After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(49)
The solution was clear, and although it left a sour taste in Harriet’s mouth, she marched back to the door, pulled it open, ignored the complaints that poured out of Oliver’s mouth, grabbed hold of his arm, and ushered him into her home.
“Just let me stuff this dictionary into my trunk, since it won’t fit in Millie’s, and then you and Darren can cart it down to the carriage.”
Oliver simply stared at Harriet as she threw a remarkably large dictionary into her battered trunk and slammed the lid shut. She brushed her hands together before sending him a look that had expectation written all over it. He didn’t exactly appreciate the look, nor did he appreciate the fact he was more confused than he’d ever been in his life, but no one seemed inclined to alleviate his confusion by explaining exactly what was going on.
“And why is it that you’ve decided to take Mrs. Hart up on her offer and continue on as my pretend fiancée?” he finally asked.
“Don’t you want me to complete the deal with the duke so that you can get your hands on that wool you seem so keen to acquire?” she countered.
“Well, certainly, but I have to tell you, Harriet, you’re acting a little peculiar. Does the reasoning behind the peculiarity have something to do with thinking Buford knows how to open doors?”
“It’s really not very gentlemanly of you to point out I’m peculiar,” Harriet said before she turned away from him when Darren stepped into the room. “Ah, Darren, thank you so much for agreeing to help us. This trunk is ready for you and Mr. Addleshaw to take out to the carriage now.”
“She says that as if we don’t have to negotiate down four very steep flights of wobbly stairs, but simply stroll outside and toss the thing into a carriage,” Oliver said to Darren, who grinned as he took hold of one end of the trunk while Oliver took hold of the other.
It took a bit of maneuvering to get the trunk down the stairs, but they managed to do it unscathed, even if both he and Darren were perspiring rather profusely by the time they reached the bottom step. Miss Plum’s trunk was next, and except for the unwelcomed suggestions Harriet, Miss Longfellow, and Miss Plum called to them as he and Darren struggled their way down the steps yet again, their trip was uneventful. However, when they took hold of Miss Longfellow’s trunk, the situation immediately turned difficult.
“What do you have in here?” Oliver asked Miss Longfellow, pausing right in the middle of the front door because Mrs. Hart seemed determined to take that precise moment to try to squeeze her way past him.
“One should never question what essentials a lady needs to take with her, Mr. Addleshaw,” Mrs. Hart said with a sniff. “Why, I’m sure you’ve just embarrassed Miss Longfellow quite dreadfully since she’s most certainly stuffed that trunk to the gills with her unmentionables.”
“It’s actually filled with all my dictionaries, along with a thesaurus and my recently acquired collection of Jane Austen novels,” Millie said with a grin.
“Essentials to be sure,” Oliver said dryly before lugging his end of the trunk the rest of the way through the door right as Mrs. Hart managed to scoot around him, giving him an unexpected jolt forward when she bumped into him. He was propelled out the door a little faster than he’d been anticipating, which caused Darren, who’d evidently not been prepared to be thrust forward so rapidly, to slip on the wet steps. That unfortunate circumstance resulted in Darren jerking the trunk forward, making Oliver drop it in the process. Oliver could only stand there, frozen in horror, as Darren careened wildly down the stairs with Miss Longfellow’s trunk chasing after him.
“This is no time to dither—help him!” Harriet yelled, reminding him of a not-so-distant admonishment she’d sent him when Miss Birmingham had gotten on the bad side of Buford.
Oliver began running down the steps, but they were slicker than ever, and he slid, tumbling down a good few steps before he finally landed on the third-floor landing. Before he could so much as shake the stars from his eyes, he found himself trampled underneath the dainty feet of the ladies, including Mrs. Hart, as they dashed past him. Pushing up to a sitting position, he peered through the railing, finding all the ladies hovering around his driver, who’d stopped on the second-floor landing. Miss Plum, he noticed, was tearing off a piece of her petticoat, which she immediately began wrapping around Darren’s head—a head that seemed to be bleeding.
“Are you all right?” he called to his driver before he rose to his feet and began making his way cautiously down the steps on legs that were less than steady.
Though there was a dazed expression in Darren’s eyes—not an expression Oliver believed was a result of the fall but from the fact Miss Plum was crooning to Darren in that amazing voice of hers—Oliver came to the rapid conclusion his driver was going to be just fine. When he made the mistake of mentioning that, though, he earned himself a scowl from each and every one of the ladies, right before they sent him back up the stairs to collect a few remaining items.
By the time he’d retrieved those items, which turned out to be more than a few, and they had started off for Mrs. Hart’s home, Oliver was thin on patience. Wincing as a dress form conked him in the head when his carriage made a rather abrupt turn, he shoved the form aside. Looking to Harriet, who was frowning at him from her squashed position on the opposite seat, he arched a brow. “Are you sure it was wise to allow Miss Plum to take Darren’s place and drive the carriage?”