After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(34)



“She does, frequently at that, which is how I know they’ll have everything you need, all under one roof. Quite frankly, I’m a little confused as to why you didn’t start at department stores in the first place.”

“Because, again, they draw in elite crowds.”

“Madame Simone is one of the leading designers in the city, and yet you went to her shop.”

“I thought I would be less conspicuous there, since there wouldn’t be as many ladies roaming around.”

“You think entirely too much,” he said before he took hold of her arm again, and with quite a bit of prodding on his part, finally got her out of the unmentionables shop and back on the sidewalk.

“I’ll embarrass you,” she finally whispered.

“You won’t,” he said softly. “You’re now, for all intents and purposes, a lady I hold in deepest affection. Once you show up at Arnold Constable & Company on my arm, you’ll be treated like a princess, but you need to trust me.”

She stopped moving, but since he wasn’t willing to stand for another hour on the sidewalk, he prodded her forward, not speaking until they reached the department store—where he found he couldn’t actually make her walk up the steps.

For a wisp of a lady, she really was incredibly strong—and . . . stubborn.

“I can’t do it.”

“You can do it. Just think about that shop you want to open and know that this is just something you have to do to attain your goal.”

Harriet opened her mouth, looked as if she wanted to argue, but then pressed her lips together right before she nodded. “Very well, but do remember that this was your idea.” She tightened her fingers around his arm and, with her feet dragging only a little, allowed him to escort her through the front door.





8





Terror seized hold of Harriet and wouldn’t let go as Oliver escorted her across the marble floor. He led her deeper into the bowels of Arnold Constable & Company, and with every step they took, her terror increased. Her mouth felt incredibly dry, her heart was racing, and when she looked up and saw not one but several glass chandeliers swaying from the ceiling, her stomach immediately turned queasy.

A strange ringing sounded in her ears when she glanced around the room and discovered a well-dressed lady staring in her direction, the scarf the woman had evidently been considering for purchase dangling forgotten in her hand. The lady caught Harriet’s eye and sent her a nod, right before she imperiously summoned a gentleman wearing a dark suit to her side with the deliberate movement of a gloved hand. Harriet watched as the gentleman hurried over to the woman and bent his head as she began to whisper furiously in his ear.

Her queasiness increased. This was it—the die was cast. She’d been found out. How, she couldn’t really say, but she knew she was about to be ejected from yet another store, no matter that Oliver was standing by her side, practically propping her up now that her legs seemed to be giving out on her.

“You need to calm down,” he said, placing a hand against the small of her back to steady her.

“That lady is staring at me,” Harriet whispered.

Oliver squinted in the direction Harriet was looking, smiled at the lady and gentleman, who both smiled back, and then returned his attention to her. “Of course she’s staring at you. You’re wearing a very fashionable dress, paired with an unusual hat—but one that, I imagine, will soon be the hat to have in New York City. You’re also beautiful, and . . . you’re with me.”

The ringing in her ears disappeared. “Beautiful?”

Oliver arched a brow. “Fishing for a compliment?”

“For some unfathomable reason, I find myself in desperate need of one right about now.”

“Well then, I’ll have to see what I can do about getting you more than one.”

Bracing herself for whatever outlandish thing would soon come out of Oliver’s mouth, Harriet wrinkled her nose when he simply smiled. But then she was distracted by the disturbing sight of the man in the formal suit making his way directly for them. Fresh terror kept her rooted to the spot—the only movement she seemed capable of making was to peek at Oliver out of the corner of her eye.

To her annoyance, even though Oliver clearly saw the man approaching them, he certainly didn’t seem to realize the gravity of their situation. He was standing there, calm as could be—for all appearances a gentleman who was simply out for a bit of shopping, not a gentleman who was inappropriately escorting a hat girl through one of the most elite department stores of the day.

“Mr. Addleshaw,” the gentleman exclaimed, “this is a pleasant surprise. We haven’t seen you here in months, nor have I seen your mother.”

“Mr. Lamansky, always a pleasure to see you as well,” Oliver returned. “I’m afraid I’ve been out of town of late, and my parents are visiting India at the moment.” He turned and gestured to Harriet. “May I introduce to you Miss—”

“Ah, you must be Miss Birmingham,” Mr. Lamansky interrupted before Oliver had a chance to finish the introduction. Mr. Lamansky’s smile dimmed for a second before he hitched it back into place. “I’ve heard wonderful things about you since you’ve arrived in our city. Tell me, how do you find the shopping?”

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