After a Fashion (21 page)

“Miss Plum, my goodness, have you been driving the carriage? I can see the two of us are going to have to have a long chat about what is appropriate and what is not.”

Miss Plum simply laughed and then the carriage shook just a bit as someone jumped to the ground. A second later, the door opened and Miss Plum stuck her head in. “You have a very fine set of horses, Mr. Addleshaw, although the one with the black star on his nose does tend to shy a little when other carriages approach.”

“When other carriages approach, or when you’re driving on the wrong side of the street?” he countered.

Miss Plum sent him a sniff and turned to Harriet. “I think our extended journey through the city did the trick.”

“Wonderful,” Harriet exclaimed, handing Miss Plum the rewrapped bustle before she began scooting for the door.

“What trick?” Oliver asked.

Miss Plum didn’t so much as blink. “Why, that poor Darren seems to be doing much better now that he was given an opportunity to enjoy all of that lovely fresh air.”

Before he could argue with that bit of nonsense, Miss Plum grabbed a bag filled with odds and ends and disappeared, leaving him to watch Harriet struggle out of the carriage.

“Aren’t you coming?” she asked when she finally managed to reach the ground.

“I don’t seem capable of moving just yet, given that Buford is still lying over me. Do you think you can get him out of the carriage?”

Harriet looked over her shoulder before she turned back to him. “I think we should leave Buford here, especially since Mrs. Hart seems to have a fondness for cats. It would be horrible if Buford decided to eat some of them.”

“Buford won’t eat the cats. He’s . . .” Oliver’s voice trailed off when Buford suddenly lifted his head and licked his lips. “On second thought, maybe I should take him home with me.”

“That might be for the best.”

Unfortunately, Buford seemed to have other ideas. He wiggled his way off Oliver’s lap and slipped out of his collar when Oliver grabbed it. Before Oliver could get a hold on him, the dog leapt out of the carriage and took off for the house. Less than a minute later, the sound of outraged cats split the air, followed quickly by the yells of an outraged Mrs. Hart.

12

A
h, Harriet, I thought I’d find you in here.” Millie breezed into Mrs. Hart’s formal dining room, a ratty old dictionary clutched in her hand. “How goes the cutlery lesson?”

Harriet gestured to the massive place setting spread in front of her, one she’d been spending countless hours with during the three days she’d been living under Abigail Hart’s roof. “It’s confusing, and every time the sun streams through the windows, I’m in danger of going blind from the reflections bouncing off the silver and crystal.” She grinned and held up a strange-looking spoon. “I’m making progress, though, since I’ve recently discovered, according to the notes Oliver’s grandfather made up for me, that this spoon is specifically used for pudding.”

“Archibald Addleshaw is such a dear gentleman for taking the time to assemble those notes for you, Harriet,” Abigail said, walking into the room with Buford and a slew of cats trailing after her. “Why, we’re fortunate indeed that he traveled straightaway to the city after he received my telegram,
and
that he’s decided to throw himself wholeheartedly into this daunting business of polishing up your manners.”

“I do have a few manners at my disposal, Mrs. Hart, so I’m not certain your claim of it being a
daunting business
is exactly accurate.”

Abigail waved Harriet’s protest aside before she smiled and nodded at Buford, who was now lounging in a spot of sun with the cats curled around him. “Isn’t he simply adorable?”

“You didn’t find Buford adorable when you thought he was about to eat your cats.”

Pulling out a chair upholstered in gold damask trimmed with black, Mrs. Hart took a seat. “All water under the bridge, my dear, and no one can blame me for thinking Buford was about to eat Fluffy, considering he had her in his mouth.”

“I certainly was amazed when he spit her out, but that might have been because he didn’t enjoy the taste of her,” Millie said before she plopped the dictionary on top of her head and began walking. She made it all the way across the room before the book tumbled to the ground. Picking it up, she set it back on her head and stood stock-still for a moment. “I’m definitely making headway with this whole posture business, although I’m a little confused about why I need to improve mine in the first place. It’s not like anyone is going to be watching me as I go about being your lady’s maid, Harriet.”

“I wasn’t aware you were
going
to pose as my maid.”

“That’s why I was looking for you, to discuss matters, but you don’t need to look so alarmed. I
have
been a maid before.” Millie edged forward a few inches and stopped when the dictionary began teetering. “Abigail thought it would be a wonderful way for me to earn a few dollars while I wait for the employment agency to contact me with another position. She’s footing the bill for my services.” With that, Millie began walking slowly across the room and straight out the door.

Harriet quirked a brow in Abigail’s direction after the last of Millie’s skirt disappeared.

Abigail barely batted an eye. “I assure you I have more than enough money at my disposal to pay Millie, and I also have no problem with any of you calling me Abigail.”

“You know addressing you by your given name isn’t what’s bothering me, nor is the state of your bank account.”

“I think you and I can both agree that what’s truly bothering you at the moment has nothing to do with Millie and everything to do with Oliver. You’re conflicted about him.”

Harriet opened her mouth to refute that nonsense but then snapped it shut when she realized that Abigail was exactly right. She was conflicted about Oliver. What bothered her most of all was that even though he’d yet to apologize about the whole Tawny and Ginger fiasco, she continuously got a little weak in the knees every time he stopped by to check on her.

It was ridiculous—that’s what it was, her traitorous body’s reaction to him—but she seemed to have no control over it. It certainly wasn’t helping matters much that Oliver had taken to being very solicitous toward Millie and Lucetta, something that warmed Harriet’s heart to no small end, even if it did appear Oliver’s liking for her friends took even him by surprise at times.

“Tell me, dear,” Abigail suddenly said. “What do you believe is the most pressing issue you have with Oliver?”

Since she could hardly tell Abigail her most pressing issue was that she found the man all too attractive and her knees kept wobbling whenever he showed up, Harriet took a minute to sort through all the things about Oliver that really annoyed her.

“He’s very high-handed,” she finally said. “Do you know that yesterday he had the audacity to ask me to practice adoring looks while peering into a mirror because he felt I was glaring at him too often?”

“You can hardly fault the man for that, Harriet, considering you have been glaring at him on a frequent basis. Why, you must
know that society will find it difficult to accept your alliance if you don’t gaze adoringly at him every now and again.”

“You’re taking his side?”

“Of course not,” Abigail said with a sniff. “My job is to see you kept safe, which also extends to your health.”

“My . . . health?”

“Indeed. You’ve been in a perpetual state of annoyance practically from the moment you stepped foot in my house. I must tell you, such a state is not conducive to good health, especially in regard to digestion. Stomach issues, my girl, are hardly in vogue at the moment.”

“I wasn’t aware health issues were ever in vogue.”

“Fainting has always been popular amongst the more dramatic set. Not that I recommend it, of course. Why, I shudder to think how many dinners have been disrupted when ladies have slumped to the ground at the slightest provocation.”

“Yes, well, fascinating fainting tidbits aside, perhaps it would be for the best if we’d return to the subject of Millie and . . .”

A clearing of a throat had Harriet stopping midsentence as Abigail’s butler, Mr. Kenton, stepped into the room. “Mr. Addleshaw has come to call, Mrs. Hart. May I tell him you’re receiving?”

For a second, Harriet’s heart began galloping in her chest, until she reminded herself that her heart had no business galloping, or even mildly picking up its beats, just because Oliver had come to call.

“Of course I’m receiving today, Mr. Kenton. Show Mr. Addleshaw right in.”

“Very good, Mrs. Hart.” Mr. Kenton bowed and exited the room.

“I must say, I’m delighted to be receiving guests again,” Abigail said right before footsteps sounded in the hallway.

Ignoring the fact her breath seemed to have gotten stuck in
her throat, Harriet craned her neck as she watched the door. Air came whooshing back to her, though, when Archibald, not Oliver, Addleshaw walked into the room.

That Oliver was his grandson, there could be no doubt. Both gentlemen possessed impressive height, and even though Archibald was somewhat advanced in years, his features were still strong—his hair, although silver, still thick, and his shoulders broad, without even the slightest droop to them.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Archibald said.

“Archibald, how lovely you’ve decided to pay us a call,” Abigail exclaimed. “I wasn’t expecting you until this evening.”

“Oliver’s left me to my own devices today, so I thought I’d come early and see if young Harriet could use my help with anything.”

He moved to Abigail’s side, kissed her knuckles, which had her turning pink, and smiled. “You’re looking absolutely charming today, Abigail. Have you done something different with your hair?”

Abigail patted the white locks in question. “I’ve hired a new maid, one who is incredibly talented with hot tongs and a handful of pins.”

Harriet sat forward. “Perhaps you could lend me your new maid for a few weeks and
you
could use Millie.”

“I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your friend’s company, dear.”

“Yes, well, I don’t particularly want to be deprived of my hair, and allowing Millie anywhere near hot tongs puts my health—something you recently claimed you were determined to keep safe—in immediate danger.”

Abigail shook her head at Archibald. “Young people are so dramatic these days. Don’t you agree?”

Archibald, evidently a true diplomat, spoke not a word of agreement to that assessment but moved to Harriet’s side, took
her hand, kissed it, and then smiled down at her. “Table lesson going well?”

Harriet returned his smile. “Your notes have proven invaluable, Mr. Addleshaw, but I’m still not certain how I’m going to do around real food.”

“Then you’ll be pleased to learn we’re going to sit down to a formal dinner tonight, with real food no less, and Abigail and I are going to do our very best to make you feel completely competent at the table.” He smiled. “We didn’t tell you before because I wasn’t certain I was going to be able to steal Oliver’s chef away, but since I’m pleased to announce I have been able to abscond with the chef, we’ll dine in fine form tonight.”

“Aren’t you worried Oliver might be a little upset that you’ve absconded with his chef?”

Archibald pulled out a chair and sat down next to her. “Since he stole this particular chef away from me a year ago, I don’t think he’ll protest too strenuously.”

“I also absconded with quite a few members of his staff,” Abigail added. “But since that was done because I was anxious to get my house set to rights, especially with having three delightful young ladies here for a visit, I’m sure he understood. Do make certain to tell him, Archibald, if you see him before me, that the employment agency will have me fully staffed by the end of the week, at which time I’ll send Oliver’s staff back to him.”

Archibald regarded Abigail for a long moment. “You and I have yet to discuss the reason behind your formerly reclusive behavior, my dear. I cannot adequately express the sorrow I feel over not being privy to the fact you’ve been spending years with only cats for company.”

“Regrets can cause a person to do odd things, Archibald,” Abigail said. “But I have no desire to speak further about me and my peculiar ways of late. I’ve made a promise to Reverend Gilmore to prepare Harriet for the task awaiting her, and we
don’t have a second to spare, considering we need to shove years of etiquette into a span of days. We also need to devise a credible story regarding her past, so . . .” She settled her attention on Harriet. “Tell us a little about your family.”

Harriet’s stomach immediately turned into one large knot. “There isn’t much to tell.”

“Nonsense, dear. We’ll start with your birth. Where were you born?”

“I was once told I was born in Boston, but since my aunt Jane is the one who told me that, I’m not certain it’s the truth.”

Archibald frowned and leaned closer to her. “Why would you think your aunt Jane lied to you?”

“She’s not what anyone would consider trustworthy, Mr. Addleshaw. Why, when I was about nine, she told me she was related to aristocrats, as in people living in England, and she did that while affecting a British accent. Granted, she was on her second bottle of wine when she told me that outlandish tale, but it just goes to prove she’s predisposed to lie.”