David bowed to her. “Good morning, my lady. Best wishes for your mother’s recovery.” There was an awkward pause that he felt obligated to fill so he added, “I see you have more flowers.” He immediately wanted to kick himself for the comment. Not only was it obvious, it was clumsy. Couldn’t he find something better to say? He should have told her how beautiful she looked. How she made the rest of the space fade into a blur when she stepped into the room. How the scent of her perfume put the fragrance of the flowers to shame. Damn. What was becoming of him? Was he in danger of waxing poetic? He sincerely hoped not. Army men were not poetic.
“Yes, well, gentlemen can be so predictable,” she replied with a sigh, waving her hand toward the foyer filled with flowers.
He arched a brow. “I take it you don’t prefer flowers?”
“Flowers are lovely,” she replied, with another noncommittal wave of her hand. “They’re just…predictable. Mama said that Father practically bought a conservatory for her every day the first sennight they were courting.”
“Yes, your mother mentioned they married quickly. I suppose she was impressed with the flowers.”
“She was,” Annabelle replied in a monotone voice. “Little substance though they held.”
“It sounds as if it will take more than some flowers to impress you,” he prodded.
Annabelle shook her head. She was staring unseeing at the far wall. She swallowed hard. “Much more. Flowers and gifts are merely distractions. A man’s character is what’s truly important.”
Well, that was interesting. “Tell me.” He stepped closer to her, intent on finding out what a lady like her would prefer to a vase full of predictable flowers. “What would you rather receive?”
She stepped in a small circle contemplating the question before turning to him and saying, “A book perhaps. One the gentleman picked out because he had asked me what sort of books I prefer to read. One he saw in a bookshop while browsing and it made him think of me.”
“You like to read?” Reading was one of David’s favorite things to do. So much more enjoyable than talking or exchanging pleasantries with strangers.
“Yes, do you?” she asked, a hopeful look on her face.
“Indeed, I do.” He rubbed his chin. “I regretted that I could only fit one book in my rucksack on the Continent.”
She clasped her hands together. “Oh, do tell me, what was it?”
“In English you would call it The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha, but I had the Spanish version.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of it. Don Quixote. A comedy, is it not?”
The hint of a smile touched his lips. “Marianne gave it to me. She said I would need something silly to cheer me on the battlefield. But I read it so many times, I must say my opinion of the book changed, more than once.”
“How so?” she asked, a truly interested look on her face.
“At first I thought it was a comedy, then I came to regard it as a tragic novel, because Quixote was considered mad and treated like a lunatic. But in the end, I found it to be life-changing.”
She continued to study his face. “How so?”
David took a deep breath. “The book saved my life, in more ways than one. Reading it kept me sane all those long, sleepless nights in the cold. I was fortunate enough to be in an officer’s tent, of course, where I could read by candlelight. The average soldier did not have such luxuries.”
“How else did it save your life?” Lady Annabelle asked, her brow furrowed.
A humorless smile on his lips, David said, “It quite literally saved me from death. When the French captured me and a small group of my men, they began executing the officers. Only when they got to me, they rifled through my rucksack and when they saw the book, they realized I could speak Spanish. That was of use to them, so they kept me alive as an interpreter.”
Lady Annabelle gasped and cupped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, dear, now that you mention it, I remember Marianne telling me you were spared because of your ability to speak Spanish.”
He nodded. “By giving me that book, my sister helped save my life,” he breathed. “I’ll be grateful to her forever.”
“My brother saved me too,” Lady Annabelle whispered, a faraway look in her eyes.
David was not certain he’d heard her correctly. “Pardon me?”
“Never mind.” Lady Annabelle shook her head and replaced the stark look on her face with a bright smile. “I didn’t mean to bring up such a sad subject. We have lessons to attend to. Shall we begin?”
“By all means,” David replied, his smile equally as bright. He clasped his hands behind his back. He shouldn’t have said so much. Lady Annabelle didn’t want to hear poignant tales of battlefields and being a prisoner of war. No one wanted to hear those things. He turned to her. “What will you teach me today?”
She nodded. “I thought we’d begin with some rules of decorum. Would you like a pen and some paper to take notes?” She folded her hands together primly.
David nearly snorted. “Notes? Why would I take notes?”
She blinked at him. “How do you intend to remember it all?”
He pointed to his temple. “With my mind.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “Very well, but there are a great many rules.”
“How many?” He was beginning to feel as if he’d been shut in small space and couldn’t breathe.
She ran a fingertip across one fine brow. “There’s no defined number, but I do recommend taking notes.”
He pursed his lips. “Try me.”
“If you insist.” She took a deep breath and settled her hands into her lap again. “Let’s begin with general manners.”
“Sounds delightful,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes at her.
She lifted her chin, barely smiling at his playfulness. “Now then. First, a man never smokes in the presence of ladies. He may smoke with the other gentlemen after a dinner party when the ladies have left the room.”
David cracked a smile. “What is the rule for a lady smoking in front of a gentleman?”
Lady Annabelle widened her eyes at him. “Well, for one thing, if a gentleman happens to be privy to such an event, he should never, ever, be ill-mannered enough to mention it, either to the lady herself or any of her relations.”
David laughed. “I see. Very well. Duly noted.”
Lady Annabelle nodded and continued. “You must stand sedately. You must not fidget, scratch, or otherwise act impatiently.”
David pursed his lips. “What if I am impatient?”
“Pretend you are not,” Lady Annabelle said, straightening her shoulders and sitting up even more erect in the chair.
David drew his brows together. “I don’t like pretending.”
Lady Annabelle lifted her nose in the air ever so slightly. “That’s unfortunate. A great deal of the correct behavior in the ton involves pretending.”
David rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised? Very well, no fidgeting. Go on.”
She took another breath. “On the street, a gentleman always rides or walks on the outside of a lady so that she is protected.”
David nodded. “That’s easy enough. I’ve been doing that for years with my mother and sister.”