After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(41)
Harriet’s opinion of Oliver had grown the longer she’d watched him with Herman, something that bothered her no small amount. She’d already come to the unwelcome realization that she was somewhat attracted to the man, but discovering he did have a compassionate side—even though that side had been buried deep within him—left her . . . bothered.
“You were right, Harriet. Herman does make a great sandwich,” Oliver said, steering her over to an empty bench and sitting down beside her. “I wonder if he’d be interested in opening up a shop.”
“Do you ever think of anything other than business?”
“Of course I do.”
Taking a bite of the apple they’d gotten from Martha, she tilted her head. “Like what?”
“Ahh . . . well . . .”
“Do you have any hobbies?”
“Hobbies?”
“What do you like to do when you’re not working—besides going to the opera, that is?”
“I like sailing. Does that count as a hobby?”
“Indeed it does, if you sail on a frequent basis.”
“Define frequent.”
“I don’t know—a few times a month, I suppose, when the weather permits?”
Oliver shook his head. “It’s not a hobby, then.”
“But you enjoy being out on the water?”
“I do, in fact I was thinking about joining the Yacht Club, but I haven’t had the time lately.”
She suddenly felt a little light-headed. “Don’t tell me you own your very own yacht?”
“Are you going to call me a snob again if I admit I do?”
“Probably.”
“Fair enough, as long as you don’t start stomping on my feet again, but yes, I do have my own yacht. She’s a beauty.”
“But you rarely get to go out on her, even though you enjoy it?”
“I enjoy making money.”
“There are other things in life besides making money.”
“Not from what I’ve seen.”
She considered him for a moment. “No, I imagine you haven’t noticed other things, but . . . speaking of money, I need to give you back the money you gave me yesterday since you put all those purchases on your account.” She reached for her reticule.
“Keep it. You can consider it a bonus for having to deal with Miss Birmingham and all of her nastiness.”
“I most certainly will not. You’ll hardly manage to obtain your goal of collecting obscene wealth if you continue handing out money in such a cavalier fashion.”
“Are you trying to lecture me?”
“Someone has to be the voice of reason here.”
Oliver leaned closer and stared at her as if he didn’t quite know what to make of her. For one of the first times since she’d met him, Harriet felt completely in accord with the gentleman, because she didn’t know what to make of him either.
He was a snob, but there was something more to him . . . something she didn’t think even he’d figured out.
Time seemed to stop as the crowd around them faded away and the only thing in the world for Harriet at that moment was Oliver’s face.
It was an interesting face, one she knew full well could turn intimidating in a split second, but it wasn’t intimidating right now, it was . . . confused and compelling all at the same time, and . . . He was one of the most sought-after gentlemen in the country, and yet he was nothing like what she’d expected.
He was kind, in a blustery and peculiar way, and he was overly generous—something that seemed to take him by surprise—and he was all too attractive, even in an ill-fitting jacket with almost all the buttons missing, and . . .
“Harriet, yoo-hoo. Harriet Peabody, over here.”
Switching her attention from Oliver to the two women waving madly at her from the other side of the street, Harriet smiled as she lifted a hand and waved back. “It’s Ginger and Tawny. Why I haven’t—” Her words came to an abrupt end when Oliver suddenly stood up, took her by the arm, and began pulling her down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of the women who were calling out to her.
She shook out of his hold. “Have you lost your mind? Those are friends of mine, and I certainly don’t like being handled in such a way.”
“You have no business having friends like that, and since they’re now running our way, we need to get to the carriage immediately.”
Ignoring him, Harriet turned and discovered that Ginger and Tawny were, indeed, running toward her, their speed causing the feathery scarfs wrapped around their throats to flutter behind them.
“Do not even think about talking to them again,” Oliver growled.
Stiffening, she lifted her chin and spun around, knowing full well as she headed toward Ginger and Tawny that her time with Oliver was about to come to a rapid end.
10
Lurching to the left when the carriage jostled over a rut, Oliver pushed himself upright and resumed the business of watching Harriet.
She was sitting on the seat opposite him, looking out the window, her usually expressive face devoid of emotion. She hadn’t spoken a single word since she’d parted ways with the two ladies, not even when he’d practically dragged her back to his waiting carriage and hustled her inside it. They were now heading for Harriet’s home, and disappointment warred with anger the longer Oliver contemplated the situation he’d recently witnessed in the middle of the street.