After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(30)
There was now no doubt left in his mind—she was trying to make a speedy escape.
Breaking into a run, something he couldn’t remember being forced to do in quite some time, if ever, he reached the alley a moment later, and sure enough, Harriet was racing down the cobblestone path, holding her hat with one hand and her skirt with the other.
“Miss Peabody . . . Harriet!” he bellowed, “I insist you stop at once.”
To his annoyance, she continued dashing away, but then she slowed, turned on her heel, and peered across the distance that separated them. He couldn’t be absolutely certain, given the space between them, but he thought he detected a slight drooping of her shoulders before she suddenly squared them.
“Oliver, well, this is an unexpected surprise,” she called before she began walking his way, although her feet seemed to be dragging. “What in the world are you doing here?”
Oliver drew in a breath of much-needed air and swiped a hand over his perspiring brow. “I might ask you the same question. Do you make it a common practice to dash off through derelict alleys?”
Harriet gave an airy flick of a hand. “Of course I don’t normally spend my time in alleys, but . . . ah, I thought someone of a dastardly nature was following me, hence my decision to take the path less traveled, so to speak.”
“I was the one following you, and I assure you, I don’t possess a dastardly nature.”
“Of course you don’t,” she returned with a nod. “However, I’m not overly familiar with your voice, which is why I wasn’t taking any chances. My reticule is currently stuffed with the funds you so generously gave me, and I’m not willing to allow someone of a dastardly nature to abscond with those funds.” She drew in a breath, seemed about ready to continue on with her speech, but then dropped her gaze and, strangely enough, smiled.
“Forgive me, but I find nothing amusing about this situation,” he said when she continued perusing him even as her smile widened.
Harriet lifted her head. “I’m almost hesitant to point this out, given that you appear to be rather touchy regarding your wardrobe, but you’re missing some buttons.”
Oliver looked down, and sure enough, all but one of his buttons were gone. “My tailor obviously didn’t realize I’d be forced to participate in strenuous activities, such as running after a lady through the Ladies’ Mile, when he created this for me.”
“If he were any type of tailor at all, he’d keep all activities in mind when making you a garment.”
“While that is a remarkably valid point, I believe we have more important matters to discuss than my tailor’s proficiency or lack thereof. Tell me, do you often find gentlemen of a dastardly sort trailing you about the city?”
“The streets are full of crackpots and are hazardous at the best of times, especially for a lady traveling alone.”
He had the strangest feeling she was dodging the question. “Do you, by chance, have overzealous admirers who plague you?”
Harriet let out a snort. “I don’t have time for admirers. I spend most of my hours working, or at least I used to, when I still retained a position.”
“So you have been released from your millinery job?”
“Mrs. Fienman sent a note yesterday, informing me of my dismissal. From what I’ve been told, Mrs. Birmingham was most insistent regarding my termination.”
“I am sorry to hear that, but on the bright side, at least now you should feel more comfortable regarding my offer.”
Her eyes immediately turned stormy. “I wouldn’t have been fired in the first place if you’d been more diligent in getting to know Miss Birmingham before she descended on this city.”
Seeing no advantage whatsoever in agreeing with that piece of logic, he summoned up what he’d been told by numerous ladies was his most charming of smiles. “But then we would never have met.”
Harriet muttered something that sounded very much like “Unbelievable” under her breath, and then began marching down the alley toward the main street, apparently not moved in the least by his charm.
It was rather unnerving, her lack of expected behavior.
Forcing his feet to motion, he began trailing after her, searching for something to say that wouldn’t offend the lady. When nothing pertinent sprang to mind, he settled for falling into step beside her, where an uneasy silence descended over them.
Reaching the end of the alley, she came to an abrupt stop as a remarkably grumpy expression crossed her face. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”
“There was an accident on the street, so I’m stuck here until traffic gets moving again.” He tried his charming smile again but felt it fade almost immediately when she looked even grumpier. Instead of bidding her good day—something she clearly wanted him to do—a perverse streak of stubbornness he hadn’t realized he possessed took that moment to seize hold of him. “Since you are so concerned about that money in your reticule, I’ll walk with you. I wouldn’t want a genuinely dastardly gentleman to join you and make off with it.”
Her only response was a single arch of a delicate brow.
Undaunted, he gestured to the shops lining the streets. “You are intending to shop, aren’t you?”
For some odd reason, a wash of pink suddenly stained her cheeks. “I was intending to shop. However, I have not met with much success so far and was actually on my way home when you stopped me.”