decision to hire her was that she turned you down at first.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Oliver, I’ve known you since we were children. You’re competitive. You were shocked when Miss Peabody turned down your first proposal. That is what had you throwing caution to the wind and increasing the amount of your offer.” Everett shook his head. “Why, I can’t help but wonder what you’d have done if she’d turned down the three thousand dollars. Proposed to her, perhaps?”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous. I may have no hesitation about bringing Harriet on to work for me, but I know perfectly well she’s not remotely acceptable as a candidate for the future Mrs. Addleshaw.”
Everett narrowed his eyes. “Society will make that assumption once she’s seen by your side.”
“No they won’t. Society, it is my belief, has moved forward regarding such matters, given that it’s the eighteen hundreds, not the Dark Ages. Just because a lady is seen on a gentleman’s arm does not mean a wedding is imminent.”
“I don’t think we’ve progressed as far as you believe,” Everett countered. “Tell me, though, what’s to happen to this Miss Peabody after your association ends?”
“I assume she’ll take the money she earns from me and go about doing whatever it is hat girls do when they come into possession of unexpected funds.”
Everett shifted in his seat. “Out of curiosity, what exactly do you expect Miss Peabody to do in order to earn three thousand dollars?”
“Her most important responsibility will be to charm the duke.”
“And you honestly believe that a hat girl will be capable of that daunting task?”
“She charmed me, and—”
“She charmed you?” Everett interrupted, looking more shocked than ever. “Good heavens, Oliver. This truly is madness, then. You’re attracted to the woman, and you mark my words—disaster is right around the corner if you go through with this.”
Oliver felt an unaccustomed rush of heat travel up his neck. “I’m not attracted to her. Well, she is lovely, but . . . what I meant to say is that she has an air about her that I’m sure the duke will find charming, and . . .” He lapsed into silence when Everett began muttering dire predictions under his breath. To Oliver’s relief, he was spared further embarrassment when a quiet knock sounded on the door before it opened and a member of the Astor House staff stepped into the room.
“Begging your pardon, gentlemen, but Mr. Ruff is waiting outside to speak with you, Mr. Addleshaw. Shall I send him in?”
For a second, Oliver thought about saying no. Silas Ruff was one of his business associates, brought into Oliver’s employ after Oliver invested in the man’s ore mining venture. Silas had been exactly what Oliver needed—a ruthless, ambitious man who had no qualms about getting things done, no matter what means it took to turn a profit. Silas had been with Oliver for four years, and while his temperamental personality sometimes grated on Oliver’s nerves, he kept Silas on because profitability had never been better.
However, Silas’s habit of tracking Oliver down whenever he wanted to speak to him was beginning to become a problem. The fact they’d had plans to meet that morning, but Silas hadn’t shown, made it all the more annoying.
“Since it appears Mr. Ruff knows I’m here, you might as well bring him in,” Oliver finally said.
With a nod, the man withdrew from the room. A moment later, Silas strode through the doorway with the Astor House employee following a step behind him.
“Get me a whiskey, neat,” Silas threw at the man. “And something to eat, a steak, I think, bloody, and make it quick. I’m starving.”
It was a mark of how well Astor House trained their staff that the man Silas had just barked at didn’t even flinch. “Very good, sir,” he said before turning to Oliver and Everett. “May I bring you fresh drinks?”
Oliver
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Oliver, I’ve known you since we were children. You’re competitive. You were shocked when Miss Peabody turned down your first proposal. That is what had you throwing caution to the wind and increasing the amount of your offer.” Everett shook his head. “Why, I can’t help but wonder what you’d have done if she’d turned down the three thousand dollars. Proposed to her, perhaps?”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous. I may have no hesitation about bringing Harriet on to work for me, but I know perfectly well she’s not remotely acceptable as a candidate for the future Mrs. Addleshaw.”
Everett narrowed his eyes. “Society will make that assumption once she’s seen by your side.”
“No they won’t. Society, it is my belief, has moved forward regarding such matters, given that it’s the eighteen hundreds, not the Dark Ages. Just because a lady is seen on a gentleman’s arm does not mean a wedding is imminent.”
“I don’t think we’ve progressed as far as you believe,” Everett countered. “Tell me, though, what’s to happen to this Miss Peabody after your association ends?”
“I assume she’ll take the money she earns from me and go about doing whatever it is hat girls do when they come into possession of unexpected funds.”
Everett shifted in his seat. “Out of curiosity, what exactly do you expect Miss Peabody to do in order to earn three thousand dollars?”
“Her most important responsibility will be to charm the duke.”
“And you honestly believe that a hat girl will be capable of that daunting task?”
“She charmed me, and—”
“She charmed you?” Everett interrupted, looking more shocked than ever. “Good heavens, Oliver. This truly is madness, then. You’re attracted to the woman, and you mark my words—disaster is right around the corner if you go through with this.”
Oliver felt an unaccustomed rush of heat travel up his neck. “I’m not attracted to her. Well, she is lovely, but . . . what I meant to say is that she has an air about her that I’m sure the duke will find charming, and . . .” He lapsed into silence when Everett began muttering dire predictions under his breath. To Oliver’s relief, he was spared further embarrassment when a quiet knock sounded on the door before it opened and a member of the Astor House staff stepped into the room.
“Begging your pardon, gentlemen, but Mr. Ruff is waiting outside to speak with you, Mr. Addleshaw. Shall I send him in?”
For a second, Oliver thought about saying no. Silas Ruff was one of his business associates, brought into Oliver’s employ after Oliver invested in the man’s ore mining venture. Silas had been exactly what Oliver needed—a ruthless, ambitious man who had no qualms about getting things done, no matter what means it took to turn a profit. Silas had been with Oliver for four years, and while his temperamental personality sometimes grated on Oliver’s nerves, he kept Silas on because profitability had never been better.
However, Silas’s habit of tracking Oliver down whenever he wanted to speak to him was beginning to become a problem. The fact they’d had plans to meet that morning, but Silas hadn’t shown, made it all the more annoying.
“Since it appears Mr. Ruff knows I’m here, you might as well bring him in,” Oliver finally said.
With a nod, the man withdrew from the room. A moment later, Silas strode through the doorway with the Astor House employee following a step behind him.
“Get me a whiskey, neat,” Silas threw at the man. “And something to eat, a steak, I think, bloody, and make it quick. I’m starving.”
It was a mark of how well Astor House trained their staff that the man Silas had just barked at didn’t even flinch. “Very good, sir,” he said before turning to Oliver and Everett. “May I bring you fresh drinks?”
Oliver
Similar Books
