After a Fashion (26 page)

“Why didn’t you let them know you were there from the beginning?” Millie asked.

“Well, ah . . . I was just waking up, you see, and—” Her eyes widened and she looked around. “Did either of you just hear someone scream?”

For a second, Harriet thought Lucetta was simply trying to distract Millie, but then a woman’s scream really did sound from the very shop they were standing in front of. Turning, she watched as the door sprang open and three ladies rushed out, the sound of additional screams following them out to the sidewalk.

“My gracious,” one of the ladies said as she hurried past. “Poor Mrs. Henderson.”

“Perhaps we should have stayed to help her,” another one of the ladies said.

“That’s Mr. Bambini in there,” the third lady exclaimed. “He owns most of this street, and my husband rents from him. I can’t get involved in that nasty business.”

The ladies’ retreating backs soon disappeared, but then the door opened again and the sound of a dog barking drifted out to the sidewalk. Buford evidently heard it, and before Harriet could catch him, he lunged forward, ripping the leash out of Millie’s hand. He raced through the open door, knocking over the lady who’d frozen right in front of that door the moment she caught sight of the huge dog barreling her way. Harriet rushed to her aid, and after getting the woman back on her feet, muttered a quick apology before taking off after Buford. She made it all of five feet into the store before she skidded to a halt when the tinkles of breaking glass sounded around her.

She stood stock-still for a moment when she realized Buford was loose in a china shop but found the incentive to move when additional shrieking began, more glass shattered, and Buford began to howl. Harriet hitched up her skirts and darted down the aisle, wincing when shards of something that had probably been expensive crunched under her feet. She hurried around a display of delicate-looking plates, caught a teacup tipping precariously close to the edge, set it back a safe distance, and continued forward, slowing to a stop and releasing a groan at the sight that met her eyes.

A lady wearing a white shirtwaist paired with a dark skirt, and who had puffy, red-rimmed eyes, was standing next to an intimidating-looking gentleman with brown hair, huge shoulders, and a curled mustache that took up a good deal of space on his face. They were staring off to the right, neither one of
them speaking, and when Harriet turned her attention to where they were staring, she understood why they seemed incapable of uttering any sounds.

Buford was under a small table, the only parts of him visible being his nose peeking out from one side and his tail from the other. A tiny wisp of a dog was positioned right in front of Buford’s nose. The little beast was growling deep in its throat, which seemed to be causing Buford to tremble, because everything on top of the dainty table he was under was shaking.

“Don’t just stand there,” the lady snapped. “Get your dog.”

“He’s not exactly mine,” Harriet muttered before she stepped forward, crouched down, and then blinked when the tiny pooch switched its attention to her and began making cute little doggy noises. “How adorable are you?” she asked before she looked under the table and met Buford’s terrified gaze. “It’s not going to hurt you, Buford. It’s friendly. You need to come out from under there right this minute.”

If anything, Buford’s shaking increased. Harriet scooped up the tiny dog, got to her feet, and held the dog out to the lady. “If you could just hold this for a moment, it might help me get Buford out from under the table.”

The lady took the dog, leaving Harriet to crouch in front of Buford again. “Oliver’s going to have to have a heart-to-heart with you, Buford, about this whole cowardly giant business. You’re a fierce beast—at least you look like one—and it’s past time you remember that.”

The gentleman with the large mustache stepped up next to her and leaned over. “Excuse me, but did you mention a gentleman by the name of Oliver?”

“I did.”

“You’re not speaking about Mr. Oliver Addleshaw, are you?”

“I am, and that large bit of trouble hiding under the table is his dog. I’m watching over him at the moment, although, given
that he’s just destroyed a good portion of this store, I’m not doing a very good job of watching.”

Buford let out a whine.

“You have no reason to whine,” Harriet admonished, looking Buford in the eye. “You’ve been a very bad boy, and Oliver’s not going to be happy with you once I hand him over a bill for all this damage.”

Buford seemed to realize he was in a smidgen of trouble, because he closed his eyes and refused to look at her. Unable to come up with a suitable way to get him out from under the table, Harriet straightened and looked to the woman with the red eyes. “I really must apologize for all of this, Mrs. or Miss . . . ?”

“I’m Mrs. Henderson, proprietress of this shop—at least I was until Mr. Bambini informed me I’m being evicted.” With that Mrs. Henderson dissolved into great, heaving sobs.

Before Harriet could offer a single word of comfort to the distraught lady, Mr. Bambini suddenly beamed at her.

“You must be Miss Peabody.”

“How in the world do you know my name?”

“Mr. Addleshaw told me all about you, and I offer you my congratulations.” He winked. “You are the reason many a young lady is going to be despondent once word officially gets out about the engagement. But enough about that—what do you think of this wonderful space? I should have realized you’d want to look it over once Mr. Addleshaw told you about it, but he neglected to tell me you were planning on stopping by today.” Mr. Bambini sent a pointed look toward Mrs. Henderson. “If I’d have known, I would have made certain there was nothing of a distressing nature to greet you.”

Harriet barely had time to duck as a piece of china, hurled by none other than Mrs. Henderson, sailed her way. She felt it graze the top of her head, heard a resounding crash and then dropped to the ground and rolled to the right when Mrs. Henderson
grabbed a beautiful crystal vase and chucked that in her direction. Shards of glass stung her cheek and she knew she was bleeding, but the ramifications of what Mr. Bambini had stated finally settled in, and she didn’t have the heart to fight back.

“Have you lost your mind?” Mr. Bambini yelled as he grabbed a plate from Mrs. Henderson and took hold of both her arms, effectively restraining her even as the tiny dog the lady had dropped to the ground began to scamper around their feet. “That is Miss Peabody you’re assaulting, fiancée of Mr. Oliver Addleshaw.”

Mrs. Henderson began to struggle against the arms that bound her, causing Harriet’s heart to ache as she pushed herself up from the floor. She wiped her hands on her gown, winced when a shard of glass sliced her, plucked it out of her palm, and drew in a steadying breath. She felt something dribble down her face but ignored it as she stepped closer to Mrs. Henderson and Mr. Bambini. “I’m afraid there’s been a grave misunderstanding.”

Mrs. Henderson stilled as Mr. Bambini sent her a frown. “A misunderstanding? I assure you, there has not. Mr. Addleshaw sought out my services yesterday, telling me of his desire to find his fiancée a most desirable location, and this is the location he decided he wanted to obtain.” Mr. Bambini’s frown turned to a smile. “I must say, he certainly seems to adore indulging you, my dear. Why, for a gentleman of society to actually encourage his future wife to dabble in . . . trade . . . Well, it’s not something I’ve ever seen before.”

For a second, something warm traveled through her veins, but then reality pushed the feeling away as temper replaced it. “While my fiancé certainly does seem to enjoy indulging me, tell me, Mr. Bambini, was Mr. Addleshaw aware of the fact this particular space was occupied by Mrs. Henderson?”

“He bought a vase from me,” Mrs. Henderson said. “I was thrilled, thinking he would tell others of his social set about my place, but now . . . I think he only did so to ease his conscience
because he knew in order to give you this shop, I’d have to go.” She dissolved once again into a fit of weeping.

Every pleasant thought and every unlikely dream Harriet had begun to dream died a rapid death. Disappointment, mixed with a healthy dollop of temper, settled over her, and she found she had to take in quite a few deep breaths before she was even able to speak. She looked up and found Lucetta standing a few feet away from her, Millie hovering right behind her. “It seems to me, ladies, that Abigail and Archibald’s plotting is all for naught.” She drew in another breath. “Would you be so kind, Lucetta, to fetch Buford? I’m sure he’ll come out from under the table for you.”

“Of course I’ll fetch him.” Lucetta moved forward, but paused midstep when Mr. Bambini moved to block her progress.

“Good heavens, you’re Miss Lucetta Plum—in disguise, of course, but I’d recognize your voice anywhere.”

“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t draw attention to me, sir, especially since I am, as you pointed out, in disguise, and there is a reason for that.”

Mr. Bambini tilted his head. “But . . . what are you doing here, and from the looks of things, with Miss Peabody?”

“She’s my friend,” Harriet said, her temper going from simmering to boiling when Mr. Bambini’s eyes widened.

“I’m her maid,” Millie added when he turned his attention to her.

“Maids don’t normally speak unless spoken to,” he pointed out.

Millie grinned. “That’s helpful to know.” With that, she turned on her heel and hustled as fast as she could over the broken glass and out of the shop.

“This is all very unusual,” Mr. Bambini muttered.

“And it’s about to get more unusual,” Harriet muttered right back. She watched as Lucetta coaxed Buford out from under
the table and then winced when the tiny little dog charged from behind Mrs. Henderson and directly at him, causing Buford to stick his nose into the folds of Lucetta’s skirt and shake uncontrollably. Harriet stepped forward and scooped the tiny scrap of fearsomeness off the floor, nodded to Lucetta, who then began to pull Buford away, taking him down an aisle that wasn’t littered with glass. There was another sound of something breaking, but Harriet ignored it as she turned her attention back to Mrs. Henderson.

“I cannot apologize enough, Mrs. Henderson, for the distress you’ve been made to suffer over something I had a part in. Allow me to make it up to you.”

Mrs. Henderson frowned, reached out and took the dog from Harriet, and then reached with her free hand to a table, snagged a lacey doily that was resting on it, and thrust it into Harriet’s hand. “Your face is bleeding.”

Harriet dabbed at her face, grimaced when she saw the blood staining the lace, then lowered her hand and turned to Mr. Bambini. “You will not be evicting Mrs. Henderson.”

“Mr. Addleshaw has already paid the rent on this space for the next year, and Mrs. Henderson is behind on her rent by an entire week.”

“I told you I’d have the money by the end of the day,” Mrs. Henderson said. “It’s just that with Mr. Henderson unable to find work and our two children being so sick lately, well, I haven’t been able to keep everything straight.”

Harriet closed her eyes and fought to suppress the rage that had begun to course through her veins.

What type of man was Oliver?

Could he truly believe there was nothing wrong with casting out a hardworking woman from her business—the Henderson family’s only source of income from the sound of it—because he’d wanted to present her with this prime location?

Was he really so ruthless?

The answer immediately flung to mind. Yes, he was, and here she’d been thinking all sorts of ridiculous thoughts, the most ridiculous being that he was actually a kind man underneath all of that arrogance, and that she was developing a small amount of affection for him.

Dabbing at her face again, she squared her shoulders. “Mrs. Henderson, as I just said, there will be no evicting of you done today or for the next year for that matter. You’ll be happy to learn that I’ve decided I don’t care for this spot in the least. It’s much too fancy for what I have in mind. But . . . since my
darling
Mr. Addleshaw, inadvertently, I’m sure, caused you a considerable amount of distress and pain, the money he gave to Mr. Bambini will be used for your rent this year. I’ll also need you to prepare a bill that I’ll give to my fiancé for all the damage his dog did in your shop.” She forced a smile. “You have my word he’ll pay it promptly.”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow you to make such a completely ludicrous offer,” Mr. Bambini said, going from an indulgent-looking gentleman to an intimidating one in a split second.

“You can’t
allow
me?”

“This is business, Miss Peabody, and business is done between men. I’m sure that you’re a lady possessed of deep emotional feelings, which are currently getting in the way of what, for me, is a lucrative business alliance. I won’t have you coming between me and Mr. Addleshaw, so you’ll need to simply go along with this deal he and I brokered and be happy about it.”

“I don’t take well to gentlemen trying to order me around, Mr. Bambini.”

“The deal’s done.”

“Yes, it is, and you won’t be losing a dime since I just promised Mrs. Henderson the use of that lovely money Oliver gave you toward rent.” She lifted her chin. “Now, if you’ll excuse
me, I need to go find my darling fiancé and have a little chat with him.”

She sent Mrs. Henderson what she hoped was a reassuring smile, sent Mr. Bambini a glare, picked up her skirts, and tried to sail dramatically from the shop, her sailing hampered by the pesky fact she had to dodge numerous broken items that littered the floor. She finally made it to the door, pushed it open, and stepped onto the sidewalk, squinting as the sun hit her eyes. Shielding them with her hand, she felt her temper burn even hotter as she caught sight of Lucetta and Millie. They were standing on the sidewalk in the company of a well-dressed lady—that lady being none other than Harriet’s aunt Jane.

Blowing out a breath, Harriet tilted her head and scanned the sky. “You’re obviously a little annoyed with me at the moment, Lord, given the numerous dastardly situations I keep finding myself in. But if I promise to walk the straight and narrow from this point forward, would you consider making Jane go away?”