Amadeus Yancey looked at the girl’s faint dark circles under her eyelids and his voice unconsciously softened, "Nathalie, do you know where the hairdryer is?"
Nathalie Quinlan had been up all night and was truly tired, especially with him dabbing at her hair in fits and starts, which made her even more sleepy.
Hearing this, she mustered up so energy and pointed in the direction of the bathroom, "Over there."
Afraid he wouldn’t find it, she added lazily, "In the bathroom drawer."
Amadeus Yancey quickly found the hairdryer in the bathroom drawer, plugged it in, and chose a warm setting on the first level. He stood behind her again, patiently blow-drying her hair.
Nathalie Quinlan was already drowsy, and with the warm air blowing on her hair, she wanted to sleep even more.
To avoid actually falling asleep, she forced herself to stay alert and thought to ask, "By the way, Amadeus, what clothes should I wear for lunch?"
Her calling him Amadeus had beco increasingly natural, lacking the respect shown by Alfred Garland and the others. Every ti she said his na, there was a hint of interest, like there was a tiny hook hidden in her tone, enchantingly unaware.
Amadeus Yancey’s breathing paused montarily before returning to normal. He pushed aside the black hair that had fallen to her brow bone and, thodically changing the angle of the hairdryer, said calmly, "Up to you."
Nathalie Quinlan managed to open her eyes a bit wider, looked at him with a wild and unruly gaze, and curved her mouth into a lazy smirk, "Up to ? That would just be the sa things I always wear."
"Sweater or hooded shirt, as long as you don’t think it’s too casual for to et the elders like that, I don’t mind."
Anyway, those were the only things she wore. Emilia Sullivan used to say her clothes were drab, not as lively and refreshing as Ghania Quinlan’s, and not presentable.
She didn’t know what was appropriate to wear when eting elders, so if it was up to her, that’s all she would wear.
Amadeus Yancey silently blow-dried the top of her head, twisted his hair in his hands with a doting air, "There are just a few of us for lunch, all people you know. My aunt Candice Yancey and Edric, plus another old gentleman. He’s not as serious as you think. You’ll see when you et him; he’s easy-going and doesn’t care about appearances. Just think of it as an ordinary family al."
...A family al with Mr. Yancey? If Nathalie Quinlan didn’t know his status, she would have thought Amadeus was making it all up.
That person was soone who could be on TV just by stepping out of the house.
Amadeus Yancey, however, wasn’t worried about these things at all. He spoke in a very ordinary tone, "Besides, I’ll be there. If anything cos up, I’ll be in front of you. You don’t have to worry about anything, just enjoy the al."
Nathalie Quinlan turned her head upon hearing this and looked at him thoughtfully for a mont, then pursed her lips without saying a word, seemingly in a good mood. She turned her head away, her eyelashes cast down, "You said it yourself, I’ll just wear sothing casual then."
Amadeus Yancey curled his lips upward, quietly resud blow-drying her hair, "I said it, wear whatever you like, whatever you find comfortable, that’s what you should wear."
*
At the Yancey Family Residence, Mr. Yancey was also grappling with this issue.
Today he had changed into a bright navy-blue suit. He ticulously smoothed out every wrinkle in his clothes, ironing them until they were neat and sharp on his body. He stood in front of the mirror for a long ti, checking his reflection and smoothing out the creases on his collar, then he turned back and asked the butler standing beside him.
"How does this suit look?"
The butler had seen him change clothes three tis already. His face, stoic beneath his expressionless façade, twitched slightly as he replied respectfully and succinctly, "Mr. Yancey, whatever you wear looks fitting."
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