After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(106)
“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.