After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(38)
Apparently, Oliver had lost his mind, much like he’d lost his buttons, probably right along the Ladies’ Mile somewhere when he’d been chasing her down.
Sending Oliver what she hoped would be construed by the sales ladies surrounding her as a loving smile, Harriet then turned to Edie. “Would it be possible for me to speak with my . . . er . . . fiancé . . . alone?”
“But of course, Miss Peabody,” Edie said, nodding to the other ladies. “Girls, they need the room.”
Just like that, the room emptied, and picking up her skirt, Harriet marched over to stand in front of Oliver. Leaning down, she lowered her voice, not wanting to be overheard but knowing perfectly well that Edie and the rest of the ladies were probably pressing their ears up against the door.
“You were more than generous with the allowance you gave me to purchase clothing, but I have to tell you, I don’t think it was enough to cover all of this.” She straightened and waved a hand to the shoes, hats, and gowns littering the room. “I think we should choose three or four items from the bunch and call it a day.”
“Do you now?” Oliver sent her an odd smile before he rose from the chair and strode to the door. He reached for the knob, pulled the door open, and two of the sales ladies tumbled into the room, landing in a heap at his feet, while the rest of the ladies stood in the doorframe, attempting to look innocent.
Oliver didn’t bat an eye as he helped the ladies up and then smiled at them, causing a few of them to sigh and flutter their lashes. “We’ll take everything here, and I’ll thank you to put it on my account.” He turned to Harriet. “I’m off to wander around the store, but I’ll be back to pick you up in an hour.” With that, Oliver nodded to the ladies and left the room.
9
Two hours later, Harriet dipped a spoon into a rapidly melting mound of ice cream, plopped it into her mouth, and couldn’t quite stifle the moan of delight that slipped past her lips. Allowing herself a moment to savor the treat on her tongue, she finally swallowed and moved her spoon toward the bowl to get another bite. She paused when she realized Oliver wasn’t eating his ice cream, but was watching her instead.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“It’s the most delicious treat I’ve ever had.”
Oliver frowned and leaned across the small table they were sharing at Davis and George’s ice cream parlor. “Haven’t you ever had ice cream?”
“Well, I have now.”
Something that looked remarkably like pity flickered through his eyes. “I’m sorry, Harriet. No one should have to wait until they’re over twenty to experience ice cream.”
She lifted her chin. “There’s no need to feel sorry for me, Oliver. Yes, I’ve lived a completely different life than you have, but I’ve never once bemoaned the fact I’ve missed out on ice cream. One cannot miss what one has never experienced.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “Fair enough.”
“That’s it? You’re not going to try and pull other unfortunate events from my past out of me?”
“Do you want to talk about unfortunate events?”
“Not particularly.”
“Wonderful. We should talk about the opera instead and when you’d like to go. I’m of the belief that Monday is the night to see opera, since that’s when the largest number of society members go, and then—if we were actually in the midst of the social season—we’d travel on to a ball, which I’m sure you’d enjoy tremendously.”
“If I were actually a society member, I’m sure I would enjoy a ball. However, I’m not, so instead of talking opera and balls, we should talk about what you were thinking, buying me so many clothes.”
He licked a drop of ice cream off his spoon. “I’d rather talk about the opera. Do you enjoy it?”
“Of course I enjoy opera, and yes, I have been fortunate enough to attend the opera numerous times. Miss Plum, one of the ladies who shares rooms with me, is often given tickets to different shows around the city.”
Oliver set his spoon down. “I thought you lived with your grandmother.”
“Why in the world . . . ? Ah . . . your driver.”
“Darren told me that when he saw you home yesterday, your grandmother was waiting for you on the stoop.”
“I didn’t tell Darren Mrs. Palmer was my grandmother. He simply assumed that, probably to alleviate the guilt he seemed to feel over dropping me off at what he felt was a questionable location.”
“So Mrs. Palmer isn’t your grandmother?”
“No, she owns the boardinghouse, and I do believe she jumped to a few unpleasant conclusions when she got a look at your fancy carriage.”
“Why do you believe that?”
“Because she literally ran over to the church I attend and told Reverend Gilmore. He arrived at my door soon after he spoke with her, and as I mentioned before, you may expect a visit from him sometime in the near future.”
“Is this Reverend Gilmore a relative of yours?”
“No, he’s simply a friend, but one who believes it’s his job to watch out for my well-being and reputation.” She trailed her spoon through the last remnants of her ice cream. “I’m not exactly certain how he plans on doing that, but you should be forewarned.”