After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(16)
“Fine, two thousand dollars, then, and an allowance for a few new garments.”
She knew her eyes had to be as wide as saucers. The man was clearly insane. No one in their right mind would offer two thousand dollars and an allowance for clothing for a few weeks’ work. “Ah . . . ” was all she seemed capable of saying.
“Three thousand, but that’s my final offer.”
Harriet’s mouth dropped open.
He really was insane, and it seemed she might be a little as well because . . . “Very well. You win, Mr. Addleshaw, because that is an offer I’m incapable of refusing.”
4
The moment those unfortunate words slipped out of her mouth, Harriet desperately wanted to call them back.
Agreeing to be Mr. Addleshaw’s companion was sheer madness. No matter that the gentleman had just offered her a small fortune to attempt it, she knew perfectly well she wasn’t up for the daunting task of mingling with society members.
Scuffing her shoe through the water that swirled around her feet, she lifted her chin and discovered Mr. Addleshaw watching her with what appeared to be a trace of surliness on his face. “Is something the matter?”
He grimaced. “What could possibly be the matter? I’ve gotten exactly what I wanted. You at my beck and call for the next few weeks with no expectations of a trip down the altar.”
There was definitely an edge to his voice, that edge causing her lips to curl. “Were you not intending to offer me so much for my cooperation?”
“I would have paid twice what you agreed to.”
Her lips curled up another notch. “Now you’re just being sulky.”
To her surprise, Mr. Addleshaw let out a grunt and then, strangely enough, smiled. “Perhaps you’re right, Miss Peabody. If you must know—and it pains me to admit this—I’m unused to anyone, especially a lady, besting me in a business negotiation. You, my dear, have managed to do just that, and while speaking relatively few words in the process.”
His admission took her aback, even as she found herself returning his smile. “Would it be churlish of me to gloat a little?”
“Gloating is not in your job description, but perhaps now you’ll finally agree to accompany me back to my dry home, where we can delve into exactly what I expect of you during the coming weeks.”
Reality returned to smack her in the face. “Forgive me, Mr. Addleshaw, but I must speak frankly. I rarely act impulsively, but I fear that is the case today. You should know that I’m not one who enjoys being at anyone’s beck and call. I believe we’re making a huge . . .”
The rest of her words got lost as a strong gust of wind blew out of nowhere, wrenching the umbrella out of her hand and her hat from her head. She turned to run after them, but rain began falling more heavily than ever right as a flash of lightning lit up Fifth Avenue, followed by a boom that almost had her jumping out of her shoes.
“We need to get out of the storm,” Mr. Addleshaw yelled as he took hold of her arm.
The second his hand touched her sleeve, Harriet felt as if she’d been struck by lightning. A bolt of something incredibly disturbing traveled up her arm and then all over her body. Her feet remained rooted to the spot, even though Mr. Addleshaw was trying to tug her forward.
“Miss Peabody, whatever is wrong with you?” he shouted.
“Didn’t you feel that?”
“Indeed I did, which proves the lightning is far too close for comfort.”
Relief was immediate. It hadn’t been Mr. Addleshaw’s touch that had tingles still resonating all over her, it had been the lightning. Ducking her head when another gust of wind whipped around them, she clutched Mr. Addleshaw’s arm and allowed him to hustle her down the sidewalk. As they approached his mansion, she stumbled when Mr. Addleshaw suddenly stopped moving. She squinted through the rain and found none other than Mr. Blodgett once again struggling their way. He was trying his very best to keep a grip on another umbrella, but the umbrella was turned inside out, not affording the poor man a single piece of protection against the storm.
“What are you doing, Mr. Blodgett?” Mr. Addleshaw called.
The elderly man pressed forward, hobbling faster than ever until he reached them. He angled the useless umbrella over his head and scowled at Mr. Addleshaw. “We have a slight problem back at the house, sir.”
“And this problem forced you out into this horrid weather because it is grave enough that it couldn’t wait until I returned?”
Mr. Blodgett shifted his attention to Harriet. “Well, no, sir. It couldn’t wait—especially because she’s still with you.” The butler stepped closer to Harriet. “My dear, why haven’t you taken your leave?”
“Miss Peabody and I have recently agreed to join forces,” Mr. Addleshaw answered for her.
“Oh . . . dear, that’s a troubling state of affairs.” Mr. Blodgett drew in a wheezy breath and shook his head. “Well, she can’t come into the house.”
Hurt, mixed with indignation, stole through Harriet, even though she should have expected nothing less from Mr. Addleshaw’s staff. She’d told Mr. Blodgett exactly what Mr. Addleshaw required of her, and it hardly spoke well of her character that she’d agreed to take on the role of a lovely bit of femininity. She ducked her head and hoped the color she knew was now staining her cheeks would go unnoticed.