After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(77)
“I do not have a beady eye, and there’s no time to discuss your situation further, given that the Addleshaw gentlemen are waiting.”
Harriet’s palms immediately turned moist underneath the silk gloves that covered her hands. “Are you certain this is a good idea, going through with everything, given that my aunt is lurking out there somewhere?”
Abigail stepped to Harriet’s side and surprised her when she pulled her into a firm embrace and gave her a good squeeze. “My dear, I willingly admit I was appalled by the story you told me regarding your life with your aunt, but know that Jane Peabody is no match for me. I will not turn you, Millie, or Lucetta out of my house simply because some confidence artist is threatening to worm her way into my life, and . . . my safe.” Abigail stepped back. “I, my dear Harriet, have been told I’m a force to be reckoned with, so don’t you worry about me.”
“You shouldn’t take Jane lightly, Abigail. She’s a distinct threat, and I wouldn’t put anything past her.”
“And you should believe me when I tell you I’m more of a threat to Jane than she is to me, especially when people I’ve come to care about are put in harm’s way.” She took hold of Harriet’s arm, and with Millie and Lucetta walking beside them, they left Harriet’s bedroom, descended the stairs, and made their way to the drawing room.
“ . . . and I still don’t understand why you and Abigail feel it’s necessary to come with us tonight, Grandfather,” Oliver was saying as Harriet lingered in the doorway, unable to get a good look at him since his back was turned.
Archibald, wearing a formal jacket paired with an intricately tied cravat, crossed his arms over his chest. “Abigail is her chaperone, Oliver, so of course she has to go tonight. As for me, you’re tossing the poor girl to the wolves, my boy, and you’re going to need some help. Why, Miss Dixon, Everett’s dear friend, is known to be an absolute nightmare, and don’t forget, you’re also sitting down with a duke. I met the man once, granted it was years ago over in London, but I still recall he had a somewhat intimidating presence.”
“That certainly is going to calm those nerves our darling Harriet must be experiencing at the moment,” Abigail said, walking into the room. Oliver turned at her words, and the sight of him in his dark evening clothes left Harriet at a loss for words.
His black hair was combed away from his face, for once not rumpled in the least, and his eyes were twinkling at Abigail as she presented him her hand, which he immediately brought to his lips and kissed. He released his hold on Abigail, lifted his head, and then . . . his mouth dropped open and he simply stared at Harriet.
She felt heat settle over her face, but she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from Oliver, nor could she seem to find her voice.
“This is certainly an encouraging turn of events,” Abigail said smugly, her smugness breaking through the fog that had settled over Harriet.
Knowing she was blushing from the top of her head to the tips of toes encased in a lovely pair of shoes that exactly matched her dress, Harriet’s breath hitched when Oliver began heading her way. He stopped directly in front of her and took her hand, placing a kiss on it as he studied her face.
“You look exquisite this evening, but what happened to your scratch?” he asked even as he lowered her hand but, strangely enough, kept possession of it.
“Thank you,” she managed to get out of a mouth that had turned dry. “And Lucetta fixed my face for me, since she’s incredibly competent with a touch of theatrical paint.”
“I must say, my wards have turned out to be very talented indeed,” Abigail said, with a satisfied nod in Archibald’s direction. “I haven’t been so impressed with young ladies for years. It’s been an absolute delight having them come into my life. I must admit that after my Charles died, and my issues with my daughter and grandchildren remained unresolved, I do believe I took to wallowing. I spent too many days buried in this dreary home simply waiting for the end to find me.” She lifted her chin. “That changed the second these delightful young ladies entered my life and gave me a purpose.”
“She and Archibald really are including us in their mad plotting attempts,” Lucetta said, stepping into the room with Millie by her side, although by the grin on her face, it was clear she wasn’t exactly worried about the plotting. “Heed me well, Millie, if we’re not careful, we’ll find ourselves embroiled in something concerning, just like Harriet.”
“I’m not exactly certain what embroiled means, Lucetta, but I’ve misplaced my dictionary in all the hectic business of getting Harriet ready.”
Oliver released Harriet’s hand and walked over to her friends, kissing first Lucetta’s hand, then Millie’s. “I must say, Miss Longfellow, if you were responsible for Harriet’s hair, you deserve everyone’s apology for doubting your competence.”
Millie’s face turned pink. “Although I have been practicing with the hot tongs, I wasn’t allowed near Harriet’s hair.”
“Only because you burned off one side of your own hair while you were doing that practicing,” Harriet said with a shudder. “That’s why you’re wearing a cap.”
“Honestly, my darlings,” Abigail said with a wag of her finger in Harriet and Millie’s direction. “Surely you’re aware that it’s hardly proper to discuss disasters that occurred in the middle of your toilettes in the company of gentlemen.”