AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He lifted his glass with a slight, circular flourish of his wrist that caused the liquid to slosh gently. “I shall demonstrate and then we will settle to the cribbage. Consumption of high-quality spirits involves three phases. Attend me, for I shall not repeat myself for the laggards in the class.”
Rothhaven explained that one first evaluated the appearance of the drink. How quick or sluggish was the liquid to run down the sides of the glass? How deep was the color, how clear? Then the aroma was to be savored by holding the glass at chin level and nosing the scent. First impressions mattered, but some brandies evolved thereafter into a more complex fragrance—or a worse stink.
The second phase was the experience on the tongue—his words—and that involved sampling a small taste, rolling it about in the mouth, and pausing before actually swallowing. He delivered his lecture seated at the card table, demonstrating as he expounded, and Althea was reluctantly enthralled.
His hand cradled the glass just so—casually cherishing fine crystal without a hint of affectation.
He spoke with the confidence of an expert and yet his explanations were simple and clear. He focused on his topic with a controlled relish that brought Althea’s attention not to the brandy, but to the man holding forth.
And to his mouth as he sipped, considered, and expounded.
“The finish is not to be overlooked,” he said. “The entire experience, no matter how lovely, can be sabotaged by ignoring the finish or rushing it. Rather like”—he took another slow, considering sip, eyeing Althea over the rim of his glass—“a kiss.”
Althea’s imagination had gone to an analogy even naughtier than kissing. This whole digression had taken on untoward overtones, and she suspected Rothhaven had done that on purpose. More behaving as he pleased rather than as he ought.
“I find a rousing argument also needs a good finish,” she said. “A quip, a cut, a double entendre, but either I think of those clever words as I’m retiring for the night hours later or what comes to mind is more vulgar than even I am willing to say in decent company.”
“The French call that the wisdom of the staircase. We are very clever and well spoken in our heads as we either go down the steps to climb into our coaches or up the steps to seek our beds. Shall we to the cards, my lady?”
“I would rather you delivered another lecture.” Althea swirled her drink experimentally, then brought it to her nose.
“I never lecture. Don’t rush your evaluation of the brandy’s appearance. Hold it up to the light, mentally compare it to others you’ve sampled.”
She complied, though the brandy looked like brandy to her. Garnet liquid with amber fire in its depths when examined by candlelight. Quite pretty, actually.
“Perhaps the next time you’re not-lecturing, you could impart a few insights about those witty retorts at which I fail so regularly.”
“Look at me.”
Never accede to a man giving orders.Never. Althea continued studying her brandy. “For a fellow who professes not to lecture, Your Grace, you certainly—”
“I am imparting an insight. As you nose the brandy,look at me. Convey with a glance that you take your time evaluating what’s on offer, that your judgment is neither hurried nor ill-informed regarding any matter of substance. Look at me as if you’ll take the same care evaluatingme, should I ever be worthy of your whole attention.”
Althea regarded him, realizing that this little discourse on proper consumption of spirits applied to tea, chocolate, wine—any social occasion where a beverage was served. She sipped, and found that the brandy had acquired subtleties of taste, sensation, and aroma for being more carefully considered.
Just as some people became more interesting upon closer acquaintance.
“I daresay you have a talent for this,” Rothhaven muttered, taking up the cribbage board and extracting the pegs from the compartment on the end. “Do we cut for the first deal, or shall the lady go first?”
Althea stalled by taking another sip of her brandy—a lovely potation, now that she bothered to notice. Warming rather than fiery, sunshine and fruit with a hint of sweetness instead of the syrupy banality of a cordial.
Rothhaven’s question—whether to cut for the deal or observe the inane ladies-first protocol—was another test of some sort. Althea could bow to good manners and have the advantage of the points in the first crib, or she could flout convention in one detail and open the game without respect to gender niceties.
She might not have the first crib in that case, but she would imply that convention did not always control her.
“It’s always like this, isn’t it?” she said, setting her drink aside. “Every moment in company is an opportunity to either conform to or conflict with expectations. The choice is mine.” Why hadn’t she seen this more clearly? On an intuitive level, she’d known that breaking rules carried consequences, but she’d not considered that breaking rules could havebenefits.
Interpretingrules opened up worlds of opportunity for gaining the upper hand in society.
“Precisely,” Rothhaven said, setting the deck before her. “You choose, and others can either accept your choices or find someone else to bore with their small-mindedness.”
Interesting point of view for a man who chose to hole up in his manor house like a fox in his covert.
“So what is your pleasure, Lady Althea? Shall you have the first deal or do we cut the deck?”
“You are my guest,” she said. “Why don’t you decide?”
He snorted, whether with humor or derision Althea couldn’t say, and she probably wasn’t supposed to care. He picked up the deck and began dealing, which hadn’t been one of the options under discussion.
