After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(37)
“And you really should remember it’s not advisable to insult your employer.”
Harriet brightened. “That’s exactly the reason we can use to dissolve this pretend engagement. You can tell Mr. Lamansky that you and I have had a terrible row, brought about because I have the unfortunate habit of insulting you.”
“You’re reaching now, Harriet, and no, I won’t be doing any such thing. You and I have an agreement, one that will benefit both of us.”
Throwing up her hands in defeat, Harriet blew out a breath. “Fine, you win. I suppose I’ll just have to appease my conscience with the idea that I can now add actress to the list of positions I’ve held.”
“You don’t have to sound so sulky about it.”
Waving the comment aside, Harriet frowned. “Why did you tell Mr. Lamansky that I’m opening up my own shop? And why did you tell him to tell that Mrs. Gould you were going to send her my direction once my shop was ready to do business?”
Oliver settled back in his chair and pulled the edges of his open jacket over his trim stomach. “Mrs. Gould is the wife of Mr. Jay Gould, and he’s incredibly wealthy. He owns over ten thousand miles of railroad lines, and rumor has it he’s recently started investing heavily in the El. If you can garner the attention of someone like Mrs. Gould, you’ll have more orders than you’ll be able to fill.” His smile faded. “We might need to develop a plan for you to bring on other seamstresses and figure out how much you can pay them based on projected profits.”
Harriet’s head suddenly felt as if it might explode. “While that’s an interesting idea, I have to tell you that I have no plans to . . .” A soft knock on the door interrupted Harriet’s speech. She watched as the door opened and five ladies, all dressed in pristine white blouses with navy skirts, waltzed into the room, their arms filled with what looked to be magazines.
“Ah, perfect timing,” Oliver said as he got to his feet. He sent the ladies a smile and walked to the other side of the room. Taking a seat in a chair situated under a window, he plucked a newspaper from a basket at his feet and snapped it open. “Do try and enjoy yourself, darling,” he said right before he disappeared behind the paper.
“Don’t you want a say in what I select?” she asked.
Oliver peered at her from over the top of the paper. “I’m sure you know exactly what you want, and . . . your sense of fashion is probably keener than mine.”
Harriet watched him disappear again, feeling a touch off-balance. He was a very complicated man, one she didn’t understand in the least. Dragging her attention away from him when the ladies began introducing themselves to her, Harriet soon found herself buried under fashion plates and fabric swatches. Before she knew it, clothing was being hauled into the room at a rapid rate, followed by shoes, gloves, hats, undergarments, and reticules.
To her amazement, once she began trying everything on, the ladies fawned over each outfit, extending her outrageous compliments with every change of clothing.
Oliver, it seemed, had known exactly what he was promising when he’d told her he would see about getting her more than one compliment.
“Ah, that is simply delightful on you,” a lady she thought was named Edie gushed when Harriet stepped out from behind a silk curtain and shook out the folds of a lovely yellow gown. “Mr. Addleshaw, doesn’t Miss Peabody look enchanting in this particular shade of yellow?”
Oliver lowered the paper, his gaze traveled over her, and then something rather warm flickered through his eyes. “She does indeed.”
His perusal left her flustered. Harriet felt heat travel from her toes, up her torso, to finally settle on her face. She’d never been a lady who blushed much, but ever since she’d met Oliver, she was doing so quite regularly. “Thank you,” she managed to mumble.
Oliver gestured to another gown. “I’d like to see that one on her next.”
Harriet glanced at the gown he was gesturing to and frowned. “That one seems rather formal.”
“Which means it’ll be perfect for you to wear to the opera.”
“I wasn’t aware we were going to the opera.”
Oliver smiled. “Well, we are, and that means you’ll need something new and pretty to wear.” He nodded to Edie. “I do so enjoy indulging my fiancée.”
It took everything Harriet had in her to not roll her eyes. She was rapidly coming to the belief that Oliver was finding this situation vastly amusing, but she was beginning to think he was getting a touch carried away with the role he’d embraced. Before she could put her foot down once and for all, though, Edie smiled in obvious delight.
“How lovely to witness a gentleman so very fond of his fiancée and so eager to lavish presents on her,” Edie exclaimed. “We here at Arnold Constable & Company are only too happy to oblige you with that lavishing.” She clapped her hands. “Girls, we need to get Miss Peabody into this blue gown, and . . . yes, I think the gold one we have hanging in the designer salon that just arrived from Paris will be perfect with her hair.” She nodded to Harriet. “I will get some of the garments that don’t need alterations packaged up for you, if you are ready to decide on which ones you’d like to purchase?”
“We’ll take all of them,” Oliver said before Harriet could speak.