Manners Maketh Man

A 1-post collection

Challenge #01215-C120: Silver Spoon, Muck Manners

Just a moment. I have a multitude of extravagant ways of saying "no" to this, and I need to decide on one. -- RecklessPrudence

It had been the third time that this particularly unpleasant example had decided to interrupt an otherwise pleasant conversation. "No" was not in his vocabulary. Neither was "No, thank you." Both of those simple statements had been ignored.

So Lutetia said, "Just a moment. I have a multitude of extravagant ways of saying "no" to this, and I need to decide on one."

He boggled at her like she was a new species of leech that had been devouring his blue blood against his will. "I do beg your pardon, madame, I was attempting to compliment your deportment."

Lutetia reviewed their conversations in her head. He had so far compared her to a thoroughbred, and indicated that he wished to test her stamina by riding all night. The next, he had indicated that her dress would look much better when laid on his bedroom carpeting. Neither of these simplistic observations had waited for her attention. And he had completely ignored poor Emmaline. Currently hiding behind her fan.

Birthright may have made him a Lord, but his manners currently transformed him into an oik.

"Really?" said Lutetia. "I was not given that impression at all. Seeing as you first neglected to introduce yourself, excuse your already numerous interruptions, or say your piece in a civil manner. It was therefore easier to assume you were a more boorish member of the common public and therefore beneath my notice."

Emmaline was now using her fan to block his view of her face, which was gurning busily at Lutetia.

"And yet I perceive you smiling for me," said the oik.

"I do smile, sir, but I do not smile for you. My smiles are for my dear friend, with whom I would much rather prefer to converse. Her deportment is much finer, her overall appearance more pleasant, and so, ├žur, are her manners."

"I was not aware I was at a dog show," he said. "You are very clearly a fine bitch of pedigree."

"Indeed," she singsonged. "Clearly, even my fleas have better breeding than you do."

He finally dismissed himself. Red-faced and looking like a smacked bottom.

Emmaline finally emerged from the cover of her fan. "Do you have any idea who you just dismissed, darling?"

"Sweetheart... if he acts like a gibbon, I shall name him the same. Besides, if he was gentlemanly enough to enquire, he'd soon find out we're married."

"He takes residence in Buckingham, darling."

"So does their sweep."

(Muse food remaining: 41. Submit a Prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories! Or comment below!)