It was surprising how quickly one adapted and adopted other people's quirks. Lady Penelope mused quietly to herself, whilst sitting sipping her Assam tea. Gordon, for example, was one of those people who had a myriad of 'quirks'. The majority of those she accepted, the rest .. well, they irritated her but her upbringing taught her to hide her displeasure quite well.
Besides, she supposed that her little 'quirks' would seem strange and irritating to him and his family. After all, they were worlds apart, despite being 'cousins'.
It was on one such occasion that she remembered so well. The first time she invited Gordon for afternoon tea. She insisted that he wear something better than that eye-blinding monstrosity he called a shirt. After all, they were dining at the Ritz, and everyone knows … you MUST dress up properly for that.
During their stay, he grumbled, muttered and twitched a lot, complaining about his 'monkey suit'.
"It's called a dress suit," she corrected him gently.
"I hate it, it makes me itch," he tugged at the collar, "and I feel i'm being strangled."
She rolled her eyes and leaned forward.
"Well, just loosen the top button slightly," she suggested.
He didn't need prompting for that one, and sighed greatly, leaning backwards in the tiny little chair with a rather loud groan. Penelope glanced around, noting the disapproving glances from the other guests. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she hoped that they'd hurry up with the sandwiches and scones. The tea was already brewing in the pot.
"Tea?" she offered, grabbing the teapot and hovering it over his china cup.
"No coffee?" he asked, rather loudly, embarrassing her further, "don't you guys ever serve a decent coffee around here?"
"Gordon," she hissed through gritted teeth, "not here, not now, mind your manners."
Just then, a split level tray of tiny sandwiches arrived … along with a plate of scones accompanied by two bowls. One with clotted cream, the other with strawberry jam.
"Hey look," Gordon said happily, glad of the distraction, "you have biscuits here too. We normally serve those with dinner though."
He grabbed one and crammed it into his mouth, chewing loudly. Penelope looked horrified.
"Gordon …. those are scones … for afternoon tea …. oh good grief."
"What?"
She wasn't going to win this one, and smiled wearily.
"Please, just this once," she pleaded, "indulge me …. please? This is London. We do things a little … differently here …. please?"
He looked across at her, her face slightly flushed and her eyes wide open with alarm. He knew he'd screwed up. Heck, even his brothers warned him about being on his best behaviour. There was no way he could measure up to any of his older brothers in manners. Scott could command a room without saying a word. John could hold an audience captive with his refined intellect and Virgil just made people at ease with his gentle mannerisms.
He wouldn't be surprised if they were all casting bets back home, on how badly he would screw this up.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled through half chewed scone, "I've screwed this up … haven't I?"
Penelope smiled and shook her head.
"No, not really," she replied, "you've just made things a little … interesting … that's all."
She handed him the napkin and he brushed away the crumbs.
"Better?"
"Much better, thank you. Now, shall we start again?"
He looked at her with surprise.
Oh wow. She wasn't prepared to storm out of the Ritz in a huff? After the way he behaved?
He shrugged.
"Sure, why not?"
Holding the teapot aloft, Lady Penelope nodded.
"Tea?"