by Turano, Jen
“But it doesn’t take two people to fetch a . . . ouch . . . Did you just pinch me? Because that felt remarkably like a pinch, and . . .” Millie’s voice faded away as Lucetta hauled her into the hallway and toward the kitchen, shutting the door firmly behind them.
An odd silence settled over the cluttered room, broken only by the occasional grunts Buford was making as he stretched out on the floor and proceeded to bury his head underneath his massive paws.
Oliver sent her a grin. “I get the strangest feeling Buford feels I’m about to make a mess of things again. I might have gotten off to a rocky start, but since Lucetta has so very kindly granted me the chance to speak with you privately, I believe I’ll do better from this point forward.”
“I can’t guarantee how long Lucetta will be able to keep Millie away.”
“Then I suppose I should get right to what I need to say.”
Heart racing faster than ever, Harriet turned and moved across the gown-strewn floor, dropping into the chair she’d recently abandoned. “Perhaps you should take a seat as well.”
Glancing around, Oliver laughed. “I’m not certain that’s possible, given that every spare inch of space seems to be taken up by gowns.”
Harriet got back to her feet, shoved a mound of garments off a nearby chair, and gestured to Oliver. “That’ll have to do, but I apologize for the mess. We’ve been trying to figure out what to do with all the gowns I’ve collected over the years, but so far, we haven’t come up with a viable plan.” She shook her head. “Lucetta suggested I store them at Abigail’s for now, but that won’t really solve the problem especially since I have no plans to return to the city.”
“Speaking of returning to the city, that’s actually why I’m here.” Oliver scooted closer to her. “I’ve been doing some thinking, some soul-searching, if you will . . . and . . .”
Mouth immediately running dry, Harriet jumped to her feet. “I think I need some water too.” She leapt over Buford, who didn’t so much as twitch, made it to the kitchen door in a flash, opened it, and winced when the door connected with Lucetta’s head. “What are you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing? Eavesdropping, of course.” Lucetta straightened and rubbed her head. “So, what did he say? Because that was awfully fast.”
“He hasn’t said much of anything yet, except for admitting he wants to speak to me about returning to the city.”
Lucetta pointed a dainty finger at the door that had just walloped her in the head. “You need to get yourself right back out there and hear the man out. What were you thinking not allowing him a chance to finish what he had to say?”
“I need a glass of water.”
“No, you don’t. You need to hear what he has to say. Really, Harriet, you’re not making this easy on the poor man, and he even tried to bring you flowers.”
Harriet bit her lip. “That was somewhat romantic, wasn’t it?”
Millie sighed. “It was completely romantic, especially when he handed you that single petal. Why, my heart just about stopped beating.”
“Harriet, what are you doing in there?”
“Oh dear, he’s getting grouchy,” Lucetta said before she snatched up a pitcher filled with water, sloshed some into two cups and handed them to Harriet. “Off you go, and don’t be nervous. This is a good thing, and I’m sure whatever Oliver has to say is exactly what you need to hear.”
“I think the two of you should come with me for extra support.”
Lucetta rolled her eyes. “We’ll support you from behind the door. Now, go.”
Harriet made her way out of the kitchen—but only because Millie pushed her through the door—and moved down the small hallway and into the receiving room, water sloshing over her dress when her hands started shaking. She handed one of the glasses to Oliver and retook her seat, taking a huge gulp of water before she finally raised her head and found herself pinned under his intense gaze.
“I’m sorry I lost the flowers,” he began.
He looked so earnest that she couldn’t stop her heart from giving a resounding lurch. “It was nice of you to even think to bring them to me, and I do have a lone petal left.”
Setting his glass aside, Oliver moved closer to her. “I have some things I need to say.”
Her hands immediately turned a little clammy, which made holding the glass somewhat difficult. She leaned over and placed it on the floor, smiling when Buford ambled over and began slurping from it. She gave him a quick pat, before lifting her gaze when Oliver cleared his throat in a slightly demanding way.
“May I continue?”
Harriet lifted her chin. “Not if you’re going to keep speaking to me in that tone of voice.”
To her surprise, Oliver laughed and sent her a sheepish grin. “I’m nervous.”
Before she could think of anything to say that might calm his nerves, Oliver said, “I know we haven’t been acquainted long, and I never expected when we entered into our agreement that we’d be involved in so much intrigue, but . . . I don’t want to lose you.”
“I have to go with my family, Oliver,” she said slowly.
He beamed back at her. “I know. Which is why I’ve devised a plan.”
“Your last plan almost got poor Buford killed and was on the verge of setting society against you.”
“This is a better plan.”
A small trace of disgruntlement settled over her. Where were the words of love and tender feelings? Oliver sounded somewhat businesslike and not romantic in the least. She leaned back against the chair. “I’m listening.”
Oliver sent her one of his all-too-charming smiles. “Wonderful, but this might take a few minutes to explain, so I’m going to ask that you don’t interrupt.”
Her teeth clinked together, and it took everything she had to send him another nod and casually fold her hands in her lap.
Instead of continuing on, though, Oliver tilted his head and simply looked at her, amusement spilling from his eyes. She couldn’t say she actually appreciated that amusement, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of speaking after he’d somewhat rudely demanded she not interrupt.
Getting to his feet, Oliver began pacing back and forth, his pacing hampered by all the gowns strewn on the floor. He finally stopped and simply gazed at her, until he let out what almost sounded like a grunt. “I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll just get it over with—I’m in love with you.”
Harriet suddenly couldn’t breathe. “What did you say?”
“How could you not have heard him, Harriet,” Lucetta called. “The man’s standing right next to you and we caught what he said all the way from the kitchen. If you missed it, he was proclaiming himself in love with you, and far be it from me to give you some advice, but you probably should say something of a romantic nature back to him.”
Harriet swallowed a laugh as she watched Oliver’s eyes narrow right before he strode out of the room and toward the kitchen. The next second, she heard the kitchen door open.
“You might as well join us.”
“We wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“Now.”
A moment later, Lucetta and Millie marched into the room, followed closely by Oliver, who pointed to the chaise that was still covered in gowns. Both ladies jumped on top of the pile, and then Millie let out a snort. “I don’t know about the two of you, but I had no idea Oliver could be so diametrical.”
Silence was swift, and then Lucetta grinned. “And I have no idea, Millie, what word you should have just used, but I’m going to hazard a guess and say you might have wanted to choose dictatorial, but again, I’m not actually certain about that.”
Millie opened her mouth but then snapped it shut when Oliver cleared his throat rather menacingly. “May I continue?”
Giving a dainty flick of her wrist, Lucetta nodded. “By all means, we’re waiting with bated breath to hear what you’ll say next.”
Oliver’s lips curled ever so slightly before he sent Lucetta a
narrowing of his eyes. “Now then, since our little distractions—as in those two,” he said with a telling look to Lucetta and Millie, “have been rounded up, I have a few more things I’d like to say.” He caught Harriet’s gaze. “Because I’ve learned you’re a somewhat suspicious lady, I need to be upfront with you and explain that I’m not in love with you because you’ve turned all respectable by being the daughter of a duke, which I know you’ll think about sometime soon or maybe you’ve already considered, but . . . that isn’t the case at all. I actually wish you weren’t the long-lost daughter of a duke, because then we could just stay here in New York and settle down.” He drew in a breath. “However, since that is the case, and I completely understand you need to be around your family, at least for the foreseeable future, I’ve decided to take a less active role in my business ventures and join you in England.”
Harriet began shaking her head even before Oliver finished speaking. “I can’t let you do that. Your happiness is directly connected with your business, and I won’t be responsible for ending that happiness.”
“While it is true that I did find a great deal of happiness—or what I believed to be happiness—in my business endeavors, the key word here is did.” Oliver sent her a crooked grin. “I’ve recently discovered that you are my happiness, and the only way that happiness will end is if you refuse to stay with me.”
“Oh, that was a good one,” Lucetta sighed before she pressed her lips together when Oliver threw her a scowl.
Harriet sucked in a breath and then had to suck in another when she began to feel a little light-headed. “I don’t understand how this happened. Our agreement never had us staying together.”
Smiling somewhat tenderly, Oliver nodded. “I’m not exactly sure how this happened either, but I’ve already spoken with your father, and he’s given me his blessing, as has your mother, if you’re agreeable to what I’m about to offer.”
“Of course she’ll be agreeable,” Lucetta said before Harriet could get a single word out of her mouth.
“And if I could just make the tiniest suggestion, Oliver,” Millie added, “I do believe this is the point where you should get down on one knee.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Oliver said between gritted teeth as he tossed a glare to Millie before he was suddenly kneeling in front of Harriet, taking her hand in his. He pressed it to his lips and then, with his other hand, reached into his pocket and pulled out Abigail’s ring. “She insisted I bring this with me and wanted me to tell you that you’re the granddaughter she always wanted, which is why she thought this ring would truly make the perfect engagement ring for you.” He leaned closer. “Miss Harriet Peabody, or rather Lady Harriet, as you are now formally known, would you do me the supreme honor of becoming my wife?”
She looked at him for a long moment. “No.”
Lucetta and Millie began to sputter even as a look of shock entered Oliver’s eyes. “You won’t marry me?”
Harriet squeezed the hand that still clasped hers and felt a little giddy as she looked into the eyes of the gentleman she knew without a doubt she would love forever. “I won’t agree to marry you unless you agree to remain living in New York.”
“But . . . what about your family, and what about taking up your expected role as an aristocrat?”
“I’ll never think of myself as an aristocrat, Oliver, no matter that my family bears a title. I’m simply Harriet, and I do believe my parents and sister would be fine with the idea of us visiting them for a few months every year.” She smiled. “I also won’t marry you unless you agree to continue on with your business—although not to the extent you’ve been doing in the past—and . . . I’d still like to open up my shop someday.”
The smallest hint of a smile creased Oliver’s lips. “Very well, I can agree to those terms, but you need to agree to some of mine.”
“You might want to stop while you’re ahead,” Lucetta muttered, as Millie began nodding rather vigorously.
Harriet swallowed a laugh and looked back to Oliver. “What are your terms?”
“Well, for one, I’d like to help you produce and market that amazing bustle of yours.”
Tapping her finger on her chin, Harriet tilted her head. “I could live with that, but you’ll have to agree not to be bossy about it.”
“Bossiness is part of my charm.”
“And what else?” Harriet asked as she tried to keep from grinning.
“I’d like you to help me start up a charitable organization, one that will allow me to use my considerable funds to help the poor living in the tenement slums.”
Tears blinded her for a second. “I could do that.”
“I know you can, and . . . I think you should allow Abigail to help your mother plan our wedding—if you agree to marry me, that is.”
“Of course she must help, but . . . where would we get married?”
“Good question,” Millie said before she snapped her mouth shut when Oliver glanced her way.
Oliver returned his attention to Harriet. “Well, your parents are firmly entrenched within British society, and they’ve only recently found you, which means they’re going to want to see the marriage take place in England, but . . . would you be comfortable getting married over there or would you prefer to have it done here in the States so that Reverend Gilmore could officiate at it?”
Lucetta raised her hand. “I do so hate to interrupt, but why don’t you have two weddings? That way no one will be left out, such as me or Millie, since we might have a hard time making it over to England.” She smiled. “The theater doesn’t really like it when one of their main actresses takes off in the middle of a production.”
Smiling, Harriet nodded. “That’s a fabulous idea, Lucetta, and would make it so much easier on everyone here in the States, but . . . that might take quite a few months to plan, and I’m not certain . . .”
“You want to wait that long?” Oliver finished for her.
Heat flooded her face, but she was spared a response when Oliver, who’d been kneeling this entire time, got to his feet and squeezed the hand he was still holding. “While I would love nothing more than to marry you immediately, I think taking some time to get a wedding or two pulled together is a wonderful plan. It’ll allow us the chance to really get to know each other. It will also allow you to get to know your family without all the pesky distractions of being a new wife. And I know my mother and father would be most put out if we got married while they were still over in India.” He smiled. “My mother is going to adore you, as is my father.”
She wrinkled her nose. “How do you know that?”
“Because my grandfather adores you, and he’s a very good judge of character. I would have to imagine, if you accept my proposal—and this proposal being a real one this time—he’ll send a telegram off to my parents immediately, telling them of my good fortune.”
Happiness threatened to bubble out of her every pore. “It’s so odd to think that I’m soon going to have more family surrounding me than I ever imagined.”
“So you’ll marry me?”
Finding it next to impossible to speak around the lump that clogged her throat, Harriet managed a nod.
Satisfaction settled in Oliver’s eyes before they suddenly darkened, even as he squeezed her hand once again. “You have made me an incredibly happy gentleman, but I must ask you one more thing. . . . Do you think that, perhaps, you might hold me in a bit of affection? I certainly don’t expect you to proclaim an undying love at this point, since we aren’t well acquainted with each other, but I do hope that you have some type of tender feelings for me.”
Tears stung her eyes again and blurred her vision. “Good heavens, Oliver, I do beg your pardon. Here I’ve been so diligent with my demands that I never even thought to tell you about my feelings.”
She drew in a deep breath and released it in a rush. “I hold you in very deep affection, and even though, as you stated, we haven’t known each other long, I must admit that I’ve fallen qu
ite a bit in love with you, and—”
Before she could finish speaking, she suddenly found herself firmly held in Oliver’s arms. He bent toward her, but just as his lips were about to claim hers, he stilled, lifted his head, and settled his attention on Lucetta and Millie, who were both watching them with their mouths gaping open. “Ladies, I think it might be for the best if you went back to the kitchen.”
“But it was just getting good,” Millie complained.
“The last thing I need is for the two of you to call out suggestions while I kiss my true fiancée for the first time.”
“Maybe you need suggestions,” Lucetta pointed out before she laughed when Oliver arched a brow her way. She grabbed Millie’s hand, and they made a hasty retreat, their snorts of laughter drifting through the now closed kitchen door.
Anticipation shot through her when Oliver settled his full attention on her once again. He lifted both of his hands, cradled her face, and then drew near, his lips pressing against hers. She clutched the lapels of his finely made jacket and pulled him closer as tingles shot up her spine.
Buford’s howl caused them to break apart, but Oliver kept his arm around her as he looked at his dog. “What in the world is the matter with you?”
Lumbering slowly to his feet, Buford took a moment to stretch, apparently oblivious to the fact he’d interrupted a special moment. He released a yawn and then moved to the door, lifting a paw to scratch at it. When Oliver made no move for the door, Buford let out a yip and scratched it again.
Releasing a sigh, Oliver reluctantly stepped away from her. “I think he needs to go outside, but he has miserable timing. Perhaps, though, since this is his idea, he won’t be so hesitant to move down the steps.” Walking over to the door, Oliver opened it but then froze. “I almost forgot something.” He looked back at Harriet. “You should come outside with me, but you’ll need to close your eyes.”
“You’re not going to try and lead me down the steps with my eyes closed, are you?” Harriet asked as she went to join Oliver. “Because, though I’m not remotely in the mood to argue with you, those steps are tricky at the best of times, and Buford might need some assistance as well, and . . .”
