After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(31)

Oliver frowned. “Are you suggesting that none of these fine shops have anything in them that appeals to you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then why aren’t you buried under packages?”

“I assure you, it’s not for lack of trying,” she grumbled even as she began edging down the sidewalk, as if she’d once again discovered an urge to dash off.

Not wanting to have to chase her down again, Oliver took a firm grip of her arm and held on tightly as they walked through the crowd. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Not particularly.”

“I’m afraid I must insist. Did I not provide you with enough money to purchase whatever fashions caught your eye?”

Harriet stopped walking, forcing him to stop as well. “You gave me more than enough money, which I hope was intentional.”

“Of course it was intentional. I told you to get a few fashionable items, and I certainly didn’t expect you to dip into your own money to pay for them.”

“Thank goodness,” Harriet said before she bit her lip. “Although, I do have to tell you, I used a small bit of that money to buy Buford a steak—well, three steaks, since your dog seems to have a voracious appetite. Oh, and I bought another two steaks for the yippers.”

“I have no idea what ‘yippers’ could possibly be, but you’re feeding Buford steak?”

“I told you I’ve never had a pet before, but I do know that dogs enjoy meat. Since it just so happens I was at Mort’s last night, a dining establishment that grills a most excellent steak, with my friends, celebrating my, err . . .”

“Newfound fortune?” Oliver finished for her when she seemed reluctant to continue.

“Not exactly.”

“Your dismissal from Mrs. Fienman’s shop?”

“Losing one’s position is never cause for celebration, no matter that you’re giving me funds to see me through for quite some time.” She let out a huff. “If you must know, yesterday was my birthday.”

“You neglected to tell me yesterday was your birthday.”

“There was much that was neglected to be said, given Mr. Birmingham’s untimely appearance.”

“Good point, but we have time to discuss matters now. May I inquire as to what birthday you celebrated?”

“It’s hardly proper to ask a lady her age.”

“Normally I would agree with you, but since you’re going to be seen on my arm, it’s most likely a question others are going to ask. It might bring up unwelcome speculation if I can’t answer properly.”

“I’m twenty-two.”

“Are you really? I thought you were closer to my age, and I’m thirty-one, which just goes . . .”

The next thing Oliver knew, he was standing by himself, Harriet having shaken out of his hold and taken off down the sidewalk again.

Apparently the events of the past day or so were catching up with him, because it was completely unlike him to make such a huge faux pas.

No lady, be she society or of the working class, wanted to hear that a gentleman thought her to be older than her years. However, there was just something about Harriet—an air of confidence, he supposed—that made her seem older than twenty-two.

He shook himself out of his thoughts when he realized the exasperating lady was rapidly getting away from him and hurried to catch up with her. “Harriet, wait up. I didn’t mean to insult you.” He reached her side but didn’t take her arm again when she sent him a glare.

“I don’t believe, Mr. Addleshaw, it would be in either of our best interests to continue forward with this idiotic association we seem to have landed ourselves in. I don’t have a desire to find myself in jail, but if I’m forced to continue spending time with you . . . I fear I might be compelled to do something to you that will certainly land me there.”

“Have you forgotten you’re currently without another position?”

Harriet stopped moving. “You’re incredibly annoying. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Before he could reply to that piece of nonsense, she lifted her chin. “But, annoying or not, you do make a most excellent argument. I am without a position, which, I must add, is somewhat your fault, so I’m going to have to force myself to go through with this plan of yours. I’ll reluctantly take your money for my cooperation, but don’t think for a minute I’m going to be happy about it.”

A surprising flash of relief stole over him, causing him to smile, something he quickly stopped doing when she crossed her arms over her chest and began looking grumpy again.

“Your smiling is definitely contributing to my lack of happiness,” she muttered.

Swallowing a laugh, because he knew she certainly wouldn’t appreciate that, he summoned up a look he hoped would pass for somber. “No smiling, I can do that, and I won’t bring up age again, but . . . I do need to understand what difficulty you ran into while shopping. I’ve never met a young lady whose mood wasn’t improved by visiting the shops.”

“One would think shopping would, indeed, improve my spirits, but sadly enough, that hasn’t been the case today.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“And I don’t really feel like explaining my sad day to you.”