Rebecca slid from role to role, sometimes playing the downstairs maid, sometimes the hostess, sometimes a lord, sometimes a lady, first a person more important than him, then someone less important.

“You’re a good actor,” Han said. “You’re as good as any of the players I’ve seen at the Palisade.” That was an open-air theater in Southbridge, where you could get standing room for a fivepenny piece. Or sneak in for free.

“Well,” Rebecca said, “that’s one thing bluebloods are good at—acting.”

Finally they moved on to table manners. There was a lot on getting up and sitting down, how big a portion to take, how much to leave behind, what foods to eat in what order, what utensils to use, where to put your napkin, and about blotting—not wiping—your face. The whole time, you were supposed to make conversation. And every time Han slipped up and said “an’t” or “got to,” Rebecca stuck her hand out.

By the end of it, Han was considerably poorer and his head was spinning.

“Do you ever just freeze up because you can’t think of what you’re supposed to do?” he asked. “Do you ever get so hungry and frustrated you just grab with your hands? Or get in a spot where you can’t think of another blessed thing to say that you’re allowed to say?”

“Well,” Rebecca said gravely, “some ladies resort to fainting. Men are on their own.”

Han laughed. “I thought it was tough on the streets,” he said. “I had no idea.”

Outside, the bells bonged ten times. Two hours had flown by.

“We’ll meet Thursday, then, and I’ll expect you to be on time,” Rebecca said. “Read chapters four to six. On Thursday we’ll discuss rules of inheritance and classes of nobility, and I’ll quiz you on table manners.”

“Could I ask a question?” Han said, though he knew he should get on to Bayar Library and Crow.

“Well, we’re just about out of time…What is it?”

“What are the rules for walking out?” he asked, riffling the pages of his book. “Is there a chapter on that?”

“What do you mean?” Rebecca asked, even though Han suspected she understood.

“Walking out. You know, courtship. Marriage. Like that. There have to be rules on that. Who goes out with who. Who can marry who. Who you can kiss, and how often, and who starts.” He looked straight at her, and her cheeks pinked up.

“Of course there are rules,” she said. “There are always rules.” She rose abruptly and curtsied deep, meaning she wasn’t about to tell him what they were.

He rose too, and got off a fair bow. “Thank you, Rebecca, for taking the time to tutor me,” he said. “I’ve learned a lot already.”