The Virtuous Ward - By Karla Darcy Page 0,16

encourage the gentlemen to see her as the perfect wife. Dignity is the cornerstone for elegant behavior."

"Miss Endicott, my governess, would be delighted to hear you thus advise me," Amity said, wrinkling her nose at his words. She sighed in resignation and looked with gravity into Max's face. "I will try, sir, but there are so many temptations for my attention that I sometimes forget my good intentions."

"Well, my dear, both Cousin Hester and myself will be here to remind you of your obligations. Although you were not aware of my presence I was witness to your arrival today."

Amity blushed at his pejorative tone. He patted her shoulder in a reassuring gesture but she suspected she was in for a lecture. In her mind's eye she could picture Miss Endicott nodding with assurance.

"I could hardly approve your arrival since the entire operation lacked the proper dignity. You should have waited to accept the assistance of the footman from the coach instead of scrambling out as though you had been catapulted."

"But I am neither old nor infirm to need such assistance," she argued. "It seems so silly."

"Rules of propriety are never silly," Max pronounced. "When you descended, your bonnet was askew and your hands were bare."

"I lost my mittens," Amity admitted. "I did not think anyone would notice."

"Whether someone will notice is beside the point. A lady is measured by the attention she pays to the details. It may seem like a small affectation but people set great store by these very trivialities. Omissions of small points of etiquette are a signal that one's manners are superficial, not a part of one's character." Max's voice was encouraging as he continued, "Perhaps, if you have a penchant for losing something, you might consider carrying an extra for emergencies."

"I would have to carry a portmanteau, since I am constantly losing things," Amity muttered. She pushed at a lock of hair that had escaped from the ribbon when she bent her head and tucked it behind her ear.

"And never, Amity," Max's voice was stiff with disapproval, "I repeat, never are you to notice, let alone discuss with a servant, the, eh, personal habits of your dog. A lady is above the flesh."

"Life was very much simpler at Beech House."

"You will learn, my dear," Max said as he smiled down at the girl. "Once you begin to think before you leap into action, things will become rather easier. In the meantime you must cultivate a more formal attitude toward the servants. You must not chatter with them as if they are your friends. They are here to serve you, not entertain you."

Amity had begun to believe that she might be able to learn the ways of the born but had not considered she would be asked to make such a sacrifice. She had always had friends among the servants. At Beech House, they were her only friends. She made no comment but she resolved that she would concentrate on her other faults and perhaps this one area might be overlooked. Raising her head, she smiled at her guardian.

"I shall try to improve my behavior, Max. Truly I will."

"Good show," he said, grateful that she had listened to his criticisms. "I realize that you have had few examples to follow but I hope when you meet Miss Waterston you will consider her demeanor and pattern yourself after her. She has a delicacy of mind and grace of manner that is the essence of the refined gentlewoman."

Amity heard the note of approval in her guardian's voice and vowed to copy the behavior of Honoria to a nicety. She could tell by the expression on Max's face that she must be very special. She wondered if he were in love with her. And now that she was getting to know her guardian, she hoped that if he was, Honoria returned his regard in full measure. It would be most romantic if Max planned to marry. On that happy thought, she was eager to go to London and make the acquaintance of the fashionable Miss Waterston.

Chapter Four

"Come on, Muffin," Amity whispered, nudging the great shaggy animal off the satin loveseat. "It's time for your walk."

Grabbing a handful of fur on his neck, she opened the door and peered into the empty hall. She tiptoed along the runner, the dog beside her, and slipped down the main staircase to the front door. She unlatched it and shoved Muffin out onto the front steps of the London townhouse then closed the