After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(80)
Knowing she really had no choice in the matter, and she had promised Oliver from the very beginning that she’d help him entertain his duke, she squared her shoulders. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Oliver lowered his head even as he did the same with his voice. “You’re looking a little terrified, so it might be a good idea to pull out one of those adoring looks I know you’ve been practicing, per my request, which will go far in allowing the duke to believe we’re truly attached.”
Harriet’s lips twitched. “I never got around to practicing that look again.”
Oliver grinned. “You really don’t enjoy taking orders, do you.”
Before she could respond to that bit of nonsense, he led her forward, bringing her to a stop directly in front of the tall and distinguished-looking gentleman standing by Archibald’s side.
Archibald smiled at her and then turned back to the gentleman. “Your Grace, allow me to introduce you to my grandson, Mr. Oliver Addleshaw and his lovely fiancée, Miss Harriet Peabody. This is the Duke of Westmoore.”
“How delightful, you’re engaged,” the duke said, his blue eyes twinkling as he nodded to Oliver and then stepped forward and took Harriet’s hand. He placed a dramatic kiss on it, released it and smiled. “Mr. Addleshaw is a very lucky gentleman.”
Right there and then, Harriet fell in love—not the romantic kind of love, but the adoring love one would have given to a favorite uncle or father, two things she’d never had. There was something that just seemed so normal about the duke, even though he possessed a lofty title. “Thank you,” she managed to mumble.
“You’re very welcome,” the duke replied before he nodded to Oliver. “We’ve corresponded, of course, but it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I met your grandfather years ago when he was visiting London.”
“He’s spoken quite highly of you,” Oliver said as he shook the duke’s hand and gestured Everett and Miss Dixon forward. Introductions were made and then Harriet looked up and found herself staring at a young lady with deep blue eyes who was dressed in the first state of fashion, and who was also looking Oliver over as if he were a tasty treat she longed to sample.
“This tardy lady,” the duke said fondly, “is my daughter, Lady Victoria Grenville, but I’m afraid I must extend to everyone an apology from my wife, the Duchess of Westmoore. She was forced to remain back at the hotel due to the fact she isn’t feeling well.”
Lady Victoria pulled her attention away from Oliver, although she seemed to do so rather reluctantly, before she stepped to her father’s side and smiled. “And I must apologize for being inexcusably late in greeting everyone, but the manager offered to give me a tour of Delmonico’s, and I simply couldn’t resist going up to the third floor to view the ballroom. It’s quite impressive, although I found myself wishing the season was in full force so I’d be able to dance the night away in that room.”
“You’ll have to come back during the season, then, Lady Victoria,” Oliver said with a smile. “Our famous Patriarch Balls are held here upon occasion, and they always provide wonderful opportunities for dancing.”
Lady Victoria looked Oliver up and down, and then up and down again, even as her smile widened and her lashes began to flutter. A knot began forming in Harriet’s stomach the longer the lady fluttered, but then the duke stepped forward and began performing introductions. “Darling, may I present to you—Mr. Archibald Addleshaw, Mr. Oliver Addleshaw, Mrs. Hart, Mr. Mulberry, Miss Dixon, and Mr. Oliver Addleshaw’s fiancée, Miss Harriet Peabody.”
Lady Victoria’s fluttering came to an immediate halt as her gaze traveled over Harriet, then back to Oliver, and then . . . she released a sigh.
It was the sigh that had Harriet’s stomach unknotting as dismay flowed through her. The ramifications from Archibald announcing her and Oliver’s engagement were immediate, and she opened her mouth, intent on saying what, she really had no idea, but then Archibald gestured to a server dressed in a white shirt paired with black pants, and the opportunity to speak was gone.
“We’ve prepared the best table for your party,” the server said before he began leading them through the front entrance and into the dining room, where guests immediately turned their attention to them, their stares a little disconcerting.
Wanting to get to her seat as quickly as possible, Harriet increased her stride, allowing her to overhear Lady Victoria’s furious whispers to her father.
“You never mentioned he was engaged, and . . .”
Whatever else she was whispering got lost when Oliver pulled her to a more sedate pace.
“We’re not in a race, Harriet, and I’m fairly sure the table isn’t going anywhere, although . . . I do hope you’re not too upset over the idea we’ve been given a table that’ll be in clear view of all the other patrons.”
Stopping, Harriet waved his comment away. “While I certainly find the idea of everyone watching us as we eat a little daunting, that’s not what has me upset at the moment.”
“Honestly, Miss Peabody, it’s not quite the thing to stop with no warning. You almost caused me to run straight into you,” Miss Dixon snapped before she stepped around Harriet and pulled Everett forward, almost dragging the poor man in her obvious haste to get back to the duke.