After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(104)

“Harriet . . .” Lucetta began.

“I’ll just leave it under your pillow if you don’t take it now.”

Millie let out a sniff. “You worked hard to earn that money.”

“No, I didn’t. All I did was shop, practice table manners, set a restaurant on fire, and danced one dance with Oliver at a ball before chaos descended.”

Millie got to her feet and reluctantly took the money. “You also fell in love with Oliver.”

“Perhaps.”

“You’re willing to simply sail away from him?” Millie pressed.

“Although I do think he cares for me, he never claimed to be in love with me.” Harriet blew out a breath. “But in order for both of you to truly understand why I’m leaving, I’m going to tell you a little story about me. It’s one I’ve shared with Oliver, and it’ll explain why I have to leave—in addition to the fact that I need to spend time with my family.”

Moving to a chair piled high with gowns, Harriet brushed them to the floor and took a seat. “Most people don’t know this about me, but . . . I’m a hopeless romantic at heart.”

Releasing a snort, Lucetta shook her head. “No, you’re not.”

Harriet narrowed her eyes. “Do you want to hear the story or not?”

“Sorry. Continue.”

“Where was I?”

“You’re a romantic at heart,” Millie supplied.

“Yes, quite right. Thank you, Millie.” Harriet settled back into the chair. “Well, you see, while I was in the circus, I got to be friends with the bearded lady, and she, being a truly delightful woman, began sharing her books with me, books that had more than one fairy tale residing within the pages.”

Millie’s eyes widened. “You read fairy tales with a bearded lady?”

Harriet nodded. “Strange, I know, but as I said, she was a delightful sort, and I’ve come to believe, given that her face truly was covered with a real beard, that she needed those fairy tales just as desperately as I did. She and I were prone to sighing rather heavily at the end of the stories, especially when the fair princess who fought to live under trying circumstances was rescued in the end by a dashing prince on a white steed.” She looked at her friends. “That’s what I want more than anything—a fairy-tale ending, and I’m no longer willing to settle for anything less than that.”

Millie’s eyes grew misty, she opened her mouth, but all that came out was one, lone hiccup before she drew in a deep breath and exchanged a glance with Lucetta.

Lucetta smiled. “You really are a romantic at heart, and you’ve achieved part of your dream, turning into a princess of sorts.”

“And Oliver makes a nice prince,” Millie said before she bit her lip. “Or maybe he’s more the knight in shining armor, considering how he came to your defense at the ball.” She smiled. “But whichever one he is, I do think he’s a good man at heart.”

Harriet returned Millie’s smile. “You’re right, of course, but the reality of our situation is that I barely know him, and I want a man to sweep me off my feet, and . . .” She shook herself. “Well, I’m sure both of you understand what I’m trying to say, but enough about my little romantic dream. We’re running short on time, and we need to get these gowns packed up. Then I’m going to have to figure out what to do with them.”

“Abigail said to tell you that you can store them at her house.”

Harriet stood up. “I wouldn’t want to dump all of these on her, and besides, it’s not as if I’m ever going to open up my own shop now.” She brushed aside the stab of pain that thought evoked. “Maybe we should have them delivered to another seamstress, one who could put them to good use.”

“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.”