After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(76)

“I’m not surprised. You’ve had a very trying day. I do hate to add more to that, but . . . I probably should tell you something.”

Harriet edged an inch away from him. “They serve more than eight courses at Delmonico’s?”

“No, or they might, but . . . are you worried about that?”

“I only know the proper cutlery use for eight courses, and even that might be a stretch.”

Oliver smiled. “I’ll make certain that eight and only eight courses are served.”

“That would be appreciated and makes me feel a little better.”

“How would you feel if I told you the duke arrived early in town and he and his family will be joining us tonight?”

Harriet’s eyes widened and she turned a little pale, but then she lifted her chin. “I suppose I’d feel grateful that Abigail’s put me through my paces in regard to table manners, because apparently, we’ll be dining with a duke tonight.”





17





There, all done,” Millie said, draping a borrowed strand of Abigail’s pearls around Harriet’s neck before she stepped back and looked Harriet over with a critical eye. “I must say, even though you look very well indeed, I’m of the belief that the gold gown would have been far nicer than this blue one you’ve chosen.”

Harriet tilted her head. “Weren’t you listening to that lesson Abigail gave us, the one concerning what was appropriate to wear to a place like Delmonico’s compared with having dinner at a private home?”

“Honestly, Harriet, it’s a little difficult to keep up with all the lessons Abigail keeps throwing our way. Why, my poor mind can barely take in half of it, so no, I wasn’t listening. But it would have been more challenging for me, as your personal maid, to have laced you into a gown with an even smaller waistline than the one you’re currently wearing, and . . . well . . . I have to admit I’m curious now as to whether or not I’d be able to get your waist to eighteen inches instead of twenty.”

“And since I’m expected to eat eight courses tonight, I’m perfectly fine wearing a gown where you’ve only had to squeeze, instead of smash, my inner organs together.” Harriet grinned. “But, squeezing aside, considering I’m supposed to be blending in with society tonight, I shudder to think what the reaction would be if I arrived at Delmonico’s in a gown that bared my shoulders.”

Millie returned the grin. “I bet it would create a huge fresco.”

“I think the word you meant was fiasco,” Lucetta said, as she waltzed into the room. “And yes, if Harriet were to go against the social expectations of dressing for dinner at a restaurant, it would create a fiasco, and would most likely end up with her being marched out the door.”

Lucetta smiled at Harriet. “I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know you look absolutely lovely and will have no reason to fear you’ll be escorted out of Delmonico’s by any of their always handsome doormen.”

“Their doormen are always handsome?” Harriet asked.

“I think it’s a requirement to get hired there,” Lucetta said. “But speaking of handsome, I came to tell you that Oliver’s just arrived.”

“If I remember correctly, only a few days ago you made the claim that Oliver was a hideous and disagreeable sort.”

Lucetta laughed and sat down on a dainty chair covered in pink upholstery, crossing her ankles, which brought immediate attention to the fact she was missing her shoes again. “No man who has such a delightful grandfather can be completely disagreeable. And, since Oliver also takes after Archibald in regard to his appearance, it would be silly of me to continue to proclaim that he’s hideous, when clearly, that isn’t the case.”

Not particularly caring to dwell on Oliver’s handsomeness, Harriet decided a change of subject was needed. “Speaking of Archibald, have you heard any further mentions of plotting?”

Rolling her eyes, Lucetta shook her head. “Abigail and Archibald are being annoyingly stealthy at the moment, but I do believe they’re most likely still hatching plans. Although, I have recently gotten the distinct impression you’re not the only one in their beady sights, Harriet.”

“What an overactive imagination you have, Lucetta,” Abigail said, breezing through the door before she hurried over to Millie, who’d picked up an atomizer and was aiming it at Harriet. “My dear girl, don’t even consider spraying Harriet again with that perfume. A lady must never smell as if she’s doused herself with scent.”

Setting the atomizer aside, Millie plopped her hands on her hips. “I was just telling Harriet that you’re throwing too many rules my way, but . . . if you’d allowed me to style Harriet’s hair tonight, instead of bringing in that hairdresser, well, I wouldn’t be trying to spritz her with anything because I’d still be arranging her hair.”

“And since Oliver and Archibald have arrived to escort us to dinner, it’s fortunate I did bring in a hairdresser—otherwise we’d be late.” Abigail smiled. “You did a very nice job getting Harriet dressed, Millie, but I don’t want you to become accustomed to being a lady’s maid, since I have other plans for you.”

Millie’s mouth made an O of surprise. “Goodness, you’ve turned your beady eye on me now, haven’t you.”