After a Fashion (38 page)

“This was not what we agreed on,” Jane whispered furiously, stepping closer to Silas, her face now mottled with rage. “You promised to introduce me to society as Harriet’s doting aunt because of information I gave you about my niece. However, you never mentioned anything at all about setting me up for embarrassment in the process.”

Silas shrugged. “My dear woman, are you really so naïve that you actually believed I followed you that day from Oliver’s house because I had anything other than a personal agenda on my mind?” He released a laugh. “I expected better of someone with your diabolical nature, but . . . as you can see, you, my dear, were only a means to an end for me.”

He gestured to the crowd again. “When I learned that Jane Peabody’s crime of choice these days is blackmail, I realized that her niece—lovely Harriet here—was obviously perpetuating a fraud against our very own Mr. Oliver Addleshaw. I immediately knew it would be less than responsible, being one of his
old
friends, to not point out to him that his fiancée is nothing less than a confidence artist following in her aunt’s footsteps. You’ll be surprised to discover that Harriet, until very recently, worked in a hat shop of all things, and . . . lovely Jane told me that her niece had readily agreed to bring her into society after Harriet got introduced around a bit. The purpose of that agreement, my friends, was undoubtedly to increase Jane’s bank account since she wanted to use her introduction into society to collect juicy tidbits about each and every one of you. It doesn’t take much deduction to realize she would then use those tidbits to divest you of your hard-earned funds.”

“That’s not true . . . . Well, the part about my aunt does hold
quite a bit of truth, but”—Harriet ignored Oliver’s warning squeeze—“I was not planning any confidence scheme with my aunt or on my own.”

“Are you going to claim next that you were never a hat girl, because . . .” Silas raised a hand and waved someone forward.

A moment later, Harriet found herself facing Miss, Mrs., and Mr. Birmingham, all three of them looking exceedingly pleased with themselves, and all of them sending smug looks her way.

“Is this the woman who delivered your hats, Miss Birmingham?” Silas asked.

“Indeed she is,” Miss Birmingham said with a sniff. “And . . . I know for a fact that, other than perpetuating a fraud against Mr. Addleshaw, she’s also possessed of a most violent nature, given that she assaulted me. I’m sure I still have the bruises to prove it.”

The whispers were immediate, but Harriet ignored them because Oliver had drawn himself up to his full height and was moving closer to the Birmingham family. “None of you have any business being here, and considering your less-than-acceptable behavior that day, Miss Birmingham, it’s confusing to me why you’d throw nasty accusations Harriet’s way. I’m too much of a gentleman to disclose the extent of your bad behavior in front of this gathering, but if you malign Harriet again, I might be forced to forget I’m a gentleman.”

Mr. Birmingham clenched his fists. “No true gentleman would take up with a hat girl.”

Silas rubbed his hands together. “I must admit I’m beyond curious as to how you became engaged to Miss Peabody, given that you only recently met her, and it also seems that you met her when she was still a . . . hat girl.” He smiled. “Could it be possible that you were so taken in by her obvious beauty that you never bothered to investigate her past?”

“I know all about her past, Silas, including everything regard
ing her aunt. Why, I even know that Jane sent Harriet a diamond necklace on her birthday, probably to force her niece into doing her bidding, but . . . instead of keeping the necklace, or giving in to Jane’s demands, Harriet had it delivered to the police.” Oliver ignored Jane’s hiss of rage. “Harriet’s response shows you the true measure of her character. She might have suffered an unfortunate upbringing, but instead of becoming a lady possessed of questionable morals, she’s honorable, charming, and I’m fortunate to have her in my life.”

Right there and then, Harriet fell in love.

It would have been so easy for Oliver to have done what she’d asked, to let her take responsibility for everything, but that clearly wasn’t in his nature. He was chivalrous, kind, surly upon occasion, and far too attractive for his own good, but he was a just and honorable man, and she could no longer deny that she held him in great esteem.

Jane stepped forward. “Did she tell you that she’s illegitimate and that her mother was nothing more than a conniving . . .”

“You will not speak about Harriet’s mother,” Oliver interrupted in a lethal voice. “Nor will you ever contact Harriet again after you leave this ball.”

Jane lifted her chin. “You dare to threaten me, boy? She’s my niece, and I’ll contact her whenever I please. You should be thankful you’re being given the truth about her, although why you keep trying to defend her is a little confusing to me.”

“I find I’m confused as well.”

Harriet resisted a sigh when she looked over at the double doors leading into the ballroom and discovered none other than the Duke of Westmoore standing there.

Jane sucked in a sharp breath before edging behind Silas, but before Harriet could dwell on the reason behind that, Victoria materialized out of the crowd and hurried to her father’s side. The young lady didn’t seem bothered at all by the silence in the
ballroom but simply took hold of her father’s arm and immediately began trying to tug him out of the room.

“You’re supposed to wait to make a grand entrance, Father, but . . . given that the conversation has turned a little disturbing, I think it might be for the best if you take me back to the hotel.”

“You may wait for me outside this room, Victoria,” the duke said. “I’ll join you directly, but I need some answers before I take my leave, especially since I’ve agreed to enter into a business alliance with Mr. Addleshaw.” He settled his attention on Oliver, quirking a brow.

Harriet started forward, wanting to get to the duke before Oliver got to him and took all the blame. Unfortunately, Oliver seemed to know exactly what she was about, because he wouldn’t allow her to shake out of his hold. He pulled her to his side and began walking slowly in the duke’s direction, speaking to her under his breath as they walked. “We’re in this together, Harriet, so don’t even think you’re going to tell him this was all your idea.”

“The truth will harm you and will certainly see the end of your deal with the duke.”

“Perhaps, but you once told me that you’re not fond of lies. I’m suddenly of the belief that this—” he stopped walking and looked back at Silas and Jane—“is Someone’s way, if you will, of telling us we need to make this right.”

“I’m not saying I don’t agree,” she said as they began walking again, “but you’ll suffer more from what we’ve done than I will, which hardly seems fair.”

“I’m not actually that worried about it,” he said, slowing his steps to a stop when they reached the duke and Victoria, who clearly hadn’t gone to wait for her father in the hallway.

Drawing in a breath, Harriet lifted her head to meet the duke’s gaze, but found him looking not at her face but . . .

“Miss Peabody, where in the world did you get that gown?” he demanded.

Of all the words she’d been expecting to come out of the duke’s mouth, those hadn’t come close. “My . . . ah . . . aunt gave it to me.”

“How did she come by it?”

Confusion, mixed with a hefty dose of alarm, swirled over Harriet. By the distinct edge in the duke’s voice, she knew something was dreadfully amiss, but rather than speculate on what that could be, she decided on the spot that her best, and perhaps only option, was to direct the conversation to the one person who might have some answers. “Excuse me for a moment, Your Grace,” she said.

Sending Oliver what she hoped was a reassuring smile as she withdrew her hand from his arm, she began marching across the eerily silent ballroom, determined to reach her aunt as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, Jane was no longer hiding behind Silas but was winding her way through the crowd, her goal apparently being that of making a hasty escape. Harriet took off after her, breaking into a run when Jane looked over her shoulder and then picked up her skirt and dashed forward. Snagging hold of Jane’s arm right as her aunt reached a door leading to the servant stairs, Harriet pulled her to a stop.

“Since you obviously came to the ball this evening for the purpose of being introduced to society, you should be thrilled beyond measure that I, being your dutiful niece, am now going to fulfill your every dream by introducing you to a real live duke,” Harriet said.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Jane snapped, trying to tug out of Harriet’s hold. When Harriet wouldn’t let go, Jane resorted to kicking her, hard.

Digging her fingers into Jane’s arm, Harriet began hauling her forward. “I’m not letting you slip out of whatever this is, Jane, so you might as well stop struggling. Tell me, before we reach the duke, why is he so interested in my dress?” she asked as Jane tried to kick her again.

“Let go of me, or I swear, you’re going to regret it.”

“I’m fairly sure I don’t have much left to regret, thanks to you and Silas,” Harriet said, pulling her aunt forward another few feet before a lady’s voice suddenly rang out, stopping Harriet in her tracks.

“Good heavens! Is that you, Jane?”

Keeping a hand on Jane’s arm, even though her aunt had stopped struggling, Harriet lifted her head and settled her attention on a beautiful lady who was framed in the doorway leading into the ballroom. She was dressed in an exquisite gown that could have been made by no other designer but Worth, and a tiara nestled in her dark, elaborately styled curls. When the duke moved to join the lady, Harriet realized she was looking at the duchess.

But . . . how in the world did the Duchess of Westmoore know her aunt, and . . . why did the duchess’s face seem so familiar . . . and . . . why was a distinct feeling of queasiness beginning to settle in the pit of her stomach?

The room began to swim out of focus, but then Jane shrugged away from Harriet and walked not for the back door but directly across the ballroom and toward the duchess, spreading out her arms in a gesture of welcome.

“Margaret, my goodness but this is an absolute delight. Why, I haven’t seen you for an age,” Jane gushed in an accent that was distinctly British. “I had no idea you were expected in town.”

Silas suddenly stepped out of the crowd, moved to stand in front of the duchess, bowed and then turned to Jane. “My, my, Miss Peabody, you have been busy over the years, haven’t you, but tell me . . . how are you acquainted with the Duchess of Westmoore? Old friends, are you?”

The duchess lifted her chin. “Forgive me, sir, but did you just call Jane . . . Miss Peabody?”

Silas laughed. “Should I assume that’s not her name?”

Before she could answer him, Oliver took Silas by the arm and hauled him out of the way, leaving Jane standing by herself, facing the duchess.

“When did you change your name from Waldburger to Peabody?” Margaret asked.

Jane let out an honest-to-goodness giggle. “You must remember that I never cared for the name Waldburger, and I always thought Peabody had a certain charm.”

“It was the name of one of my dogs.”

“So it was.” Jane giggled again. “Now then, dear Margaret, while I’d love to catch up with you on everything that’s been happening in your life over the past twenty or so years, I just recalled a most pressing appointment that I simply must keep. I’m afraid my niece and I must take our immediate leave.”

“I wasn’t aware you had a niece, Jane. Since you’re going by the title of Miss, I would have to imagine you never married, and since you’re an only child . . . ?”

“Harriet’s more of an honorary niece,” Jane said in a rush, “and although I’d welcome the chance to introduce the two of you . . . she’s a shy sort and would die of embarrassment to be introduced to a duchess. But again, I do have that pressing engagement, so I really must get on my way.” Jane spun around, trotted across the ballroom floor, snagged hold of Harriet’s arm when she reached her, and proceeded to try to drag Harriet out of the room.

“Have you lost your mind?” Harriet asked, trying to free herself from Jane.

“Stop fighting me,” Jane snapped. “I’m trying to keep both of us from being arrested.”

“Is that young lady wearing my old dress?”

Jane froze, loosened her grip on Harriet, but then shoved Harriet behind her before she faced Margaret once again. “Fine, now you know why I didn’t want you to meet my niece. I nicked
your dress before I left England, and Harriet, unfortunately, took tonight of all nights to wear it.”

Harriet tried to step around Jane, but Jane abruptly turned, and the sight of her eyes burning with what looked like insanity froze Harriet on the spot.

“Stay hidden,” Jane hissed before she turned and positioned herself so that Harriet was hidden from the duchess’s view. “I do hope you realize, my dear, dear Margaret, that I only took your dress so that I’d have a little piece of you to remind me of our friendship after we parted ways.”

Standing on tiptoe, Harriet discovered the duchess walking slowly across the room, her beautiful face marred by a frown.

“If memory serves me correctly, Jane, you willingly left your position as my paid companion. Forgive me, but I thought the last time we saw each other, as you said your good-byes, you looked remarkably relieved to be parting ways with me.”

Jane released an exaggerated sigh. “Don’t be silly, Margaret, of course I wasn’t relieved to be parting ways with you. If you must know, your sorrow was enough to break anyone’s heart at that time, and I couldn’t bear to witness you so distraught, which is why I resigned as your paid companion.”

An elbow to her ribs had Harriet dropping from her toes, but then she leaned to the side and managed to catch sight of the duchess again. She was standing stock-still, her head tilted, and she was biting her lip, something Harriet did often when she was trying to figure something out.

“You mentioned your niece’s name is Harriet?”

“Did I?” Jane countered in a voice that had turned shrill.