After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(14)

“And that quick wit is exactly why I believe you’ll be perfect for what I have in mind.”

Harriet crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine, since it appears I’m stuck here, due to the massive jaws of your beast, tell me, Mr. Addleshaw, what exactly do you have in mind? I’ll give you sixty seconds to explain.”

“Don’t you think it would be more comfortable to discuss this in my nice, warm office?”

“You don’t have an office at the moment. Miss Birmingham turned it into a dressing room, and you’re down to forty seconds.”

A vein began to throb on Mr. Addleshaw’s forehead. “Very well, since you’re obviously intent on being unreasonable, I’ll explain while the two of us get completely drenched.”

“You’re obviously confusing me with Miss Birmingham. I’m never unreasonable.”

“In all fairness, Miss Peabody, I do hope that little statement didn’t take further seconds off my allotted time.”

Seeing absolutely no point in arguing further with the man, Harriet tried her hand at releasing a sniff, just like Mrs. Birmingham had done numerous times during their ridiculous exchange. To her acute embarrassment, though, it turned out that sniffing was not actually advisable when it was pouring down rain, because water tended to immediately be sucked up one’s nose. She sneezed, snorted, sneezed again, and finally managed a halfhearted wave in his direction. “Continue, if you please.”

Mr. Addleshaw reached into the pocket of his ill-fitted jacket and retrieved a handkerchief, although it seemed to be a struggle for him to get it out of his pocket. He shook it out and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she mumbled as she sniffled into the handkerchief.

“You’re welcome.” He studied her for a moment. “Shall I continue?”

“I’m waiting with bated breath to hear what you’ll say next.”

“Ah, sarcasm, how refreshing,” he said pleasantly. “But allow me to return to my proposition. I regrettably have to admit that, because of Miss Birmingham’s behavior, I currently find myself in a bit of a quandary.”

“That must be an unusual circumstance for someone like you.”

“I do believe I’m about to find that sarcasm of yours more annoying than refreshing, but . . . Oh! I think I understand now how I insulted you. Really, Miss Peabody, I wasn’t trying to throw aspersions on your status in—”

“Your time’s almost up.”

He sent her a glare. “If you don’t want to hear the rest of my apology, that’s fine with me, however I did not—”

“You don’t apologize often, do you?” she interrupted when it appeared Mr. Addleshaw was getting ready to launch into a full-scale tirade that would undoubtedly insult her further.

His jaw turned rigid. “You’re beginning to try my patience, but getting back to the business at hand . . . I need a lady.”

“A . . . lady?”

“Indeed, and I’ve decided you’ll do nicely.”

Harriet frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple. Gentlemen of business are expected to abide by certain unspoken rules. One of those rules has to do with having a lovely lady by our side while we entertain our associates. Since Miss Birmingham has proven herself unfit for that position, I’m in need of a replacement, a lovely bit of femininity, if you will, to hang on my arm and my every word as I go about the tricky business of negotiating a deal with a duke. I’ve come to the conclusion you would fit that role admirably.”

For a moment, words were impossible to produce, but only for a moment. “Am I to understand you believe I’m a ‘lovely bit of femininity’?”

Mr. Addleshaw had the audacity to grin. “Well, not at the moment. You’re more of a sodden mess than a lovely bit of anything. But I imagine with the proper clothing and a fashionable hairstyle, you’d be a charming asset, one the Duke of Westmoore would appreciate.”

Harriet yanked on her skirt, effectively pulling it away from Buford, who’d been gnawing at the hem, before she bobbed a curtsy in Mr. Addleshaw’s direction. “You’re delusional, and no, I won’t be accepting your offer.” With that, she spun around and walked as quickly as she could through the stream that had once been the sidewalk.

“I’ll give you five hundred dollars.”

Pride warred with practicality as Harriet’s steps faltered. Practicality won and had her turning. “Five hundred dollars?”

“Indeed, which, for someone . . .”

“If you finish that sentence, I assure you, Mr. Addleshaw, our conversation will be at an immediate end.”

Mr. Addleshaw frowned. “You’re very touchy, aren’t you.”

“And you’re very insulting and condescending.”

Waving her words away with a flick of his wrist, a motion that almost caused one of his jacket seams to come completely apart, Mr. Addleshaw stalked closer to her. “So will you do it?”

Harriet considered him for a moment. He seemed so sure of himself, so very arrogant in his belief that she’d accept his offer that, instead of nodding—something she knew she should be doing—she shook her head instead. “No.”

“What do you mean—no?”