After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(64)
“She might not have a hold on you, Harriet,” Millie argued, “but you have to know she’s figured out we’ve moved, and that she’s probably learned where we’re living now.”
“True, but she also knows, being as cunning as she is, that it wouldn’t be in her best interest to try anything while we’re under the protection of members of high society,” Harriet argued right back. “She certainly wouldn’t dare try anything while we’re in the midst of the Ladies’ Mile. Since I did assure Abigail we’d be gone for a few hours, and again, she seemed tickled about that, I’m going to suggest we stroll around and enjoy ourselves.”
“Abigail was only tickled to get us out of the house because she and Archibald had their heads together all morning but kept getting interrupted when one of us would enter whatever room they’d taken to skulking in,” Lucetta said. “Without us underfoot, they’ll have plenty of time to plot.”
“That certainly explains why she didn’t insist on accompanying us.” Harriet grinned. “If you ask me, she and Archibald are beginning to enjoy each other’s company quite a bit.”
Lucetta returned the grin. “Now that you mention it, you’re right. And . . . we should do our own plotting and come up with a plan that just might see them embracing a touch of romance, especially since they’re currently trying to figure out how to get you and Oliver together for . . .” Lucetta snapped her mouth shut and batted far-too-innocent lashes Harriet’s way.
“What do you mean, getting Oliver and I together?”
The batting stopped in a flash. “Oh, very well, but I have to tell you that I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, which is how I managed to come across the information I’m about to impart. Abigail and Archibald didn’t know I’d fallen asleep on the chaise in front of the fireplace when they snuck into the library in order to have a private chat.” Lucetta’s lips curled. “They were certainly surprised to discover me there, and after they’d divulged quite a bit of their scheme.”
“Why didn’t you let them know you were there from the beginning?” Millie asked.
“Well, ah . . . I was just waking up, you see, and—” Her eyes widened and she looked around. “Did either of you just hear someone scream?”
For a second, Harriet thought Lucetta was simply trying to distract Millie, but then a woman’s scream really did sound from the very shop they were standing in front of. Turning, she watched as the door sprang open and three ladies rushed out, the sound of additional screams following them out to the sidewalk.
“My gracious,” one of the ladies said as she hurried past. “Poor Mrs. Henderson.”
“Perhaps we should have stayed to help her,” another one of the ladies said.
“That’s Mr. Bambini in there,” the third lady exclaimed. “He owns most of this street, and my husband rents from him. I can’t get involved in that nasty business.”
The ladies’ retreating backs soon disappeared, but then the door opened again and the sound of a dog barking drifted out to the sidewalk. Buford evidently heard it, and before Harriet could catch him, he lunged forward, ripping the leash out of Millie’s hand. He raced through the open door, knocking over the lady who’d frozen right in front of that door the moment she caught sight of the huge dog barreling her way. Harriet rushed to her aid, and after getting the woman back on her feet, muttered a quick apology before taking off after Buford. She made it all of five feet into the store before she skidded to a halt when the tinkles of breaking glass sounded around her.
She stood stock-still for a moment when she realized Buford was loose in a china shop but found the incentive to move when additional shrieking began, more glass shattered, and Buford began to howl. Harriet hitched up her skirts and darted down the aisle, wincing when shards of something that had probably been expensive crunched under her feet. She hurried around a display of delicate-looking plates, caught a teacup tipping precariously close to the edge, set it back a safe distance, and continued forward, slowing to a stop and releasing a groan at the sight that met her eyes.
A lady wearing a white shirtwaist paired with a dark skirt, and who had puffy, red-rimmed eyes, was standing next to an intimidating-looking gentleman with brown hair, huge shoulders, and a curled mustache that took up a good deal of space on his face. They were staring off to the right, neither one of them speaking, and when Harriet turned her attention to where they were staring, she understood why they seemed incapable of uttering any sounds.
Buford was under a small table, the only parts of him visible being his nose peeking out from one side and his tail from the other. A tiny wisp of a dog was positioned right in front of Buford’s nose. The little beast was growling deep in its throat, which seemed to be causing Buford to tremble, because everything on top of the dainty table he was under was shaking.
“Don’t just stand there,” the lady snapped. “Get your dog.”
“He’s not exactly mine,” Harriet muttered before she stepped forward, crouched down, and then blinked when the tiny pooch switched its attention to her and began making cute little doggy noises. “How adorable are you?” she asked before she looked under the table and met Buford’s terrified gaze. “It’s not going to hurt you, Buford. It’s friendly. You need to come out from under there right this minute.”