After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(82)
Harriet looked away from Miss Dixon, noticed that the duke was still watching her, and decided there and then that she wasn’t going to spend the evening pretending to care for things she didn’t like in the least. “Wine is not my favorite choice of beverage, Your Grace. If you must know, I really prefer milk, or tea or . . . Apollinaris water.” She shot a glance to Abigail, and since Abigail was beaming back at her, she released a silent sigh of relief that she’d remembered the name of the mineral water that was apparently becoming all the rage within society.
The duke’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I always enjoy a cold glass of milk as well, Miss Peabody, although Apollinaris water certainly does quench a thirst.” He snapped his fingers, a server immediately appeared by his side, and to Harriet’s amazement, not only did he order her a milk, but himself one as well.
He was a true gentleman, something she’d rarely seen in her life.
She looked to Lady Victoria and found the young lady smiling at her father and couldn’t quite hold back the wistfulness that settled into her very soul.
What would it have been like to have grown up with a father such as the duke—a gentleman who was kind and clearly adored his daughter, and a man who went out of his way to ease a young lady’s discomfort?
Abigail leaned forward. “I don’t know if Archibald has mentioned this to you or not, Your Grace, but he and I have been planning a dinner party for you and your family to welcome you to our fair city. We’re going to hold it at my home, which I hope you’ll find to your satisfaction.”
The duke frowned. “I must beg your pardon, Mrs. Hart, because while I was intending to spend a few weeks here in the city, my plans have changed, given that we’ve been invited to a wedding being held in Scotland. It’s a distant relation, but it would be unacceptable to miss it. I fear we’ll be leaving New York in only a few days—after Mr. Oliver Addleshaw and I have an opportunity to discuss and, hopefully, close our business deal.”
“But Father,” Lady Victoria said, “surely we could stay just a little longer, can’t we? We’ve been traveling around the world for months, and I do so miss sitting down with civilized people in order to enjoy a good meal.”
“You’re sitting down to enjoy a meal right now, and with very civilized people,” the duke pointed out.
Lady Victoria’s eyes narrowed, but before she could speak, Abigail cleared her throat.
“If Lady Victoria is truly desirous of a dinner party, Your Grace, then I’m only too happy to accommodate her.” She tapped her finger against her chin. “I should be able to work out all the particulars and host it . . . two days from now?”
“I would not want to cause you such a great amount of work, Mrs. Hart, and since the duchess is currently battling a bad cold, I’m not certain she’d even be up for attending,” the duke said.
“Mother will be fine staying at the hotel if she’s still feeling under the weather,” Lady Victoria said, earning a frown from her father, which she blatantly ignored as she looked to Oliver and sent him a lovely smile.
The duke frowned at his daughter, but then cleared his throat and nodded to Abigail. “My family and I would be honored if you would host a dinner for us, Mrs. Hart, but again, I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated to do so, especially since it’s incredibly short notice.”
“It would be no obligation at all,” Abigail said as her gaze traveled from Lady Victoria, to Oliver, to Harriet, and then back to Lady Victoria again, who suddenly sat forward, pulled her attention from Oliver, and then set her sights directly on Harriet.
“Tell me, Miss Peabody, however did you meet Mr. Addleshaw, and how long have you been engaged?”
All conversation stopped at the table as everyone swung their attention Harriet’s way. Taking a deep breath, she realized this was her opportunity to allow Lady Victoria to know that she and Oliver weren’t truly engaged, and hopefully that would open the way for Oliver to pursue a woman who was perfect for him. “Mr. Addleshaw and I aren’t . . .”
“Comfortable sharing how we met,” Oliver interrupted, ignoring the kick she sent him under the table. He smiled one of his most charming of smiles at Lady Victoria. “I fear I made something of a spectacle of myself, trying to attract Miss Peabody’s attention, and because of that, I’ve made her promise not to tell anyone the tale, and . . . Oh, here comes our first course. What a perfectly timed distraction.”
Any further attempt on Harriet’s part to argue was put on hold when she suddenly found herself staring at a plate that sported not oysters but a dish Harriet could not identify, much less know what fork to use on it.
“Do you not care for terrapin either?” Miss Dixon suddenly asked.
Since Harriet had not the slightest idea what terrapin was, she settled for an “Ah . . . ?”
“Turtle,” Oliver whispered.
“I once found a turtle when I was little and brought it home with me. I even went so far as to name him Sam,” she said weakly, as her stomach turned queasy. “My aunt made me release him back into the wild a few days later, but I never thought I’d be eating him someday.”
The duke set down his fork and gestured to the server. “Miss Peabody and I would prefer a different option, perhaps a soup?”
“Or maybe just some oysters,” Harriet suggested since she knew what fork to use for that.