After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(51)
“That’s because Washington Square is home to many old New Yorkers, Harriet. These families were some of the first to live in New York, back in the day when it was New Amsterdam. They’re very set in their ways and prefer brownstones to the more progressive houses being built on Fifth Avenue. But, brownstones aside, this is a very respectable area, and you and your friends will be safe here.” He tilted his head. “Although, given that you’ve yet to explain what trouble you’re in, and I don’t see you doing that in the near future, given your stubborn nature, I’m going to have Buford stay with you for a little longer.”
Buford let out a loud snore as he sprawled across Oliver’s lap.
“I don’t believe that’s . . . ” Harriet’s words faded to nothing when the carriage suddenly made a sharp turn and jostled both Oliver and Harriet around before it pulled to a stop behind one of the brownstones.
Oliver shoved aside the dress form yet again and pressed closer to the window. A typical three-story brownstone met his gaze, but upon further inspection he noticed the dwelling had a somewhat neglected air about it. The windows appeared to be dirty, and cats seemed to be lounging in each and every one of those windows. For a moment, he thought they’d stopped at the wrong house, but then Mrs. Hart’s voice rang out.
“Miss Plum, my goodness, have you been driving the carriage? I can see the two of us are going to have to have a long chat about what is appropriate and what is not.”
Miss Plum simply laughed and then the carriage shook just a bit as someone jumped to the ground. A second later, the door opened and Miss Plum stuck her head in. “You have a very fine set of horses, Mr. Addleshaw, although the one with the black star on his nose does tend to shy a little when other carriages approach.”
“When other carriages approach, or when you’re driving on the wrong side of the street?” he countered.
Miss Plum sent him a sniff and turned to Harriet. “I think our extended journey through the city did the trick.”
“Wonderful,” Harriet exclaimed, handing Miss Plum the rewrapped bustle before she began scooting for the door.
“What trick?” Oliver asked.
Miss Plum didn’t so much as blink. “Why, that poor Darren seems to be doing much better now that he was given an opportunity to enjoy all of that lovely fresh air.”
Before he could argue with that bit of nonsense, Miss Plum grabbed a bag filled with odds and ends and disappeared, leaving him to watch Harriet struggle out of the carriage.
“Aren’t you coming?” she asked when she finally managed to reach the ground.
“I don’t seem capable of moving just yet, given that Buford is still lying over me. Do you think you can get him out of the carriage?”
Harriet looked over her shoulder before she turned back to him. “I think we should leave Buford here, especially since Mrs. Hart seems to have a fondness for cats. It would be horrible if Buford decided to eat some of them.”
“Buford won’t eat the cats. He’s . . .” Oliver’s voice trailed off when Buford suddenly lifted his head and licked his lips. “On second thought, maybe I should take him home with me.”
“That might be for the best.”
Unfortunately, Buford seemed to have other ideas. He wiggled his way off Oliver’s lap and slipped out of his collar when Oliver grabbed it. Before Oliver could get a hold on him, the dog leapt out of the carriage and took off for the house. Less than a minute later, the sound of outraged cats split the air, followed quickly by the yells of an outraged Mrs. Hart.
12
Ah, Harriet, I thought I’d find you in here.” Millie breezed into Mrs. Hart’s formal dining room, a ratty old dictionary clutched in her hand. “How goes the cutlery lesson?”
Harriet gestured to the massive place setting spread in front of her, one she’d been spending countless hours with during the three days she’d been living under Abigail Hart’s roof. “It’s confusing, and every time the sun streams through the windows, I’m in danger of going blind from the reflections bouncing off the silver and crystal.” She grinned and held up a strange-looking spoon. “I’m making progress, though, since I’ve recently discovered, according to the notes Oliver’s grandfather made up for me, that this spoon is specifically used for pudding.”
“Archibald Addleshaw is such a dear gentleman for taking the time to assemble those notes for you, Harriet,” Abigail said, walking into the room with Buford and a slew of cats trailing after her. “Why, we’re fortunate indeed that he traveled straightaway to the city after he received my telegram, and that he’s decided to throw himself wholeheartedly into this daunting business of polishing up your manners.”
“I do have a few manners at my disposal, Mrs. Hart, so I’m not certain your claim of it being a daunting business is exactly accurate.”
Abigail waved Harriet’s protest aside before she smiled and nodded at Buford, who was now lounging in a spot of sun with the cats curled around him. “Isn’t he simply adorable?”
“You didn’t find Buford adorable when you thought he was about to eat your cats.”
Pulling out a chair upholstered in gold damask trimmed with black, Mrs. Hart took a seat. “All water under the bridge, my dear, and no one can blame me for thinking Buford was about to eat Fluffy, considering he had her in his mouth.”