olivia frowned in confusion. “But… you asked me about food.”
“Yes, and the polite thing to do would be to answer that yes, the food is to your liking.”
“Even if it isn’t?”
“Especially if it isn’t,” Jarvis said with a nod.
“Then why ask?”
Jarvis shrugged. “To… maintain a conversation.”
Olivia became more confused by the moment. “This is rather foolish, do you not agree?”
“I certainly do.”
“Then why participate in such a charade?”
“It’s not a charade. It’s a social dance. First, you establish a connection—a conversation. Once you ask an inane question or two, you move on to deeper questions.”
Olivia blinked. Now that sounded interesting. “Such as?”
Jarvis turned fully toward her. “Your love for theater, art, or riding. Thus, gentlemen figure out whether they would have suitable activities for both them and the lady, and if there are, they can ask the lady on an outing. Or, in your case, you see if you’d be bored out of your wits with this gentleman. So once this outing inevitably happens, you come prepared.”
“What should I do if I predicted the outing to be boring?”
“Come up with topics to steer the conversation toward. Or… bring the cards.”
Olivia almost spewed ratafia out of her mouth from surprised laughter. She coughed, choking on the drink. She looked around and saw disapproving glances thrown her way. Well, at least Bradshaw wasn’t there to witness her disgrace.
Jarvis smiled and handed her a napkin as if he didn’t notice the withering glances their way.
