After a Fashion (42 page)

“Do you have a seamstress in mind who might want them?” Lucetta asked.

“Well, no, but . . .” Harriet stopped speaking and tilted her head when she heard the sound of footsteps climbing up the outside stairs. “Are we expecting anyone?”

Millie frowned. “Not that I can think of. Your parents and Victoria are visiting with Abigail, and we know it’s not your aunt, since she’s in jail.” Millie got to her feet and peered out the window right as the sound of footsteps stopped. She pressed her face against the glass. “I think your prince charming might have just shown up.”

“What?”

Millie turned from the window and nodded toward the door. “Go see.”

Unable to help herself, Harriet headed for the door. She walked out on the landing, her heart beating a rapid tattoo when she saw what was waiting for her . . . two flights down.

Oliver was clutching a huge bouquet of flowers, but petals were falling off at a rapid rate as he leaned over Buford, who seemed to be stuck once again on the second-floor landing.

“Did you forget he’s terrified of heights?” Harriet yelled as she peered over the railing.

Oliver looked up, his expression decidedly grumpy. “Of course I forgot, otherwise I would never have brought him with me, but he’s been missing you and your friends quite dreadfully, so . . .”

She leaned forward. “What are you doing here?”

A stiff breeze took that moment to blow around them, sending the flowers Oliver had just set down tumbling off the stairs and falling to the rubbish-strewn ground below. He straightened and ran a hand through hair that looked rather untidy even as he leaned over the railing, shook his head, turned, and sent her a charming, yet rueful smile. “I was hoping to present you with a bit of a romantic gesture, but that gesture seems to have gone horribly wrong since I’m now without any flowers.”

Her pulse began racing through her veins so fast she felt a little light-headed. “You wanted to give me a romantic gesture?”

To her surprise, Oliver ignored her question as he returned his attention to Buford. The pathetic-looking pooch was frozen to the spot and, from what Harriet could tell, was intending to stay that way for quite some time.

“You’re ruining the moment, Buford,” Oliver said before he reached down and tried to tug the dog up a step to no avail. He glanced back up at her. “I could use a little help here.”

Oliver’s surly tone of voice was not exactly the romantic tone she’d been expecting, but . . . it made her grin even as she hurried down to him. “What would you like me to do?”

“Help me get him up the steps, of course.” Oliver considered Buford for a moment. “You take his front, and I’ll lift his behind, but be careful of those bandages. He’s still a little tender from where that bullet grazed him.”

Bending over, Harriet put her arms gently around Buford. “Now, don’t worry, darling,” she cooed. “We’re going to be very careful with you, especially since you’re the very bravest dog in the whole world.”

“No, he’s not, at least not at the moment,” Oliver said with a grunt as he lifted Buford’s behind. “And he’s heavy.”

“Make sure you watch his head,” Lucetta called, her voice causing Buford to squirm.

“Yes, thank you for that, Lucetta,” Oliver called, “but could you stop speaking?”

“Really, Oliver, there’s no need to get testy,” Lucetta called back. “I’m only trying to help.”

“Stop talking. We’re going to drop him if he doesn’t stop wiggling.”

Harriet grinned again when she glanced up and saw Lucetta disappearing through the door. Securing her hold on Buford, she began climbing backward up the stairs. It took them a good few minutes to reach the door, probably because Buford kept making pitiful little sounds that caused them to stop every other step in order to soothe him. When they finally made it to the top, Harriet was short of breath, as was Oliver. She edged through the door, set Buford down right as Oliver did, and wiped a hand across her perspiring brow. “There, that wasn’t so bad.”

“It completely ruined the mood. I have no idea what I was thinking, bringing Buford along. It’s hardly the thing to have a mangy beast whimpering by one’s side when one is intending to spout something of a mushy nature.”

Pulse racing once again, Harriet could only stand there for a moment as she realized in all the commotion with Buford, she’d forgotten Oliver was here for a reason, and a reason that seemed to have something to do with . . . mushiness. A knot began to form in her stomach, but before she could actually think of anything to say, Millie stepped forward.

“You’ve got petals on you,” Millie exclaimed after she gave Buford a pat on the head and plucked what appeared to be a red rose petal off Oliver’s jacket. She handed it to him, and then
plucked a few more petals off before she frowned. “Why are you covered in flower parts?”

Oliver looked at the rose petal in his hand, stepped around Millie, and held it out to Harriet. “For you.”

Harriet took the petal, raised it to her nose, took a sniff, and smiled. “No one has ever given me a flower petal before.”

“I was planning on giving you the whole bunch, but . . . best laid plans and all that.” He took a deep breath and suddenly looked incredibly nervous. “May I have a glass of water? For some reason, my throat suddenly feels incredibly parched.”

Harriet nodded but before she could take so much as a single step toward the kitchen, Lucetta brushed past her.

“I’ll get it.” She grabbed Millie’s hand and began tugging her out of the room. “You can help.”

“But it doesn’t take two people to fetch a . . . ouch . . . Did you just pinch me? Because that felt remarkably like a pinch, and . . .” Millie’s voice faded away as Lucetta hauled her into the hallway and toward the kitchen, shutting the door firmly behind them.

An odd silence settled over the cluttered room, broken only by the occasional grunts Buford was making as he stretched out on the floor and proceeded to bury his head underneath his massive paws.

Oliver sent her a grin. “I get the strangest feeling Buford feels I’m about to make a mess of things again. I might have gotten off to a rocky start, but since Lucetta has so very kindly granted me the chance to speak with you privately, I believe I’ll do better from this point forward.”

“I can’t guarantee how long Lucetta will be able to keep Millie away.”

“Then I suppose I should get right to what I need to say.”

Heart racing faster than ever, Harriet turned and moved across the gown-strewn floor, dropping into the chair she’d recently abandoned. “Perhaps you should take a seat as well.”

Glancing around, Oliver laughed. “I’m not certain that’s possible, given that every spare inch of space seems to be taken up by gowns.”

Harriet got back to her feet, shoved a mound of garments off a nearby chair, and gestured to Oliver. “That’ll have to do, but I apologize for the mess. We’ve been trying to figure out what to do with all the gowns I’ve collected over the years, but so far, we haven’t come up with a viable plan.” She shook her head. “Lucetta suggested I store them at Abigail’s for now, but that won’t really solve the problem especially since I have no plans to return to the city.”

“Speaking of returning to the city, that’s actually why I’m here.” Oliver scooted closer to her. “I’ve been doing some thinking, some soul-searching, if you will . . . and . . .”

Mouth immediately running dry, Harriet jumped to her feet. “I think I need some water too.” She leapt over Buford, who didn’t so much as twitch, made it to the kitchen door in a flash, opened it, and winced when the door connected with Lucetta’s head. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing? Eavesdropping, of course.” Lucetta straightened and rubbed her head. “So, what did he say? Because that was awfully fast.”

“He hasn’t said much of anything yet, except for admitting he wants to speak to me about returning to the city.”

Lucetta pointed a dainty finger at the door that had just walloped her in the head. “You need to get yourself right back out there and hear the man out. What were you thinking not allowing him a chance to finish what he had to say?”

“I need a glass of water.”

“No, you don’t. You need to hear what he has to say. Really, Harriet, you’re not making this easy on the poor man, and he even tried to bring you flowers.”

Harriet bit her lip. “That was somewhat romantic, wasn’t it?”

Millie sighed. “It was completely romantic, especially when he handed you that single petal. Why, my heart just about stopped beating.”

“Harriet, what are you doing in there?”

“Oh dear, he’s getting grouchy,” Lucetta said before she snatched up a pitcher filled with water, sloshed some into two cups and handed them to Harriet. “Off you go, and don’t be nervous. This is a good thing, and I’m sure whatever Oliver has to say is exactly what you need to hear.”

“I think the two of you should come with me for extra support.”

Lucetta rolled her eyes. “We’ll support you from behind the door. Now, go.”

Harriet made her way out of the kitchen—but only because Millie pushed her through the door—and moved down the small hallway and into the receiving room, water sloshing over her dress when her hands started shaking. She handed one of the glasses to Oliver and retook her seat, taking a huge gulp of water before she finally raised her head and found herself pinned under his intense gaze.

“I’m sorry I lost the flowers,” he began.

He looked so earnest that she couldn’t stop her heart from giving a resounding lurch. “It was nice of you to even think to bring them to me, and I do have a lone petal left.”

Setting his glass aside, Oliver moved closer to her. “I have some things I need to say.”

Her hands immediately turned a little clammy, which made holding the glass somewhat difficult. She leaned over and placed it on the floor, smiling when Buford ambled over and began slurping from it. She gave him a quick pat, before lifting her gaze when Oliver cleared his throat in a slightly demanding way.

“May I continue?”

Harriet lifted her chin. “Not if you’re going to keep speaking to me in that tone of voice.”

To her surprise, Oliver laughed and sent her a sheepish grin. “I’m nervous.”

Before she could think of anything to say that might calm his nerves, Oliver said, “I know we haven’t been acquainted long, and I never expected when we entered into our agreement that we’d be involved in so much intrigue, but . . . I don’t want to lose you.”

“I have to go with my family, Oliver,” she said slowly.

He beamed back at her. “I know. Which is why I’ve devised a plan.”

“Your last plan almost got poor Buford killed and was on the verge of setting society against you.”

“This is a better plan.”

A small trace of disgruntlement settled over her. Where were the words of love and tender feelings? Oliver sounded somewhat businesslike and not romantic in the least. She leaned back against the chair. “I’m listening.”

Oliver sent her one of his all-too-charming smiles. “Wonderful, but this might take a few minutes to explain, so I’m going to ask that you don’t interrupt.”

Her teeth clinked together, and it took everything she had to send him another nod and casually fold her hands in her lap.

Instead of continuing on, though, Oliver tilted his head and simply looked at her, amusement spilling from his eyes. She couldn’t say she actually appreciated that amusement, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of speaking after he’d somewhat rudely demanded she not interrupt.

Getting to his feet, Oliver began pacing back and forth, his pacing hampered by all the gowns strewn on the floor. He finally stopped and simply gazed at her, until he let out what almost
sounded like a grunt. “I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll just get it over with—I’m in love with you.”

Harriet suddenly couldn’t breathe. “What did you say?”

“How could you not have heard him, Harriet,” Lucetta called. “The man’s standing right next to you and we caught what he said all the way from the kitchen. If you missed it, he was proclaiming himself in love with you, and far be it from me to give you some advice, but you probably should say something of a romantic nature back to him.”

Harriet swallowed a laugh as she watched Oliver’s eyes narrow right before he strode out of the room and toward the kitchen. The next second, she heard the kitchen door open.

“You might as well join us.”

“We wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Now.”

A moment later, Lucetta and Millie marched into the room, followed closely by Oliver, who pointed to the chaise that was still covered in gowns. Both ladies jumped on top of the pile, and then Millie let out a snort. “I don’t know about the two of you, but I had no idea Oliver could be so diametrical.”

Silence was swift, and then Lucetta grinned. “And I have no idea, Millie, what word you should have just used, but I’m going to hazard a guess and say you might have wanted to choose
dictatorial
, but again, I’m not actually certain about that.”

Millie opened her mouth but then snapped it shut when Oliver cleared his throat rather menacingly. “May I continue?”

Giving a dainty flick of her wrist, Lucetta nodded. “By all means, we’re waiting with bated breath to hear what you’ll say next.”

Oliver’s lips curled ever so slightly before he sent Lucetta a narrowing of his eyes. “Now then, since our little distractions—as in those two,” he said with a telling look to Lucetta and Millie, “have been rounded up, I have a few more things
I’d like to say.” He caught Harriet’s gaze. “Because I’ve learned you’re a somewhat suspicious lady, I need to be upfront with you and explain that I’m not in love with you because you’ve turned all respectable by being the daughter of a duke, which I know you’ll think about sometime soon or maybe you’ve already considered, but . . . that isn’t the case at all. I actually wish you weren’t the long-lost daughter of a duke, because then we could just stay here in New York and settle down.” He drew in a breath. “However, since that is the case, and I completely understand you need to be around your family, at least for the foreseeable future, I’ve decided to take a less active role in my business ventures and join you in England.”