insanity, allow me to point out that your reputation could suffer irreparable harm. Besides that, society is not kind to outsiders, which you clearly will be seen as, and—”
“She’ll be fine,” Mr. Addleshaw interrupted right as a heavyset lady wearing a cap hurried up to join them. “Mrs. Rollins, you shouldn’t be out in this storm.”
“Neither should any of you,” Mrs. Rollins returned as she splashed through a deep puddle and came to stop. She leaned forward and peered at Harriet. “Oh dear. You’re the hat lady, aren’t you.”
Harriet frowned. “Why do I get the distinct feeling I’m about to hear something of an unpleasant nature?”
“Probably because what I’m about to tell you cannot, in any way, shape, or form, be considered pleasant.” Mrs. Rollins stepped closer to Harriet. “I’m Mrs. Rollins, dear, the housekeeper, and unfortunately, when Mr. Birmingham moved to Mr.Addleshaw’s office, he immediately took note of all the gowns his daughter left behind. In an attempt to explain why those gowns were left behind, I brought to his attention the . . . ah . . . altercation his daughter had been involved with. I fear I might have mentioned something about her pummeling a poor girl who was just trying to deliver some hats.”
“And he didn’t react well to that information?” Harriet asked slowly.
Mrs. Rollins drew herself up. “Indeed he did not. Instead of coming to the conclusion I’d hoped he’d come to—that his daughter had behaved badly—he immediately demanded to know your name—not that I had that information available to give him—and I’m afraid he’s considering pressing charges against you.”
The sound of yelling suddenly reached them from what seemed to be inside Mr. Addleshaw’s house. Harriet flinched when Mr. Addleshaw’s jaw clenched. His eyes turned cold and his posture stiffened, that stiffening causing the seam that had been pulling apart on his sleeve to lose that particular battle. Although Harriet found it impossible to look away from his rapidly deteriorating clothing, he didn’t seem to notice.
“Mr. Blodgett, please go and try to calm Mr. Birmingham while I escort Miss Peabody to the stables.” Mr. Addleshaw nodded to Mrs. Rollins. “I need you to go retrieve the small blue bag I keep in the lower left-hand drawer of my desk and then bring it to me. I have to get Miss Peabody into a carriage and on her way before Mr. Birmingham catches a glimpse of her and realizes she’s the hat girl in question.”
“But what about our discussion regarding what’s expected of me?” Harriet asked.
“We’ll have to have that at a later date.”
Not giving her a chance to protest, Mr. Addleshaw dragged her down the sidewalk and around his house, prodding herquickly over the courtyard and into an impressive-looking building that turned out to be the stables. Calling for a groom to ready a carriage, Mr. Addleshaw looked back at Harriet and frowned. “I don’t know your given name.”
“Which is somewhat strange, considering you’ve brought me on as an employee.”
“True, but you must admit, we’ve been under somewhat extenuating circumstances.”
Harriet smiled. “My name is Harriet.”
“Do your friends call you Harry?”
“Not if they want to remain my friends.”
“Harriet it is, then, and since we have to convince everyone we’re . . . attached, you must call me Oliver.”
She tilted her head. “Do your friends call you Ollie?”
“Not if they want to remain my friends.”
Harriet grinned and saw that Oliver was grinning back at her. Her heart, for some odd reason, began hammering in her chest, and she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from his. His grin faded and his eyes clouded with what appeared to be confusion, but the moment was broken when Mrs. Rollins came bustling into the stable, dripping wet and holding a blue bag that appeared to be made of velvet.
“The situation is taking a nasty turn inside,” she
“She’ll be fine,” Mr. Addleshaw interrupted right as a heavyset lady wearing a cap hurried up to join them. “Mrs. Rollins, you shouldn’t be out in this storm.”
“Neither should any of you,” Mrs. Rollins returned as she splashed through a deep puddle and came to stop. She leaned forward and peered at Harriet. “Oh dear. You’re the hat lady, aren’t you.”
Harriet frowned. “Why do I get the distinct feeling I’m about to hear something of an unpleasant nature?”
“Probably because what I’m about to tell you cannot, in any way, shape, or form, be considered pleasant.” Mrs. Rollins stepped closer to Harriet. “I’m Mrs. Rollins, dear, the housekeeper, and unfortunately, when Mr. Birmingham moved to Mr.Addleshaw’s office, he immediately took note of all the gowns his daughter left behind. In an attempt to explain why those gowns were left behind, I brought to his attention the . . . ah . . . altercation his daughter had been involved with. I fear I might have mentioned something about her pummeling a poor girl who was just trying to deliver some hats.”
“And he didn’t react well to that information?” Harriet asked slowly.
Mrs. Rollins drew herself up. “Indeed he did not. Instead of coming to the conclusion I’d hoped he’d come to—that his daughter had behaved badly—he immediately demanded to know your name—not that I had that information available to give him—and I’m afraid he’s considering pressing charges against you.”
The sound of yelling suddenly reached them from what seemed to be inside Mr. Addleshaw’s house. Harriet flinched when Mr. Addleshaw’s jaw clenched. His eyes turned cold and his posture stiffened, that stiffening causing the seam that had been pulling apart on his sleeve to lose that particular battle. Although Harriet found it impossible to look away from his rapidly deteriorating clothing, he didn’t seem to notice.
“Mr. Blodgett, please go and try to calm Mr. Birmingham while I escort Miss Peabody to the stables.” Mr. Addleshaw nodded to Mrs. Rollins. “I need you to go retrieve the small blue bag I keep in the lower left-hand drawer of my desk and then bring it to me. I have to get Miss Peabody into a carriage and on her way before Mr. Birmingham catches a glimpse of her and realizes she’s the hat girl in question.”
“But what about our discussion regarding what’s expected of me?” Harriet asked.
“We’ll have to have that at a later date.”
Not giving her a chance to protest, Mr. Addleshaw dragged her down the sidewalk and around his house, prodding herquickly over the courtyard and into an impressive-looking building that turned out to be the stables. Calling for a groom to ready a carriage, Mr. Addleshaw looked back at Harriet and frowned. “I don’t know your given name.”
“Which is somewhat strange, considering you’ve brought me on as an employee.”
“True, but you must admit, we’ve been under somewhat extenuating circumstances.”
Harriet smiled. “My name is Harriet.”
“Do your friends call you Harry?”
“Not if they want to remain my friends.”
“Harriet it is, then, and since we have to convince everyone we’re . . . attached, you must call me Oliver.”
She tilted her head. “Do your friends call you Ollie?”
“Not if they want to remain my friends.”
Harriet grinned and saw that Oliver was grinning back at her. Her heart, for some odd reason, began hammering in her chest, and she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from his. His grin faded and his eyes clouded with what appeared to be confusion, but the moment was broken when Mrs. Rollins came bustling into the stable, dripping wet and holding a blue bag that appeared to be made of velvet.
“The situation is taking a nasty turn inside,” she
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