Proper Table Manners Novels & Stories

Eric said aloud in amusement. “Henry, pay no attention to your brothers, they are just being silly...” Henry dramatically cleared his throat. “You need to stop making excuses for them now Mother they are not teenagers...” Sir Allen noisily pushed his bowl of chocolate brownies to a corner, every person seated at the table turned to look at him. He wiped his mouth gingerly with a napkin, “You know how seriously I like to observe table manners. You all acted in blatant disregard of that...”, his voice was a rich but croaky baritone, strong enough to capture anyone’s attention, he turned to Henry. “Who is the girl?”

Second later, his shoe that was drawing circles on her ankles began to go way up to sweep her calves. Hand shaking, Maxine clasped at the tableware tightly. It was an etiquette to stop whatever they were doing underneath the table to show respect, not only for the other people present at the place but also for the food above the table. But without even realizing it, her thighs were shaking at Adam’s delicate touch. She loves it. Maxine admitted she misses his touch.

The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, broken only by the soft clink of cutlery against porcelain. Mary forced herself to swallow. “Can we talk?” she finally asked. “Manners, Miss Andison,” Alexander said calmly, not looking up. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lipton, but…” “It can wait, Miss Andison,” he interrupted coolly. “Or should I say Mrs. Lipton?” Her grip tightened around her fork. Her stomach twisted. “Table rules must be observed,” he continued. “No conversation while eating.” “Understood, Mr. Lipton,” she muttered, lowering her gaze.

The Pressure Across the Table The Japanese businessman, Ida, who had accompanied Henry to the banquet, chimed in with a cold smile. "In Japan, we place immense value on proper dining etiquette. If Miss Bishop cannot even display this basic baseline of sincerity, then there is truly no point in us sitting together at the same table."

Perhaps our lives are still not worth the price of the items in this palace. "This is where all the tableware is kept—plates, glasses, different types of champagne glasses, even coffee mugs," Gina said, pointing to a large cabinet. She told me what to do before, during, and after a meal of the Alpha King; it's either breakfast, lunch, or dinner. She said a lot about etiquette, including not leaving the dining room until the alpha king has finished eating. She said it was for security reasons because if I ever put poison on his plate, I'd be more easily caught.

He put the fork on the table, elegantly wiped his hands with a napkin, and then looked at me. "Okay, the driver will take you to school. You can go anywhere, as long as you're present when I need you." "Really?" My eyes sparkled. I was so happy that I lightly slapped my hands on the table, my whole body almost jumped up. Nolan frowned tightly, his deep and hoarse voice revealing his dissatisfaction, "During meals, don't make impolite noises. Sit up straight and strictly adhere to the table manners. I don't need to teach you this, right?"

Ray slapped himself and bowed. "I—I'm sorry for w—what I said. P—Please don't take it to heart…" The waitress lost composure and burst into tears. She would never dare to offend such a powerful figure. She regretted her actions terribly. Alexander ignored everyone and calmly looked at George. "Since you referred to me so respectfully, let me remind you: rules and manners maketh the man." Alexander continued, "The restaurant should have its rules, just like how people need to have manners. Do I still need to teach you what to do to those who don't follow rules?"

Forty wolves at the long table, the Nightfang delegation down one side, the Blackwood senior families down the other, with Victor and Cassandra at the head and Alexander two seats down looking like a man performing the most exhausting role of his life. Sophia sat beside Alexander in pale gold, radiant and composed and watchful in the way a hawk was watchful, which was to say without appearing to watch anything at all. I moved around the edges of all of it with a tray. Kitchen service at a formal dinner was its own specific discipline. You learned it fast or you caused problems, and the first rule was simple: do not exist. Refill the glasses before they were empty. Replace the plates before a

But, I still couldn’t help asking her. “Did we really need to do all this? Wouldn’t it be easier to just eat without worrying about which fork or knife to use? Meals would be more enjoyable without all these rules. Why do the utensils even need different shapes and sizes?” “I know, but even though it might seem complicated, it becomes second nature.” I doubted it would ever feel natural to me. This whole lifestyle just wasn’t my thing. “Oh, and I just want to add,” she went on. “When we’re around Lord Cunningham, speaking is mostly for direct questions. It’s fine to speak when the subject is open to everyone. And it’s considered rude to cough, scratch, or make unnecessary sounds while eating

I sneer at her “mind your business” She’s about to reply when dad clears his throat, calling for order at the table “Table manners” He says. Lest I forget, he’s strung on etiquette. Too many rules to follow when you’re around this man, he’s one of the reasons why I chose a career path that’ll make me scarce at home.