Percy stood patiently in front the mirror while his valet once again
inspected him head to toe. Finding opportunities for improvement, Pergot
smoothed a few unnoticeable creases on the coat, then added a couple of
well-pronounced ones to the arrangement of the cravat. But when he
proceeded to rearrange the fob of Percy’s pocket watch to make it hang
just so, Percy drew the line.
“That will do, Pergot,” he said, hoping he did not hurt the old valet’s
feelings. Pergot had been dressing his father before him. “You will
embarrass me if I take longer than my wife.”
“Sir George always took as long as Lady Albinia,” Pergot replied,
examining his creation with a critical eye, “and he turned heads wherever
they went.”
“I’m dining only with her ladyship and Mrs. Baillie.”
Pergot seemed
