After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(11)

He wasn’t exactly sure why it was of interest to him either. In all honesty, he wasn’t even sure why he’d asked in the first place.

“Was that all you wanted?”

“Ah, no . . . I . . . ah . . .” He smiled. “I wanted to offer you compensation for the hat Buford destroyed.”

“My hat wasn’t worth much to begin with, so there’s no need to compensate me.”

“Then at least allow me to provide you with a comfortable ride home.”

Miss Peabody blew out what was clearly an exasperated breath. “Mr. Addleshaw, thank you, but no. I prefer walking, and I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

It was apparent that no truer words had ever been spoken. Miss Peabody had a very managing way about her, one not often seen in ladies, and certainly not seen in ladies who were so lovely. He felt his breath hitch ever so slightly as the full extent of her beauty began to sink in. Her face was made up of delicate hollows that drew attention to her unusual eyes, while her lips were full and her cheeks rosy—although some of that color was likely a result of her brawl with Miss Birmingham. His gaze skimmed down her figure, taking in the slightness of her form even though parts of that form were rounded in all the right places.

From out of the blue, an enticing idea began to brew.

He’d been approaching the whole lady business completely wrong.

The only reason he’d invited Miss Birmingham to come to New York from her home in Chicago was because of the Duke of Westmoore and the meetings they were soon to have. If he’d thought about it from a business perspective, he would have realized that he didn’t need a lady by his side, he needed a business associate—who happened to be a lady. More specifically, he needed someone he could pay to be at his beck and call, someone who would not expect to be pampered with new wardrobes and hats or, worse yet, prettily said words so that a lady’s tender feelings weren’t hurt.

He had the strangest feeling the perfect lady to fit that particular role was standing right beside him.

Taking a step closer to her, Oliver smiled. “You’re very well-spoken.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your speech, it’s very refined. Have you had some schooling?”

Miss Peabody’s eyes began glittering. “That’s none of your business.”

“You’re also very fetching.”

“Ah . . . what?”

“You’re quite lovely.”

Miss Peabody began inching away from him. “Thank you, Mr. Addleshaw, for that bit of nonsense, but I believe it might be for the best if we parted ways now. Do make certain to settle up with Mrs. Fienman, won’t you? Even though I know full well I’m going to be released from my position once Mrs. Birmingham has her say, I did promise Mrs. Fienman I’d deliver her bill and do my best to make sure it was going to be paid.”

“Ah, you’re conscientious. Another mark in your favor.”

“Yes, well, again, lovely to meet you, and—”

“I have a business proposition for you.”

She took another step away from him. “A . . . business proposition?”

“Exactly.”

Miss Peabody looked at him and then looked down at the front of her dress, which had large paw prints all over it. One of her hands moved to her head, and she grimaced, leaving Oliver to believe she’d touched a sore spot, put there no doubt by Miss Birmingham’s parasol. She glanced to Buford and finally returned her attention to him. “In the interest of self-preservation, I’m going to have to say . . . no. But thank you.”

“You’re being too hasty with your refusal to hear me out. What I’m about to offer is a wonderful opportunity for someone like you, and . . .”

“Someone like me?”

“Ah, well, yes, you know, a hat girl and not of my social station in . . .” He stopped speaking when she leveled a glare at him that appeared hot enough to melt the skin right off his face.

“Don’t say another word,” she said between clenched teeth. “You have insulted me most grievously, and I will not be held responsible for my actions if you continue to speak.” With that, she turned on her dainty heel, picked up her skirt, and bolted away from him.

Reluctant admiration caught him by surprise as he watched her flee.

Miss Peabody was exactly what he needed. She was lovely, intelligent, and didn’t appear to be possessed of a hysterical nature, even if she did seem to have a bit of a temper. All that was left to do now was convince her it would be in her best interest to join forces with him. But first he was going to have to catch up with her.





3





Slowing her pace when she began developing a stitch in her side, Harriet tipped back her head and scanned a sky that had turned an ominous shade of black.

“I’m still waiting for the wonderful,” she called, and right there and then, the heavens opened up and a torrent of water poured over her—almost as if God hadn’t appreciated her snippy tone of voice.

Dropping her head, she pulled out the horrible hat she had tucked under her arm and jammed it over her hair. Plowing forward, her annoyance increased steadily, especially when a mangled bird on the hat kept poking her in the eye.

Thoughts of Mr. Addleshaw continued to plague her with every step she took. He, and other gentlemen of his ilk, explained to perfection why she didn’t hold the wealthy in high esteem.