After a Fashion (13 page)

It was rather unnerving, her lack of expected behavior.

Forcing his feet to motion, he began trailing after her, searching for something to say that wouldn’t offend the lady. When nothing pertinent sprang to mind, he settled for falling into step beside her, where an uneasy silence descended over them.

Reaching the end of the alley, she came to an abrupt stop as a remarkably grumpy expression crossed her face. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

“There was an accident on the street, so I’m stuck here until traffic gets moving again.” He tried his charming smile again but felt it fade almost immediately when she looked even grumpier. Instead of bidding her good day—something she clearly wanted him to do—a perverse streak of stubbornness he hadn’t realized he possessed took that moment to seize hold of him. “Since you are so concerned about that money in your reticule, I’ll walk with you. I wouldn’t want a genuinely dastardly gentleman to join you and make off with it.”

Her only response was a single arch of a delicate brow.

Undaunted, he gestured to the shops lining the streets. “You are intending to shop, aren’t you?”

For some odd reason, a wash of pink suddenly stained her cheeks. “I
was
intending to shop. However, I have not met with
much success so far and was actually on my way home when you stopped me.”

Oliver frowned. “Are you suggesting that none of these fine shops have anything in them that appeals to you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then why aren’t you buried under packages?”

“I assure you, it’s not for lack of trying,” she grumbled even as she began edging down the sidewalk, as if she’d once again discovered an urge to dash off.

Not wanting to have to chase her down again, Oliver took a firm grip of her arm and held on tightly as they walked through the crowd. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Not particularly.”

“I’m afraid I must insist. Did I not provide you with enough money to purchase whatever fashions caught your eye?”

Harriet stopped walking, forcing him to stop as well. “You gave me more than enough money, which I hope was intentional.”

“Of course it was intentional. I told you to get a few fashionable items, and I certainly didn’t expect you to dip into your own money to pay for them.”

“Thank goodness,” Harriet said before she bit her lip. “Although, I do have to tell you, I used a small bit of that money to buy Buford a steak—well, three steaks, since your dog seems to have a voracious appetite. Oh, and I bought another two steaks for the yippers.”

“I have no idea what ‘yippers’ could possibly be, but you’re feeding Buford steak?”

“I told you I’ve never had a pet before, but I do know that dogs enjoy meat. Since it just so happens I was at Mort’s last night, a dining establishment that grills a most excellent steak, with my friends, celebrating my, err . . .”

“Newfound fortune?” Oliver finished for her when she seemed reluctant to continue.

“Not exactly.”

“Your dismissal from Mrs. Fienman’s shop?”

“Losing one’s position is never cause for celebration, no matter that you’re giving me funds to see me through for quite some time.” She let out a huff. “If you must know, yesterday was my birthday.”

“You neglected to tell me yesterday was your birthday.”

“There was much that was neglected to be said, given Mr. Birmingham’s untimely appearance.”

“Good point, but we have time to discuss matters now. May I inquire as to what birthday you celebrated?”

“It’s hardly proper to ask a lady her age.”

“Normally I would agree with you, but since you’re going to be seen on my arm, it’s most likely a question others are going to ask. It might bring up unwelcome speculation if I can’t answer properly.”

“I’m twenty-two.”

“Are you really? I thought you were closer to my age, and I’m thirty-one, which just goes . . .”

The next thing Oliver knew, he was standing by himself, Harriet having shaken out of his hold and taken off down the sidewalk again.

Apparently the events of the past day or so were catching up with him, because it was completely unlike him to make such a huge faux pas.

No lady, be she society or of the working class, wanted to hear that a gentleman thought her to be older than her years. However, there was just something about Harriet—an air of confidence, he supposed—that made her seem older than twenty-two.

He shook himself out of his thoughts when he realized the exasperating lady was rapidly getting away from him and hurried to catch up with her. “Harriet, wait up. I didn’t mean to
insult you.” He reached her side but didn’t take her arm again when she sent him a glare.

“I don’t believe, Mr. Addleshaw, it would be in either of our best interests to continue forward with this idiotic association we seem to have landed ourselves in. I don’t have a desire to find myself in jail, but if I’m forced to continue spending time with you . . . I fear I might be compelled to do something to you that will certainly land me there.”

“Have you forgotten you’re currently without another position?”

Harriet stopped moving. “You’re incredibly annoying. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Before he could reply to that piece of nonsense, she lifted her chin. “But, annoying or not, you do make a most excellent argument. I
am
without a position, which, I must add, is somewhat your fault, so I’m going to have to force myself to go through with this plan of yours. I’ll reluctantly take your money for my cooperation, but don’t think for a minute I’m going to be happy about it.”

A surprising flash of relief stole over him, causing him to smile, something he quickly stopped doing when she crossed her arms over her chest and began looking grumpy again.

“Your smiling is definitely contributing to my lack of happiness,” she muttered.

Swallowing a laugh, because he knew she certainly wouldn’t appreciate that, he summoned up a look he hoped would pass for somber. “No smiling, I can do that, and I won’t bring up age again, but . . . I do need to understand what difficulty you ran into while shopping. I’ve never met a young lady whose mood wasn’t improved by visiting the shops.”

“One would think shopping would, indeed, improve my spirits, but sadly enough, that hasn’t been the case today.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“And I don’t really feel like explaining my sad day to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because . . . I’m embarrassed—which is one of several reasons why I pretended not to hear you when you first called out to me. I knew it was you, but . . .” She dropped her head and began scuffing her foot against the sidewalk.

She looked so dejected yet oddly adorable at the same time that Oliver suddenly found himself standing right before her, lifting her chin up with his finger. “What happened, Harriet?”

Her eyes turned a deep shade of violet. “Oh, very well, I’ll tell you. But I’m afraid you’re going to be very disappointed to learn how greatly I failed at the first task you gave me.” She released a huff. “I decided to go to Madame Simone’s shop, since Miss Birmingham had spoken so enthusiastically about the place. I will admit I wasn’t exactly certain I’d be able to buy much there, given the very dear prices Madame Simone charges for her designs. But it was a place to start, and I never dreamed everything would go so horribly wrong.”

“And . . . ?” Oliver prompted when Harriet stopped speaking and didn’t look like she particularly wanted to continue with her tale.

“Madame Simone took issue with my gown.”

Oliver looked her up and down. “Your gown is delightful, and you look no different from any of the other ladies strolling around the shops today. Quite honestly, I think you put most of them to shame.”

A lovely shade of pink stole across Harriet’s face. “Thank you, Oliver. That’s very kind of you to say, and I do think this gown is delightful, but . . .” She bit her lip. “It turns out that this particular gown was once owned by one of Madame Simone’s best customers,
the
Mrs. Astor. One of the snotty ladies working the front room of the salon recognized it straight away and called for Madame Simone. She breezed into the room, gave me
a single glance, and then announced to everyone milling about that they were in the company of a thief. She immediately came to the conclusion that I was nothing more than a maid for the Astor family, and a maid who apparently had a propensity for being a bit light-fingered with her employer’s belongings.” Harriet shuddered. “I tried to protest, but she wouldn’t listen to a word I said and instead summoned the authorities.”

“Dare I ask what happened next?”

“Well, obviously I got away, but only because the doorman Madame Simone ordered to hold me clearly wasn’t expecting me to stomp on his foot and dash out the door.” She looked over her shoulder. “For all I know, there could be policemen searching the street for me as we speak.”

“You have nothing to be worried about, Harriet. You’re with me now.”

Harriet turned skeptical eyes on him. “Madame Simone was really upset. She seems to be incredibly protective of her designs, even though the gown I’m wearing bears no resemblance whatsoever to the one she made. It was just poor luck that this material came from a single bolt of fabric, that fabric destined for Mrs. Astor and Mrs. Astor only.”

“How
did
you come into possession of a gown that originally belonged to Caroline Astor?”

Frost clouded Harriet’s eyes. “I didn’t steal it.”

“I never said you did.”

“Your tone implies otherwise.”

A sliver of chagrin took him by surprise. “I apologize, and you’re right. I did consider the idea that you might have obtained the gown through dishonest means, but tell me, how did it come about that you’re wearing a gown that once belonged to the leader of society?”

“Mrs. Astor abandoned this gown when she donated it to the castoff bin at my church. Reverend Gilmore has given me
leave to take some of those castoffs because I have a need for them, whereas most of the poor don’t have a use for such fancy pieces.” She wrinkled her nose. “Speaking of Reverend Gilmore, I do feel I should warn you that he’s intent on seeking you out in the not-so-distant future.”

“While the idea that a reverend wants to seek me out is a little unsettling, I find I’m more curious about the cast-off clothing. Why do you take it?”

Harriet shrugged. “I salvage the material and remake the gowns into different styles.”

“You do this for your personal use?”

“Well, no, except for this gown I’m wearing today and a few others I’ve been experimenting with.” She lowered her voice. “I’m hoping to open up my own shop, you see. There are hundreds of working ladies who occasionally need a special dress but can’t afford to visit the department stores or fancy designer shops. I can provide them with what they need at a reasonable cost.”

“That’s the real reason behind your agreement to our deal, isn’t it.”

“I must admit that it is. Your money will allow me to proceed with my plan without starving to death in the process.”

Oliver’s thoughts immediately turned to business. “What a fascinating idea, and . . . completely brilliant, I might add.”

Harriet blinked. “Do you really think so?”

“Of course. Your costs are almost nonexistent, since you get your material for free. The most expensive part of your idea would be labor, which you do yourself. The money I’ve given you can be used to rent a storefront and . . . Yes, it’s brilliant.”

“You won’t steal my idea, will you?”

“No, of course not, but I wouldn’t be opposed to discussing it with you further at a later date. I know many gentlemen who own buildings in the city, and I’m sure I’d be able to help you negotiate a fair deal on rent.”

Harriet regarded him a little warily. “Hmm . . . Well, that’s very kind and . . . unexpected of you, but isn’t anything we need to worry about right now. My most pressing problem is what I’m going to wear when I come to work for you, because I’m not going back to any of those shops.”

“Madame Simone’s behavior was beyond unacceptable. I just sent her an incredible amount of money to pay Miss Birmingham’s bill, and finding out she and her staff treated you so shabbily today has annoyed me no small amount.” He nodded. “We’re going back there right this minute. You may rest assured that Madame Simone and her snooty helper will be extending you their most profuse apologies.”

Clear horror settled in Harriet’s eyes. “That’s a dreadful idea. How about if I return the money you gave me—except what I used to pay for the steaks, of course—and then sew as fast as I can and try to pull together a few pieces that I think you’ll find acceptable?”

“I don’t expect you to work yourself to the bone in order to produce an acceptable wardrobe.”

“Well, I’m not going back to Madame Simone’s. There’s only so much humiliation I’m willing to suffer in a single day.”

Oliver watched her for a moment, unable to help but recognize that underneath her air of bravado was a hint of vulnerability. It affected him in a most peculiar way and had him stepping closer to her. He took her arm and tugged her into motion. “Fine, we won’t visit Madame Simone’s, or any of the other small shops, but we
will
secure you a new wardrobe.”

“I don’t need a new wardrobe, just a few pieces to see me through the short time we’re going to spend out and about.”

He tightened his fingers around her arm. “Would it be possible for you to just be quiet and go along with me? I assure you, your shopping experience will be quite different while you’re in my company. I would think you’d try to relax that guard of
yours and simply attempt to enjoy yourself. Most ladies I know love to shop.”

“Most ladies you know aren’t hat girls who get booted out into the street or threatened with arrest.”

Seeing no advantage to addressing that disturbing bit of truth, he looked around and smiled. There it was, only a block away—a department store that was certain to have everything Harriet needed. He began walking faster.

“If you haven’t noticed, you’re beginning to drag me,” Harriet complained. “And why are we walking? Isn’t your carriage around here somewhere?”