After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(5)
“You’re allowing your emotions to cloud your judgment, Lily,” the older lady returned in a voice more shrill than soothing. “Mr. Addleshaw was simply surprised by our unexpected appearance in his home. I’m sure once we explain matters to his satisfaction, he’ll be more than mollified, and then the two of you will be in accord once again.”
The lady named Lily stopped in her tracks. “I have no desire to be in accord with that man.”
“That’s ridiculous,” the older woman argued. “You know your father and I are determined to see a union between our families.”
“You marry him, then, Mother, because I certainly never will,” Lily railed as she shook the parasol in her mother’s direction before plowing forward.
“If I were a few years younger and not married to your father, believe me, I’d consider it.” Lily’s mother hustled after her daughter, grabbing the young lady’s arm when she finally caught up with her. “You need to be reasonable about this, dear. We have a lot at stake here.”
“I’m not feeling in a reasonable frame of mind, Mother.” Lily shrugged out of her mother’s hold, whacked the poor woman with the parasol, and then charged forward again. She came to an abrupt halt when her gaze settled on Harriet. Her lips thinned, her nostrils flared, and her brown eyes turned downright menacing. “Who are you?”
Harriet summoned up a smile. “I’m Miss Peabody.”
Lily’s eyes narrowed. “Are you here to see Mr. Addleshaw?”
Harriet took a step back. “Certainly not. I’m here at Mrs. Fienman’s request to deliver hats to Miss Birmingham.”
Lily looked Harriet up and down. “You’re a hat girl?” She let out a grunt as her attention settled on Harriet’s hat. “You’re obviously not a very good one.”
Reminding herself she desperately needed to keep her job, Harriet continued smiling. “I am indeed a . . . ah . . . hat girl, although I didn’t create the hat I’m . . . Well, never mind about that. All you probably want to know is that I’m here to help you sort through your purchases, if you are, in fact, Miss Birmingham.”
“Of course I’m Miss Birmingham.”
“Wonderful. May I say that it’s lovely to meet you, and—”
“I don’t exchange pleasantries with the help,” Miss Birmingham interrupted as she moved closer and jabbed a finger at one of the hatboxes. “Show me what’s in there.”
Glancing up at a sky that was turning more threatening by the second, Harriet was about to suggest they seek out a drier place to inspect the hats, but before she could speak, a gentleman’s voice distracted her.
“Miss Birmingham, you need to repair back into the house immediately. You’re certainly not dressed in a manner acceptable for strolling around in the open.”
Looking past Miss Birmingham, Harriet discovered a gentleman striding in their direction with a large hound of undetermined parentage loping at his side. Her eyes widened as she took in the man’s height, the breadth of his shoulders, and . . . the careless cut of his jacket, which strained against his chest and certainly hadn’t been cut to suit his powerful frame.
Strange as it seemed at that particular moment, she found herself contemplating who his tailor was and how much he’d given said tailor to create a jacket that fit him so poorly.
Shifting her attention to the gentleman’s face, she took in hazel eyes and a sharp slash of a nose that gave the gentleman the appearance of a hawk, that appearance heightened by the fact his hair was nearly as black as her own. His lips appeared to be firm—what little she could see of them, considering they were currently drawn in a straight line—and his jaw was strong but rigidly set, giving testimony to the fact he was livid.
She looked back at Miss Birmingham, expecting her to be trembling on the spot, but instead, the woman was fairly bristling with rage as she swept the feathered scarf over her shoulder and sent the gentleman a look of deepest disdain.
“You dare presume to order me about?” Miss Birmingham screeched. “You forget yourself, Mr. Addleshaw. I am Miss Lily Birmingham, daughter of the esteemed Mr. John Birmingham. And as such, I’ll stroll around outside dressed however I please.”
“You’re in a wrapper,” Mr. Addleshaw shot back. “Your father would hardly approve, and it’s rich you bring up presumption, considering you took it upon yourself to move into my home without my knowledge. I told you and your parents I’d secure you more than adequate rooms at a reputable hotel.”
Miss Birmingham lifted her pointy chin in the air. “This is exactly why I will no longer be marrying you. You’re a complete boor.”
“Forgive me, Miss Birmingham, but we’re not engaged, nor did I ever suggest we were soon to be. I invited you to the city for the express purpose of attending a few society events in the coming weeks, and I was completely upfront with you when I told you why I needed you in New York. If you will recall, the Duke of Westmoore will soon be in town, and I requested your company so that you could help me entertain the gentleman while I go about the delicate matter of negotiating a business deal with him. The very idea that you took it upon yourself to arrive in the city earlier than we discussed and took up residence in my home boggles my mind.”
Panic began pounding through Harriet’s veins.