After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(53)

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Archibald said.

“Archibald, how lovely you’ve decided to pay us a call,” Abigail exclaimed. “I wasn’t expecting you until this evening.”

“Oliver’s left me to my own devices today, so I thought I’d come early and see if young Harriet could use my help with anything.”

He moved to Abigail’s side, kissed her knuckles, which had her turning pink, and smiled. “You’re looking absolutely charming today, Abigail. Have you done something different with your hair?”

Abigail patted the white locks in question. “I’ve hired a new maid, one who is incredibly talented with hot tongs and a handful of pins.”

Harriet sat forward. “Perhaps you could lend me your new maid for a few weeks and you could use Millie.”

“I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your friend’s company, dear.”

“Yes, well, I don’t particularly want to be deprived of my hair, and allowing Millie anywhere near hot tongs puts my health—something you recently claimed you were determined to keep safe—in immediate danger.”

Abigail shook her head at Archibald. “Young people are so dramatic these days. Don’t you agree?”

Archibald, evidently a true diplomat, spoke not a word of agreement to that assessment but moved to Harriet’s side, took her hand, kissed it, and then smiled down at her. “Table lesson going well?”

Harriet returned his smile. “Your notes have proven invaluable, Mr. Addleshaw, but I’m still not certain how I’m going to do around real food.”

“Then you’ll be pleased to learn we’re going to sit down to a formal dinner tonight, with real food no less, and Abigail and I are going to do our very best to make you feel completely competent at the table.” He smiled. “We didn’t tell you before because I wasn’t certain I was going to be able to steal Oliver’s chef away, but since I’m pleased to announce I have been able to abscond with the chef, we’ll dine in fine form tonight.”

“Aren’t you worried Oliver might be a little upset that you’ve absconded with his chef?”

Archibald pulled out a chair and sat down next to her. “Since he stole this particular chef away from me a year ago, I don’t think he’ll protest too strenuously.”

“I also absconded with quite a few members of his staff,” Abigail added. “But since that was done because I was anxious to get my house set to rights, especially with having three delightful young ladies here for a visit, I’m sure he understood. Do make certain to tell him, Archibald, if you see him before me, that the employment agency will have me fully staffed by the end of the week, at which time I’ll send Oliver’s staff back to him.”

Archibald regarded Abigail for a long moment. “You and I have yet to discuss the reason behind your formerly reclusive behavior, my dear. I cannot adequately express the sorrow I feel over not being privy to the fact you’ve been spending years with only cats for company.”

“Regrets can cause a person to do odd things, Archibald,” Abigail said. “But I have no desire to speak further about me and my peculiar ways of late. I’ve made a promise to Reverend Gilmore to prepare Harriet for the task awaiting her, and we don’t have a second to spare, considering we need to shove years of etiquette into a span of days. We also need to devise a credible story regarding her past, so . . .” She settled her attention on Harriet. “Tell us a little about your family.”

Harriet’s stomach immediately turned into one large knot. “There isn’t much to tell.”

“Nonsense, dear. We’ll start with your birth. Where were you born?”

“I was once told I was born in Boston, but since my aunt Jane is the one who told me that, I’m not certain it’s the truth.”

Archibald frowned and leaned closer to her. “Why would you think your aunt Jane lied to you?”

“She’s not what anyone would consider trustworthy, Mr. Addleshaw. Why, when I was about nine, she told me she was related to aristocrats, as in people living in England, and she did that while affecting a British accent. Granted, she was on her second bottle of wine when she told me that outlandish tale, but it just goes to prove she’s predisposed to lie.”

“But . . . what about your parents?” Abigail asked softly.

“Harriet doesn’t have any parents,” Millie said, edging back into the room with the dictionary still firmly in place on her head. “She’s an orphan, just like me, and she had an unconstitutional upbringing.” Millie nodded to Archibald, which sent the book tumbling to the ground. “Lovely to see you, Mr. Addleshaw,” she said before she bent to fetch her book.

“You might want to check your book while you have it handy, Millie,” Harriet said. “I’m fairly sure I didn’t have an unconstitutional upbringing.”

“Did she mean unconventional?” Abigail asked.

“Don’t tell me,” Millie grumbled, opening the dictionary and immediately beginning to flip through the pages. “How am I to learn these words if I don’t look them up and see their proper spelling and definition?”

Harriet felt something squeeze her hand and realized it was Archibald.

“I am sorry, my dear, that you weren’t able to enjoy the benefits of having a loving family surrounding you.”