After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(86)
“I need to find Harriet,” Oliver said, seeing little use in responding to Abigail’s statement. Everything she’d said was indeed the truth, but . . . for some reason he found himself relatively unconcerned with his social status at the moment.
“She’s up in the attic, sorting through my old clothes for some peculiar reason. But, don’t linger too long up there. I’m still short a few footmen and there is some large furniture that needs to be moved around in the third-floor ballroom.”
“You want me to help move furniture?”
“How else will I be able to fit in the orchestra?”
He felt his lips twitch. “You do realize that your ball might not actually have a guest of honor, don’t you?”
“We’ll worry about that when the time comes,” Abigail said before she reached up and patted his cheek. “Now, off you go, but remember . . . third floor . . . furniture.”
“You’re incorrigible,” he returned before he sent her a grin and made his way for the door, pausing to ask a maid dusting the bannister where he could find the stairs leading up to the attic. She told him, and smiling his thanks, he took off up a narrow flight of steps, feeling perspiration dribble down his neck by the time he reached the attic. He walked into a spacious room filled to the brim with abandoned belongings, pleasure mixed with amusement flowing through him when he caught sight of Harriet.
She was sitting on the floor in the middle of the attic, bouncing up and down, which was rather strange, but then she jumped to her feet, looked at a concoction made of metal she’d been sitting on and let out an ear-piercing shriek.
“It worked, would you look at that . . . it sprang back into shape.”
“Is that your bustle?” he asked, stepping farther into the room.
“It is my bustle,” she exclaimed as she practically hopped to his side and grinned. “I made a coil and . . . it doesn’t stay collapsed now.”
Her enthusiasm was contagious, and before he actually thought about what he was doing, he moved closer to her, pulled her into a tight hug, and then lifted her off her feet. For a second it seemed as if she hugged him back, but then she stiffened, he immediately set her down, and both of them turned to Lucetta, who was making a tsking sound under her breath.
“It’s a good thing Abigail, being Harriet’s chaperone, didn’t see you doing that, Oliver.”
“She really makes an abhorrent chaperone,” Millie said, speaking up as she walked around what appeared to be an old freestanding wardrobe with a gown in her hands. She stopped walking and let out a sigh when no one said anything. “Wrong word again?”
Lucetta laughed. “Not at all, that was an excellent use of the word abhorrent, Millie. I do believe your hard work with your dictionary is finally paying off.”
Looking completely delighted, Millie moved to an old dress form that was standing off to the side and threw the gown over it, stepping back a moment later as she eyed the dress. “I don’t know, it’s rather . . .”
“Frumpy?” Oliver supplied before he walked over to stand beside Millie. “What’s that for anyway?”
“Harriet’s trying to decide what to wear to Abigail’s ball,” Lucetta explained.
“Isn’t that dress a little . . . dated, and what happened to the gowns from Arnold Constable & Company?”
Lucetta and Millie exchanged rather significant looks before they abruptly walked out of the room.
“What was that about?” he asked.
“Maybe you should take a seat,” Harriet said, moving over to what turned out to be a slightly worn chaise. She dumped a pile of gowns to the floor and gestured for him to sit down next to her.
Taking a seat, he waited while Harriet rearranged the folds of her skirt and then braced himself when she lifted her head and turned rather determined looking.
“I’ve come up with a plan to end our engagement that will allow us to part amicably, but also allow you to pursue Lady Victoria before she leaves to return home.”
Abigail had been right—Harriet had been plotting.
“I don’t recall stating that I have an interest in Lady Victoria.”
“Well, when could you have stated much of anything to me, given the fact I set a restaurant on fire and embarrassed you beyond belief?” She blew out a breath, surprising him when she took his hand in hers. “I cannot express to you enough how truly sorry I am for causing such a ruckus.”
“There’s no need to apologize, Harriet. It could have happened to anyone.”
“That’s what everyone keeps trying to tell me, but I know perfectly well that ladies of society rarely set the table linens to flames, nor do they make outlandish comments about turtle dishes that cause everyone to lose their appetite for it.”
Oliver grinned. “I must admit that the mere thought of eating your Sam did put me off terrapin for good, I think.”
Harriet patted his hand and then withdrew hers. “For that, I must apologize. Everyone seems to enjoy that particular luxury and now I’ve ruined it for you forever.”
“I’m fairly certain I’ll survive.”
“Yes, well, moving on to my idea.”
“Must we?”
Harriet frowned. “I know you’re probably concerned about my ability to plan, considering what happened last night, but I assure you, this plan I’ve come up with will not end in disaster.” She leaned toward him. “What I believe we should do is this—I’m going to dress in a rather dowdy manner, which will draw even more attention to Lady Victoria’s beauty. Then, you and I are going to get in a slight disagreement regarding my . . . bustles or perhaps my dress designing. Then, I’ll dramatically release you from our engagement, saying something to the effect that you stifle my muse and I simply cannot move forward with a gentleman who doesn’t share my vision.”