Read Online The Earl of Brass (The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Book 1) by Kara Jorgensen - Free Book Online Page A

paternal favor he had to begin with while Dylan remained dutifully obedient. He tried very hard not to resent his younger brother, but when he began to receive criticism from both men, he decided being thousands of miles away and happy was far better than being home and miserable. In his room, which had been converted into a guest room after his move to Greenwich, was Patrick already neatly folding and hanging his clothing.
    “Tails tonight, Lord Sorrell?” Patrick asked without taking his eyes off his task.
    “I guess my family will expect us all to dress for dinner. I hope that jacket still fits, I haven’t wore it in months.”
    “Will you be wearing your arm tonight, sir?”
    He sighed softly. “I wasn’t planning to until tomorrow’s soiree, but my mother requested that I wear it. It’s such a bother. I’m always afraid of knocking things off the table if it should swing wildly.”
    “Sir, maybe you could think of it as practicing for the party.”
    “Quite right. Well, let’s get this over with, Pat.”
     
    ***
     
    By the time dinner was ready, Patrick had transformed Eilian into a proper English dinner guest, at least visually. The moment he entered the dining room, all eyes fell upon him as he apologized for his tardiness and scooted into his seat, far from the dark-haired patriarch at the head of the table. Staring at him from across the centerpiece were Dylan and his young wife, Constance. To Eilian, the couple could have been twins separated at birth. Both had fair complexions, petite frames, and a nature fixated on the proper way of doing things. The pair had been married for over a year and a half. As the youngest daughter of five belonging to a well-to-do baron, Constance Sorrell had been cared for by the most pretentious governesses, educated at the finest finishing school, danced at the most exclusive balls, and still couldn’t carry a conversation of substance, but lucky for her, conversations of substance were never meant to be spoken at the dinner table.
    Constance and his mother prattled on about the finery needed for the next day’s events as the food was efficiently doled out by the servants. Eilian raised his gaze to admire the vase of fruit and flowers at the center of the table, but when he met his father’s dark eyes, both men stared down at their plates. When the entrees came and it was time for them to portion out their own food, Millicent Sorrell’s eyes locked onto her eldest son.
    “Dear, what are we going to do with you during dinner tomorrow?” she questioned with a sigh and a shake of her head as he struggled to stab a piece of meat with any semblance of grace.
    “What do you mean?”
    Dylan piped up, “She means that you cannot eat like those savages you are always working with.”
    She flashed her youngest son a warning glare before continuing delicately, “What I mean is, we need to find a way to work around your condition to keep the guests from feeling uncomfortable. We can’t serve the party à la russe, there are not enough people, and we can’t have the servants portion out food like a hotel. The guests will think we don’t have enough food for them to have seconds, and we don’t want that. Service à la française is simply the only choice. Maybe Sinclair can make you a plate and cut your meat ahead of time.”
    Despite the nagging feeling that he should have turned down this invitation, he replied as gently and as confidently as possible, “Mother, I can manage for myself. I can serve myself, but for the sake of you and your guests’ sensibilities, I will allow one of the servants to take my plate and cut my meat after everything has been offered. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your company.”
    Before his mother could acquiesce, his father’s thundering voice rolled down the table, “If you hadn’t been off gallivanting all over the empire, you wouldn’t need someone to cut your food for you.”
    “Father, it could have happened to