After a Fashion (9781441265135)

by Turano, Jen

  “You’ll have to do your very best to convince him he needs to come.”

  “Are you forgetting the little part about where he walked in on his daughter trying to maul me?”

  Abigail waved his comment aside. “He’s probably used to her antics. She seemed to be a rather high-strung young lady, which means she most likely gets into mischief on a regular basis.”

  “I’m not actually sure I want to spend another evening in her company. She knocked me to the floor and then jumped on top of me.”

  “I doubt she’ll try the same thing again.”

  “And that’s supposed to reassure me?”

  Abigail opened her mouth, but then closed it when two maids hurried into the room, both carrying feather dusters and rags that gave off a distinct smell of lemon.

  Oliver smiled at them and then frowned when they bobbed curtsies and disappeared the way they’d come. “Don’t those maids work for me?”

  “Of course they do. I’ve absconded with most of your staff in order to get ready for the ball, including Mr. Blodgett and Mrs. Rollins. I must warn you now, dear, your butler and housekeeper are entirely too capable, and I’m quite certain I’m going to try to lure them away from you.”

  “Mrs. Astor has already tried, at least in regard to Mr. Blodgett, but he, thankfully, is quite loyal to me.”

  “He’s fallen in love with our dear Lucetta, and if she agrees to stay on with me, that might change Mr. Blodgett’s mind.”

  “What do you mean, stay on with you?”

  “The ladies certainly can’t return to that hovel they called home, can they? Since the duke has declared his intentions to leave town earlier than expected, your business deal, if it’s still a possibility, will have to conclude within the next day or so, and then your alliance with Harriet will be over, unless . . .”

  “Unless what?”

  Abigail shrugged. “That’s up for you and Harriet to decide. But, I must warn you now, the reason I was concerned about your tardiness was because I’m afraid she’s devising some type of plan that will graciously allow your supposed engagement to her to be broken with relative ease. Evidently, in Harriet’s mind, that will leave you free to pursue Lady Victoria.”

  Oliver rose to his feet. “You really should have allowed me to see her last night.”

  Abigail rose as well. “How could I have possibly known that you would have no interest in Lady Victoria? From what Archibald told me, you’re incredibly focused on improving your fortune and your social status. Lady Victoria could do both for you with one tiny crook of her finger.” Abigail lifted her chin. “Her father, from what I’ve been told, is an incredibly wealthy man.”

  “I need to find Harriet,” Oliver said, seeing little use in responding to Abigail’s statement. Everything she’d said was indeed the truth, but . . . for some reason he found himself relatively unconcerned with his social status at the moment.

  “She’s up in the attic, sorting through my old clothes for some peculiar reason. But, don’t linger too long up there. I’m still short a few footmen and there is some large furniture that needs to be moved around in the third-floor ballroom.”

  “You want me to help move furniture?”

  “How else will I be able to fit in the orchestra?”

  He felt his lips twitch. “You do realize that your ball might not actually have a guest of honor, don’t you?”

  “We’ll worry about that when the time comes,” Abigail said before she reached up and patted his cheek. “Now, off you go, but remember . . . third floor . . . furniture.”

  “You’re incorrigible,” he returned before he sent her a grin and made his way for the door, pausing to ask a maid dusting the bannister where he could find the stairs leading up to the attic. She told him, and smiling his thanks, he took off up a narrow flight of steps, feeling perspiration dribble down his neck by the time he reached the attic. He walked into a spacious room filled to the brim with abandoned belongings, pleasure mixed with amusement flowing through him when he caught sight of Harriet.

  She was sitting on the floor in the middle of the attic, bouncing up and down, which was rather strange, but then she jumped to her feet, looked at a concoction made of metal she’d been sitting on and let out an ear-piercing shriek.

  “It worked, would you look at that . . . it sprang back into shape.”

  “Is that your bustle?” he asked, stepping farther into the room.

  “It is my bustle,” she exclaimed as she practically hopped to his side and grinned. “I made a coil and . . . it doesn’t stay collapsed now.”

  Her enthusiasm was contagious, and before he actually thought about what he was doing, he moved closer to her, pulled her into a tight hug, and then lifted her off her feet. For a second it seemed as if she hugged him back, but then she stiffened, he immediately set her down, and both of them turned to Lucetta, who was making a tsking sound under her breath.

  “It’s a good thing Abigail, being Harriet’s chaperone, didn’t see you doing that, Oliver.”

  “She really makes an abhorrent chaperone,” Millie said, speaking up as she walked around what appeared to be an old freestanding wardrobe with a gown in her hands. She stopped walking and let out a sigh when no one said anything. “Wrong word again?”

  Lucetta laughed. “Not at all, that was an excellent use of the word abhorrent, Millie. I do believe your hard work with your dictionary is finally paying off.”

  Looking completely delighted, Millie moved to an old dress form that was standing off to the side and threw the gown over it, stepping back a moment later as she eyed the dress. “I don’t know, it’s rather . . .”

  “Frumpy?” Oliver supplied before he walked over to stand beside Millie. “What’s that for anyway?”

  “Harriet’s trying to decide what to wear to Abigail’s ball,” Lucetta explained.

  “Isn’t that dress a little . . . dated, and what happened to the gowns from Arnold Constable & Company?”

  Lucetta and Millie exchanged rather significant looks before they abruptly walked out of the room.

  “What was that about?” he asked.

  “Maybe you should take a seat,” Harriet said, moving over to what turned out to be a slightly worn chaise. She dumped a pile of gowns to the floor and gestured for him to sit down next to her.

  Taking a seat, he waited while Harriet rearranged the folds of her skirt and then braced himself when she lifted her head and turned rather determined looking.

  “I’ve come up with a plan to end our engagement that will allow us to part amicably, but also allow you to pursue Lady Victoria before she leaves to return home.”

  Abigail had been right—Harriet had been plotting.

  “I don’t recall stating that I have an interest in Lady Victoria.”

  “Well, when could you have stated much of anything to me, given the fact I set a restaurant on fire and embarrassed you beyond belief?” She blew out a breath, surprising him when she took his hand in hers. “I cannot express to you enough how truly sorry I am for causing such a ruckus.”

  “There’s no need to apologize, Harriet. It could have happened to anyone.”

  “That’s what everyone keeps trying to tell me, but I know perfectly well that ladies of society rarely set the table linens to flames, nor do they make outlandish comments about turtle dishes that cause everyone to lose their appetite for it.”

  Oliver grinned. “I must admit that the mere thought of eating your Sam did put me off terrapin for good, I think.”

  Harriet patted his hand and then withdrew hers. “For that, I must apologize. Everyone seems to enjoy that particular luxury and now I’ve ruined it for you forever.”

  “I’m fairly certain I’ll survive.”

  “Yes, well, moving on to my idea.”

  “Must we?”

  Harriet frowned. “I know you’re probably concerned about my ability to plan, considering what happened last night, but I assure you, this plan I’ve come up with will not end
in disaster.” She leaned toward him. “What I believe we should do is this—I’m going to dress in a rather dowdy manner, which will draw even more attention to Lady Victoria’s beauty. Then, you and I are going to get in a slight disagreement regarding my . . . bustles or perhaps my dress designing. Then, I’ll dramatically release you from our engagement, saying something to the effect that you stifle my muse and I simply cannot move forward with a gentleman who doesn’t share my vision.”

  “Did you get Lucetta to help you with that?”

  “How did you know?”

  “It smacks of the theatrical.”

  “She suggested I throw myself at your feet and beg you to release me from our engagement, but I thought that might be a bit much.”

  “Just a bit.”

  Harriet arched a brow. “So . . . what do you think?”

  Oliver drew her hand back into his and pressed it. “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?” Harriet asked as she tried to pull her hand out of his, giving up a moment later when he refused to relinquish his hold.

  “I’m not interested in Lady Victoria.”

  “How could you not be interested in her? She’s lovely, wealthy, and won’t embarrass you.”

  “She embarrassed me quite a bit last night when she tried to kiss me.”

  Harriet’s eyes went wide. “She tried to kiss you?”

  Oliver felt a wave of satisfaction roll over him when he detected what he thought was a slight trace of disgruntlement in her tone. “And knocked me to the floor in the process where she immediately jumped on top of me.”

  “Well, she is young.”

  “She’s a spoiled brat, is what she is, and we’ll speak no further regarding any plan you might have for me to spend time in her company.”

  Harriet tapped a finger against her chin. “We can still move forward, though, with the argument part. Word has gotten out around town regarding our engagement, and since our time together is rapidly coming to an end, we might as well use Abigail’s ball to allow society to learn that we’ve decided we won’t suit. That will leave an opening for other young ladies to draw your attention.”

  “What if I’ve decided I’m not interested in other young ladies?”

  For a second, something almost wistful settled in her eyes, but then they hardened and her lips thinned. She pulled her hand from his right before she got to her feet and began to pace back and forth across the room. Stopping directly in front of him, she blew out a breath. “What are you thinking?”

  He reached out and pulled her down beside him, even as his pulse began to quicken. “We don’t have to stop spending time together.”

  The moment the words were out of his mouth, he knew they were exactly what he’d wanted to say.

  She intrigued him, fascinated him, and made him feel more alive than he’d ever felt in his life.

  “You’re talking complete nonsense,” Harriet said.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because you and I live in the real world—me more than you, I think—and . . . your world will never accept me. You have to realize that, Oliver, somewhere deep down inside. Look what happened last night with Miss Dixon. She was vile and nasty in her remarks to me, as if she somehow instinctively knew I didn’t belong in her company.”

  “We wouldn’t have to associate with Miss Dixon.”

  “Would you be so willing to sever ties with everyone, then, because if you continue spending time with me, that’s exactly what you would have to do.”

  “My grandmother was not from society, but she was eventually accepted.”

  “I highly doubt your grandmother was illegitimate or had an aunt who earns a living through nefarious means.” Harriet patted his hand. “You know that it wouldn’t work for you to even remain friends with me, because society would eventually come to the conclusion I’m your mistress, and that’s something I’m not willing to allow them to do.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting you become my mistress.”

  “I know, Oliver, but again, there’s no relationship that would work between us.” Harriet drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. “It’s best if we simply continue on with our original plan. I’ll be on your arm at the ball, if there’s still going to be one, but after that, we need to part ways and get on with the rest of our lives.”

  “What if that’s not what I want?”

  “I don’t believe you truly know what you want, Oliver, but I know what I want.” Harriet’s lips curved ever so slightly at the corners. “I want the fairy tale, complete with a prince on a white charger who’ll carry me away into the sunset.”

  “I’m not your idea of a prince on a white charger?” Oliver asked slowly.

  “Of course you are, but you’re not the right prince for me.” She smiled. “You need to find yourself a princess much like Lady Victoria, someone who’ll fit into your world and help you achieve your goals.”

  Oliver wanted to argue, but deep in his heart, he knew she made perfect sense. “You’re sure about parting ways the night of the ball?”

  “I think that would be for the best, as long as you’ve completed your business with the duke by then.”

  “I’m really not certain the duke still intends to come to Abigail’s event.”

  Harriet’s eyes widened. “But . . . Abigail’s been working like mad and . . . what would we tell all the guests if the guest of honor doesn’t show up?”

  “He’ll be there.”

  Oliver swung his attention to the doorway and found none other than Lady Victoria standing there, biting her lip and looking completely miserable.

  “How long have you been listening to us?” Harriet asked as she got to her feet.

  “Long enough to realize that the two of you are considering putting an end to your engagement and . . . it’s all my fault.”

  With that, Lady Victoria dissolved into a fit of weeping, crossed the room in a flash, and much to Oliver’s surprise, flung herself, not into his arms, but into Harriet’s.

  19

  A day and a half later, Harriet’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point, quite like the laces Millie was currently torturing her with.

  “I’m not going to be able to breathe, let alone eat, if you pull those any tighter,” Harriet managed to get out in a voice that was barely more than a whisper, given that Millie seemed to have pushed all the air out of her lungs with her last tug of the corset.

  “You’re the one who insisted on wearing this refashioned gown of your mother’s. As you remarked more than once while you altered it, your mother had a very small waist. Since you claimed it would ruin the line of the gown if you added additional fabric to the waistline, well, lacing you as tightly as possible is the only way we’ll fit you into it. But at least now I know I can squish your waist to that desirable eighteen inches.” Millie gave one last tug of the laces, tied them in a competent knot, and moved to stand in front of Harriet. “There, how do you feel?”

  “Stuffed.”

  “Well, your waist looks absolutely tiny now,” Lucetta exclaimed as she walked around Harriet and eyed her for a second, “and your bosom . . . hmmm . . . that might be a cause for concern.” She turned to consider the gown that hung on a nearby dress form. “Perhaps we could add some lace to the bodice.”

  “I don’t think we have time for that,” Harriet said. “Maybe I should just wear the gold gown from Arnold Constable & Company. The sales lady assured me it was a design straight from Paris, so it would be completely acceptable—and I might even be able to breathe in it.”

  “Absolutely not,” Millie argued. “You’ve been dying to have someplace to wear your mother’s gown ever since you managed to get it away from Jane last year on your birthday. This ball is the perfect opportunity for that. Besides, since it was your mother’s, I imagine it’ll give you a little piece of comfort as you take on society tonight.”

  “And,” Lucetta continued with a nod, “you told me bright and early this morning that you dreamed y
ou wore your mother’s gown to the ball. Honestly, Harriet, you must realize that could have very well been a little push from God, sending you that piece of comfort Millie just mentioned.”

  Harriet grinned. “With reasoning like that, I’d be foolish not to wear my mother’s gown. And since Oliver and I will be parting ways after tonight, this might be my one and only chance to wear a ball gown.”

  “I noticed Abigail very considerately forgot all about her chaperoning duties when you had Oliver escort you over to the boardinghouse to pick up the gown,” Lucetta said with a curve of her lips.

  “She’s still trying her very best to plot, but I’m afraid her efforts are for naught. Oliver and I agreed that after tonight we’ll part ways. Even though I realize Abigail wishes things were different, they’re not. Oliver is, and will always be, one of the wealthiest gentlemen in the country. I’ll always be a woman with questionable parentage who makes her living as a seamstress. It would never work.”

  “But Oliver insinuated he might like to try to make it work,” Lucetta argued.

  “Oliver didn’t know what he was insinuating,” Harriet argued right back. “He certainly didn’t mention a word about love.”

  Lucetta blew out a breath. “He didn’t mention love because he’s a gentleman, and they’re rarely proficient with expressing their feelings. You also have to take into account that the two of you haven’t exactly known each other for very long.”

  “Which is why it won’t be all that difficult to continue on without him.”

  Lucetta’s expression turned decidedly grouchy. “I wonder what more would have been said between the two of you if Lady Victoria hadn’t interrupted.”

  “I was thankful she interrupted because, quite frankly, there really was nothing else to be said.” Harriet shook her head. “I felt simply horrible for the girl. It couldn’t have been easy for her to come and apologize to me for trying to abscond with my fiancé.”

  “I have a hard time sympathizing with a lady who was born to wealth and coddled her whole life—that coddling leaving her to believe that whatever she wants, she’s entitled to get,” Lucetta said.