After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(54)
For a second, tears stung her eyes, but then Harriet blinked and summoned up a smile. “There’s no need for you to feel sorry for me, Mr. Addleshaw. As I told your grandson when he expressed concern regarding the idea I’d never tasted ice cream before, one can’t truly miss what one has never experienced.”
“Please, call me Archibald, and I must say, it’s very refreshing to meet a young lady who looks at life so practically.” His eyes suddenly began to gleam with something Harriet found a little concerning. “It was a very fortunate day indeed when Oliver made your acquaintance. You are exactly what my grandson needs in his life.”
Harriet’s feeling of concern increased. “Forgive me, Archibald, but you do remember Oliver and I aren’t actually engaged, don’t you?”
“But of course.” He gave her hand another squeeze right before he exchanged an all-too-significant look with Abigail.
Harriet’s mouth dropped open. “Good heavens . . . the two of you are . . . plotting.”
“You’re only figuring that out now?” Millie asked, raising her head from her dictionary. “I knew minutes after making Abigail’s acquaintance that she was up to something, and . . . I found unconventional and it exactly explains your upbringing.” Millie’s lips curved into a grin. “Unconstitutional doesn’t explain you at all, unless you’ve been participating in something that goes against our country’s constitution.”
Harriet returned the grin, but before she could question Abigail and Archibald further about the whole plotting business, Lucetta glided into the room, dangling what appeared to be a script from her hand.
“I’m finished, and . . . Oh, hello, Mr. Addleshaw. Delightful to see you again.” Lucetta beamed as Archibald rose from his chair and presented her with a charming bow.
“Miss Plum, delightful to see you as well, and . . . my . . . you’re looking . . . lovely today.”
Harriet’s grin widened as she got a good look at her friend. Once again, Lucetta’s head was sporting a variety of braids, she was wearing a pair of trousers that had seen better days, and her feet were bare. “Got bored going over your lines again?”
“Why would you assume that?” Lucetta asked.
“Your hair is braided on one side, but the other . . . Are those beads woven into the strands?”
“Never mind about her hair,” Abigail said, pushing herself out of her chair before she proceeded to glare Lucetta’s way. “You’re wearing trousers, a circumstance that is not remotely acceptable when entertaining guests.”
“I always wear trousers when I’m learning my lines. As for entertaining guests, I had no idea Mr. Addleshaw would be visiting, but I’m sure he’ll forgive my lack of suitable apparel, given that he seems to be such an understanding sort.” She sent Archibald a smile, which he immediately returned before he settled that smile on Abigail.
“I think it might be for the best if I went to check on how dinner preparations are going.” He looked at Lucetta again, grinned, shook his head, and quickly left the room, something that sounded suspiciously like laughter trailing after him.
“You’ve run off poor Archibald,” Abigail said as she wagged a finger at Lucetta. “And here I was coming to the belief that you, out of all three ladies, weren’t going to need as much work, but now . . .”
Lucetta arched a perfect brow. “I, being one of the most renowned actresses of the day, don’t need fixing, Mrs. Hart. But since my clothing of choice seems to offend you, I’ll go change.”
“You being a renowned actress is exactly why you need some work, but we won’t discuss that quite yet.” Abigail smiled at Harriet. “Harriet deserves all of my attention at the moment, and since I’m sure you and Millie want to help her, both of you will join us tonight at this very table. We’re going to use this dinner as a way to teach all three of you how to eat a proper eight-course meal.”
Lucetta began backing away. “While that certainly sounds fun . . . I do believe I haven’t quite learned all of my lines just yet, so you’ll have to forgive me and excuse my absence tonight. Besides, no one expects an actress, even a renowned one, to know what an oyster fork looks like.”
Harriet looked at the place setting in front of her. “Which one is the oyster fork?”
“It’s the one sitting on top of the spoon,” Lucetta said before she snapped her mouth shut and began fiddling with one of her braids.
“And why does it have to be placed on top of this large spoon instead of just sitting on the table like the rest of the cutlery?” Harriet asked slowly.
“I’m . . . sure I have no idea,” Lucetta muttered.
“The only reason the oyster fork has to be placed on top of that spoon is because some society lady decided it would be a clever way to separate the snobs from the masses.”
Looking up, Harriet caught sight of Oliver, in the company of a distinguished-looking gentleman with brown hair, stepping into the dining room. Annoyance was swift, but it wasn’t his appearance that annoyed her—more that her pulse had begun racing the moment she laid eyes on him.
They had a business arrangement, nothing more, and Harriet knew her attraction to the man would not serve her well in the end. The last thing she wanted to endure was a broken heart, which meant she was going to have to push her attraction aside and strive to maintain a strictly business relationship with him. Rising to her feet, her annoyance increased when she discovered her traitorous knees had gone all wobbly. “Oliver, this is a surprise. What are you doing here?”