After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(57)
“And the reasoning behind that bit of skullduggery would be?” Abigail asked.
Oliver’s lips thinned. “It turns out Mr. Clay has a son, Mr. Franklin Clay, who works at a factory I secured about a year ago. His father, my tailor, Mr. Henry Clay, holds it against me that his son was not promoted into management once I became involved. Quite honestly, I never agreed to push the promotion through. I might have nodded my head once when Mr. Clay brought up the topic while he was taking some measurements to fit me for a new jacket, but I certainly didn’t promise the man anything.”
All thoughts of perfectly tailored jackets showing off Oliver’s fit form disappeared in a split second, replaced with the strange ringing noise she’d experienced at Arnold Constable & Company. “You didn’t make certain Mr. Franklin Clay received a promotion?”
“I rarely concern myself with the day-to-day operations of the many businesses I invest in,” Oliver said. “If memory serves me correctly, Mr. Ruff was responsible for sorting things out with that particular factory. I believe he brought in some of his men to assume management positions there.”
“That was hardly fair,” Harriet said, moving closer to him as her finger, seemingly on its own accord, poked Oliver in the chest. She drew back her hand after she’d poked him and plunked it on her hip so that she wouldn’t be tempted to poke him again. “There were probably men who’d worked at that factory for years, and yet you allowed men who most likely didn’t have the same amount of experience take over the coveted positions.”
“It’s business, Harriet, which I’m quite certain you wouldn’t understand.”
“It’s bad business, and I assure you, I understand more than you think. Did it never occur to you that if you promoted men who’d been loyal to the factory, morale would increase, as would your profits?”
“My profits are just fine.”
“Are you so consumed with making money that you truly believe it was fine for you to slight the son of a man you’ve known for years?”
“Mr. Clay is just my tailor, or I should say, was my tailor. After learning he purposefully dressed me in clothing that was less than perfect, I’ve severed all ties with him. I’m now using Everett’s tailor, who whipped this jacket out from storage and fit and altered it as I waited.”
“You’ve discontinued using your old tailor?”
“Do you honestly believe I should have continued giving him my business?”
“You disrespected his son.”
“He should have simply told me he was angry with me instead of charging me for clothing that was ill-fitting and convincing me that I was roaming around town dressed in the latest styles.”
“It’s hardly Mr. Clay’s fault you’re an idiot. Any normal person would have realized from the lack of the ability to breathe, or even move comfortably, that something was the matter ages ago.”
“He was perpetuating a fraud.”
Harriet saw red. “So are we, in case you’ve forgotten. Is it your belief that only those of high society are permitted to engage in fraud, while those poor souls who are simply trying to right an obvious wrong are punished for them?”
“I did not come here to argue with you,” Oliver practically shouted.
“Oh, why did you come?”
“To inform you that I’m taking you to Delmonico’s tomorrow night. We’re dining with Everett and his Miss Dixon.”
“Why in the world would we do that?” Harriet railed. “I’ve barely learned half of this table setting, and you told me you wouldn’t need me to be at your beck and call until later next week, when the duke is expected, and . . . I have nothing suitable to wear to dinner. I’ve yet to get a delivery from Arnold Constable & Company and was only able to take home a few day dresses they had available for me.”
“I thought you might like Delmonico’s because they serve an excellent steak and you told me you enjoy steak. I’ve already stopped at Arnold Constable & Company, and one of the dinner dresses you ordered is being completed as we speak and will be delivered to you tomorrow morning.”
Some of her anger seeped away.
Oliver was clearly a ruthless and unlikeable businessman, and yet, at times, he could be completely sweet, charming, and far too considerate.
He’d remembered she liked steak, and remembered she’d have nothing suitable to wear. It was more than likely he’d applied a bit of pressure to get her dress finished so quickly, but . . . he’d done so because he apparently wanted to give her a nice evening out.
It was enough to make her head spin.
“ . . . and besides wanting to tell you about dinner,” Oliver continued, causing Harriet to realize she’d missed a portion of his rant, “I’ve also secured premises for your shop and thought you might like to learn the address.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small card, tossed it on the table, and turned and stormed toward the door. Pausing for just a second, he looked over his shoulder at Abigail. “I’m afraid I won’t be available for your dinner tonight, Mrs. Hart, but do give my regards to my grandfather.” With that, he stalked out of the room, leaving an uncomfortable silence in his wake.
“Oh dear, this is unfortunate,” Abigail muttered right before she began moving out of the room. “If you’ll excuse me, I find I have a distinct need to confer with Archibald.”