After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(62)

“I’ll have to go along with it whether I’m willing or not?” Oliver finished for him.

“Exactly.” Archibald smiled. “Tell me though, what was so distracting that you forgot about your plans with Harriet? She’s certainly not a lady many gentlemen forget.”

Alarm bells began going off in Oliver’s head. “Grandfather, forgive me, but . . . you and Abigail haven’t taken to . . . plotting, have you?”

“Didn’t I promise after the disastrous results of bringing you into contact with that lovely, or so I thought, young lady from Georgia, that I was giving up my plotting days?” Archibald countered.

Oliver narrowed his eyes. “Miss Savannah, or whatever her name truly is, was three plots ago.”

“Really?” Archibald asked. “Well, getting back to the dinner party . . .”

“We weren’t talking about the dinner party, we were talking about plotting.”

“Oh look, Mr. Blodgett’s bringing us a feast from the looks of that laden tray he’s pushing,” Archibald exclaimed, turning from Oliver as Reverend Gilmore moved to help Mr. Blodgett negotiate the heavy cart over to a low table surrounded by settees and wing-back chairs.

“This was very kind of you, Mr. Blodgett,” Archibald said, “but I have to ask, since Abigail has Oliver’s chef, who put together such a delightful spread?”

“Mrs. Rollins,” Mr. Blodgett replied. “It was originally meant for Mr. Ruff, but since he stormed out of here in a huff before the meal he demanded could be served, I figured we shouldn’t let Mrs. Rollins’s efforts go to waste.”

“Mr. Ruff left in a huff?” Everett asked as Mr. Blodgett set about the business of serving up food.

Oliver nodded. “He made a huge mess of things down in West Virginia, and because of that mess, I told him we needed to part ways.”

Archibald sat down on the settee, placing his plate of food on a nearby table. “How did he take that?”

“As one would expect. He threatened me and told me he’d see me ruined.”

Reverend Gilmore moved to take a seat beside Archibald, balancing the plate of food Mr. Blodgett had insisted he take on his lap. “Forgive me, but this Mr. Ruff wouldn’t happen to be Mr. Silas Ruff, would he?”

“One and the same,” Archibald admitted. “Are you familiar with him, Reverend Gilmore?”

“I am.” Reverend Gilmore looked to Oliver. “I have to say that this puts a whole different twist on your situation, Mr. Addleshaw. From what I know of Silas Ruff, he’s a ruthless and vindictive gentleman. He won’t take his dismissal lightly, which means he’s a distinct threat to you, and that means he’s a threat to Harriet.”

“Silas might be ruthless, Reverend Gilmore, but I don’t think he’d stoop so low as to hurt a lady.”

“I’m more afraid he’ll use her to hurt you,” Reverend Gilmore said softly. “He’ll strike where he thinks you’ll be most vulnerable. Harriet, given her current situation, is very vulnerable indeed, and if Mr. Ruff takes the time to find out about her and then delves into her history, I’m afraid what he might uncover could hurt you both.”

“Are you suggesting Harriet may have some skeletons rattling around her closet that would be best left not rattled?”

“Harriet’s skeletons are not mine to share, Mr. Addleshaw. She, along with everyone else in the world, has crosses she’s been given to bear, but she certainly doesn’t need more crosses given to her at this particular time.” He released a breath. “I’m afraid, in the interest of keeping her truly safe, it might be for the best if you and she parted ways before any damage can be done.”

“But then she’ll have no choice but to go back to the slums,” Oliver pointed out.

“I think we can trust Mrs. Hart to make certain that doesn’t happen,” Archibald said, although his tone held a distinct trace of disappointment.

“Harriet won’t accept charity,” Oliver argued. “And what everyone seems to be forgetting is that I’m one of the most powerful gentlemen in the country. Yes, Silas is ruthless, and he’s angry, but I’m angry as well, and I certainly can’t see how abandoning my plan is going to keep Harriet safe.”

“Besides, since so many people know about her now, there’s really nothing left to do but go forward with things,” Everett added.

Oliver frowned. “What do you mean, ‘so many people know about her now’?”

“Ah, well, as to that,” Everett began, “that’s actually why I’m here.”

Oliver’s head immediately began to throb again. “Go on.”

Everett blew out a breath. “Miss Dixon and I went shopping today, at Arnold Constable & Company, and the manager there just couldn’t tell Miss Dixon fast enough all about your Harriet and how the two of you are engaged.”

Oliver frowned. “Miss Dixon was already aware of Harriet, since the four of us are supposed to go out to dinner tonight.”

Everett nodded. “True, but I never told her about the whole engagement business, mostly because I had no idea what to say, but . . . after the manager told Miss Dixon about the engagement, we just happened to encounter about twenty people she knew at the store, and of course she told all of them about your engagement, and then . . .” Everett’s voice trailed off, and he began to study the cut of his sleeve.