“Hush, Mia.” Aunt Sylvia’s voice was a bit stern, but low. If it hadn’t been for her twinkling eyes, Mia would’ve taken her to be upset with her.
“Lavishly?” Mia said sheepishly.
“No, my dear. You’re simply announcing to your luncheon guest that you are not accustomed to lavish living, which makes you sound common in all present company and is not the desired goal. Or that you are concerned about your weight, or that you are bloated. No one should know if this is actually the case as it’s not considered polite table conversation for a meal. It’s better to talk about the weather or some other interesting topic. Understand?” Sylvia explained. “This is all healthy food. You won’t gain a pound from it.”
She acknowledged her aunt’s explanation with a nod. She had so much to learn, and in the weeks since she’d been in New York, her aunt rarely reprimanded her. She took most things in stride with her occasional wincing and patient explanations. Then Mia looked at Clayton. “If you’re to be my escort, you should know up front I’m not one to put on airs, and have a distinct way of getting myself into trouble even when I say very little. If you choose to decline, I wouldn’t blame you in the least. I know absolutely nothing about being a debutante, and even less about proper table discussion.”
“Which is exactly what I like about you, Miss Morgan. If it’s any consolation, I have to work out at least every other day or my suits won’t fit, and mother rarely addresses me if we have dinner together, or even with just the family. She knows I’ll crack jokes, or say something inappropriate,” he admitted, winking at Mia as he lifted his cup of espresso to taste it.
“Now you see why I wanted you to become a debutante. You meet fine gentlemen who are agreeable, like Clayton. Not only does he have style, he has grace.” Sylvia tasted one of the chocolates as Clayton chuckled. “These are delicious. They practically melt in your mouth.”
“I believe that is one benefit of being a debutante, meeting Clay again.” Mia smiled at him.
“Grace is a high compliment. I’m known for being ruthless, but I’m learning grace. Style, completely up for debate,” Clay joked.
Mia and Sylvia chuckled. Clay was fun to be around. He observed Mia closely as she stared at the espresso while holding her arms crossed in front of her very full tummy. There wasn’t much room left, and she doubted she’d be able to do more than a sip or two. Perhaps one chocolate.
“The other benefit of being a debutante or an escort is how many calories we’re going to burn practicing our ballroom dancing moves,” he pointed out.
Mia laughed nervously. If only he knew what a terrible ballroom dancer she was. “Did you bring your steel-toed boots?” She popped a chocolate into her mouth as Clay shook his head no, chuckling.
“I apologize in advance for my niece lacking ballroom skills,” Sylvia said in a low voice to him. “But, I’ll have you know, she does this amazing ballet routine every morning. No one has used the exercise room at my brownstone, and the bars and mirrors I had installed, more faithfully than my niece.”
“No need to whisper. I’m sure the event director will find out soon enough that I haven’t any ballroom skills at all,” Mia inserted.
“Did you take ballet lessons?” Clay asked Mia.
“When I was a little girl, but haven’t taken any in years. Now I just do it to stay in shape,” Mia explained. “And because I enjoy it.”
He nodded. “Two of the best reasons. So when would you like to practice our technique for the ballroom?”
“Would later this afternoon be too soon?” Mia was thinking she’d need all the help and practice she could get.
“I’ll meet you in the ballroom at three o’clock,” he agreed. “In time to have an hour of practice before the first formal group practice today at four.”
She smiled, relief flooding through her. The first thing she was going to do was thank him for not telling Sylvia about the spitting incident when they first met.
“Sounds splendid. While you two are dancing, I can have some time to rest. Did you happen to meet those girls from Scotland?” Sylvia asked.
“No, but I met the girls from Lichtenstein and Monaco,” Mia replied, nodding in their direction.
“I met the British girl,” Clay added. “There are only about twenty debutantes here,” Mia remarked. “For some reason, I expected more.”
“They keep it limited, and each girl has to have excellent credentials. They must be recommended, not to mention pass the screening interview,” Sylvia reminded them. “Make no mistake about it, you two belong here. You both have an excellent pedigree and many accomplishments to be sure.”
Mia looked at Clay. “I’m only here because my aunt wants me to be, so you don’t have to concern yourself with me when this is all over. I’m not in the husband market like these other girls.”
“That makes two of us. I’m only here because my mother thinks I’ll find a suitable bride. She sees this as my final chance before becoming an eternal bachelor. Next year, I’m too old to be here except as a guest.” Clay drank more of his espresso.
“Then we’re safe and it should be a fun week, except for your toes and my nerves, for which I apologize in advance. And on that note, I’ll see you in the ballroom at three o’clock. I intend to rest until then,” Mia confessed as she began to stand. Before she could push her chair out all the way however, Clay was at her side to pull it out for her. “Thank you. Thank you very much. They don’t make many gentlemen like you anymore.”
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “It’s the way I was brought up, but some women don’t like it.”
“I do,” Mia insisted as he made his way around the table to help her aunt out of her chair. “I find it absolutely refreshing.”
“Good to know,” he said. “See you at three.”
They watched him disappear, and as they waited in the hotel foyer for the elevator to carry them upstairs to their suite, her aunt said, “Isn’t he the bomb diggity? And I think it was brilliant that you set him at ease by stating you aren’t looking for a husband. A man likes to do the chasing.”
Mia laughed, nodding. “He is very handsome. He really is, but so far, we’re only friends, Aunt Sylvia, and I barely know him.”
“Of course, this is the second time you’ve seen him. Just be on the lookout for Nora,” Sylvia whispered as the elevator doors glided open.
“Who’s Nora?” Mia asked as they stepped inside the empty elevator.
“Nora Chandler is one of the other girls representing New York, and I happen to be in the know that her parents want her to marry him,” Sylvia explained. “They own the Chandler retail department stores, and it’s their dream to unite the Chandlers with Bexley’s Park & Madison.”
“Oh, I met Nora.” Mia nodded, pressing the button for their suite on the tenth floor. She’d learned Aunt Sylvia didn’t want a penthouse suite since she didn’t enjoy extreme heights, but they’d been granted spacious, luxurious rooms with a view of Central Park. “She was the other blond girl wearing the silky blue expensive pantsuit with the long scarf and coat jacket.”