After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(72)
“Don’t let it escape.”
For a second, Oliver remained stuck in his chair when the door flung fully open and Harriet barged into the room.
“She’s heading for the window,” Harriet yelled, the clear panic in her voice finally registering, which had Oliver up and on his feet a second later. He snatched the cat as it leapt for the open window, immediately regretting that particular decision when the monster dug its sharp claws into his arm. Prying himself free of the claws, he breathed a silent sigh of relief when Harriet plucked the cat away from him.
She cuddled the ball of ugliness against herself before she sent him a smile. He couldn’t help notice that even though she was smiling, it seemed somewhat strained, and there was a distinct touch of redness to her nose, giving him the impression she was either coming down with a cold or . . . she’d been crying.
“Good thing Precious didn’t make it out the window,” she began in a voice that didn’t sound as if she were coming down with a cold. Which meant . . .
“I’m pretty sure poor Mrs. Fish would have been beside herself if her cat went missing for good,” she finished, giving the cat a quick hug before she caught his eye.
“Who is Mrs. Fish?” he heard himself ask, even though he was more interested in learning why her nose was red and what she was doing at his house.
“No idea, but I’ll tell you all about that later. I do apologize for bursting in on you, but I couldn’t let Precious make her escape. I’ll go back to the drawing room and allow you to continue on with your meeting.” Turning, she nodded toward Mr. Bambini, but then she stiffened, her smile slid right off her face, and the next thing he knew, he was once again holding the squirming and hissing cat as Harriet advanced on Mr. Bambini.
“I thought I told you I’d deal with Mr. Addleshaw,” she said, standing in front of Mr. Bambini, who’d risen to his feet and was seemingly bristling with indignation.
“And I thought I told you this was gentlemen’s business and I’d deal with it,” Mr. Bambini countered.
Shifting the cat in his arms, another decision he immediately regretted when the cat left a long rip in his sleeve, Oliver moved closer to Harriet. “You know Mr. Bambini?”
Harriet nodded. “We met today and had a most illuminating discussion.”
Mr. Bambini let out a grunt. “There was nothing illuminating about what we discussed, Miss Peabody, and I have to imagine Mr. Addleshaw is going to be most displeased when he learns the particulars of what transpired.”
“He can’t be nearly as displeased as I am,” Harriet said, but even though she was standing her ground against a gentleman who was looming over her, and not giving an inch while she stood that ground, Oliver detected the faintest trace of a quiver in her tone, that quiver causing his temper to rise even as a strange feeling settled in the vicinity of his heart.
The cat took that moment to let out a howl of protest, which had him unclenching the fingers he’d dug into it before he walked over to his butler and held out the now spitting cat. “Would you be so kind as to take this little darling to the kitchen? I’m sure it’ll settle right down if it’s given some milk.”
Mr. Blodgett looked downright alarmed at that idea. “You want me to put my life at risk by trying to get that beast to drink some milk?”
“Precious won’t hurt you,” Harriet said as she took the cat from Oliver and moved closer to Mr. Blodgett. “She’s simply had a tough time of it of late, but I imagine if you add some fish to that milk, she’ll be your newest best friend.”
Mr. Blodgett reached out and took the cat, although he did so remarkably reluctantly, and holding it as far away from his person as he could, began heading for the door. “If you ask me, it wouldn’t hurt this cat in the least to miss a few meals.”
Harriet smiled at the butler. “I’m fairly sure Precious is a bit spoiled, which goes far in explaining her girth and cantankerous nature, but . . . Oh, speaking of cantankerous, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could you send a note around to Mrs. Hart, telling her I’m here and that I’m . . . fine?”
Oliver exchanged a glance with Mr. Blodgett, whose eyes had widened. But, given that the butler was the consummate professional, he sent Harriet a nod and walked out the door, still holding the now squirming cat at arm’s length.
“While this is a delightful surprise, Harriet,” Oliver said, lowering his voice. “What are you doing here?”
“That thrilling tale will need to wait until after I’m done with Mr. Bambini,” she returned before she marched her way back to Mr. Bambini, who didn’t appear delighted she was once again giving him her undivided attention. “There’s no reason for you to linger, sir. I’m here now, and I’ll tell Mr. Addleshaw what happened today on the Ladies’ Mile.”
“You’re going to tell him how Mrs. Henderson assaulted you?”
Oliver was by Harriet’s side before she had an opportunity to respond. “You were assaulted?” He reached out and turned her face toward him, taking a finger to gently touch a scratch marring her delicate skin. “Did Mrs. Henderson do this to you, or was it the cat?”
He felt Harriet shiver ever so slightly as she leaned closer into him, but then she froze, released a breath, and immediately took a step back, leaving him no choice but to withdraw his hand.