“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.”
“I'm waiting with bated breath to hear what you'll say next." "Ah, sarcasm, how refreshing," he said pleasantly.”
“I always forget to breathe when I get nervous."
"I suppose you should be thankful then that you don't appear to be the type to get nervous often.”
“I've always been of the belief that gentlemen need to earn respect.”
“I'm twenty-two."
"Are you really? I thought you were closer to my age, and I'm thirty-one, which goes..."
The next thing Oliver knew, he was standing by himself, Harriet having shaken out of his hold and taken off down the sidewalk again.”
“Kind is my middle name."
"I don't think I'd go that far.”
“She stalked down the short hallway, reached the door, pushed aside the bolt that secured it, twisted the lock, and then wrenched it open, her temper steadily rising when she looked at Oliver and found him smiling back at her, although his eyes held a distinct trace of temper.
"What?"
"Is that anyway to greet your fiance?”
“You're glowering again," Abigail whispered, stepping to his side and giving him a sharp rap with the fan she was clutching.
"Can you blame me?"
Abigail shot a look to Harriet who was having her hand accosted by an earnest young gentleman by the name of Mr. Richmond Sprout. "Not int he least, dear, but you really should try to control that temper of yours. The last thing we need this evening is for you to punch someone."
"That thought never entered my head."
"Of course it did, but I find it rather sweet.”
“The elderly gentleman somehow managed to look down his nose at her,even though they were of a similar height.
"From what I just witnessed, you were about to assault Mr. Addleshaw."
"Just because I was thinking about it, doesn't mean I was planning on seeing it through to fruition."
"A lady should never contemplate slapping a gentleman, especially not one of Mr. Addleshaw's social standing."
"I wasn't thinking about slapping him," Harriet muttered. "He deserved much more than a simple slap for being under the misguided belief that, simply because he has deep pockets, everyone should cater to his ridiculous whims.”
“It was now Oliver's staunch belief that ladies - more specifically, Miss Harriet Peabody - had been put on the earth in order to create havoc with his well-organized life.”
“Forgive me, Mr. Addleshaw, but I don't think Miss Peabody is exactly keen about going to Arnold Constable & Company."
"Why would you say that?"
"She's dashing away in the opposite direction."
Oliver turned, and sure enough, Harriet was quickly disappearing into the crowd, her huge hat once again bobbing in the breeze.”
“Pulling his attention away from the bottom lip he still found fascinating, Oliver felt his lips twitch. "You really were in a circus?"
"With everything I've just disclosed to you, you're most interested in the idea I was once in a circus?”
“May I have a glass of water? For some reason, my throat suddenly feels incredibly parched."
Harriet nodded but before she could take so much as a single step toward the kitchen, Lucetta brushed past her.
"I'll get it." She grabbed Millie's hand and began tugging her out of the room. "You can help."
"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.”
“You think I'm a snob."
"You are a snob.”
“Seeing absolutely no point in arguing further with the man, Harriet tried her hand at releasing a sniff, just like Mrs. Birmingham had done numerous times during their ridiculous exchange. To her acute embarrassment, though, it turned out that sniffing was not actually advisable when it was pouring down rain, because water tended to immediately be sucked up one's nose. She sneezed, snorted, sneezed again, and finally managed a halfhearted wave in his direction. "Continue if you please.”
“See, I did finally practice that adoring look you demanded, and I'm now going to suggest you try your hand at looking adoringly back at me," she muttered out of the side of her mouth even as she kept her smile firmly in place. "The guests will get suspicious if I'm the only one doing the whole adoring business."
His lips curved into a returning smile. She was so beautiful and so different from anyone he'd ever known that he decided there and then that, although this was to be the last night they were together, he was going to make the most out of it.”
“It's hardly Mr. Clay's fault that you're an idiot.”
“I found unconventional and it exactly explains your upbringing." Millie's lips curved into a grin. "Unconstitutional doesn't explain you at all, unless you've been participating in something that goes against our country's constitution.”
“I don't have a desire to find myself in jail, but if I'm forced to continue spending time with you... I fear I might be compelled to do something to you that will certainly land me there.”
“She’s remarkably refined.” “You told me she slung Miss Birmingham over her shoulder and tossed her into a carriage.”
“Would it make you feel better if I got down on bended knee and asked you to be my pretend fiancée?”
“Forgive me for bringing this up, but paid companions are normally hired by ladies in their dotage, something I’m clearly not.” “True, but it’s the same principle. You’ve hired me to be a companion, even if not exactly in the same role as most paid companions take on. Now, however, with your declaration that I’m your fiancée, you are asking me to live a lie, plain and simple, because we’re not engaged.” Oliver tilted his head. “Would it make you feel better if I got down on bended knee and asked you to be my pretend fiancée?”
“I must say, all these compliments you keep sending my way are bound to go to my head soon. Why, I don't recall the last time I was deemed peculiar and suspicious all in the same day.”
“If you must know, yesterday was my birthday.” “You neglected to tell me yesterday was your birthday.” “There was much that was neglected to be said, given Mr. Birmingham’s untimely appearance.” “Good point, but we have time to discuss matters now. May I inquire as to what birthday you celebrated?” “It’s hardly proper to ask a lady her age.” “Normally I would agree with you, but since you’re going to be seen on my arm, it’s most likely a question others are going to ask. It might bring up unwelcome speculation if I can’t answer properly.” “I’m twenty-two.” “Are you really? I thought you were closer to my age, and I’m thirty-one, which just goes . . .” The next thing Oliver knew, he was standing by himself, Harriet having shaken out of his hold and taken off down the sidewalk again.”
“Biting her lip, Harriet looked at Oliver. “Are you certain you really want to go through with this, because there’ll be no turning back in the midst of dinner . . . and . . . am I supposed to curtsy when I’m introduced to the duke?” Instead of answering her, Oliver was staring at her lips, his staring having the immediate effect of additional heat traveling up her neck to settle once again on her cheeks. “Do I have something on my face?” she finally asked when he continued staring. Blinking, Oliver seemed to shake himself before he smiled. “Forgive me, I was . . . What was the question again?”
“Is something the matter?” she finally asked. Oliver frowned. “Why would you ask that?” “You’re not speaking, and it’s been my experience that you’re never at a loss for something to say.” Laughing, Oliver took one step forward. “If you must know, the only thing the matter at the moment is that you look enchanting this evening, quite like a princess, and your beauty is what stole the words straight from my lips and fogged up my mind.” Harriet suddenly found she was at a loss for words. Oliver grinned and moved across the room, stopping directly in front of her. He drew her hand up and placed a kiss on the knuckles, his gaze and the merest touch of his lips against her gloved hand sending shivers down her spine. “Is something wrong, Miss Peabody?” he asked and continued before she could reply, not that she was certain she would actually have been able to do that. “Why, since I’ve become known to you, it’s been my observation that you’re never without words, and yet, here you are . . . speechless.”
“It hit him then, how little he really knew about the lady standing beside him. But . . . he wanted to know more . . . everything about her—not just how she came to know how to dance but what she thought about every second of the day. Who’d taught her how to sew, and how was she able to imagine and assemble a bustle that could collapse and then recover? And . . . did she regret not ever being able to perform on a wire because her aunt had hustled her out of the circus? Unfortunately, the reality was that he wasn’t going to get to learn more about her. Their time was almost over, and that realization caused something that felt remarkably like regret to settle deep in his soul.”
“See, I did finally practice that adoring look you demanded, and I’m now going to suggest you try your hand at looking adoringly back at me,” she muttered out of the side of her mouth even as she kept her smile firmly in place. “The guests will get suspicious if I’m the only one doing the whole adoring business.”
“The sound of pounding started again. “He’s not going to just go away,” Millie yelled. “Besides, we still have his dog.” “Oh, very well, I’ll deal with him,” Harriet said, struggling to her feet and heading out of the kitchen. She stalked down the short hallway, reached the door, pushed aside the bolt that secured it, twisted the lock, and then wrenched it open, her temper steadily rising when she looked at Oliver and found him smiling back at her, although his eyes held a distinct trace of temper. “What?” “Is that any way to greet your fiancé?” “You’re not my fiancé, you’ve only ever been my pretend fiancé, or maybe temporary fiancé would be a better way to put it. But since I’ve decided I can’t be trusted not to harm you if I have to spend any additional time in your company, you need to go away and leave me alone.” “Don’t you think you’re being a little overly dramatic? I mean—” Not allowing the annoying man to finish his sentence, Harriet shut the door in his face, locked it, brushed her hands together, turned, and pretended not to hear his demands for her to open up as she headed back toward the kitchen.”
“I close my eyes and listen to the ocean.
I'm thinking about sailing, to England or maybe France. The way the wind would feel on my face and the sound of his voice screaming my name through his laughter. The waves would crash like applause. God, I remember when I used to be afraid of the ocean.”
“One minute we were a memory in the making, and in the next we were just a memory. Something to haunt me for the rest of my life.”
“the end of a couple is like a death, and the notion of death, of temporariness, can remind us of the value of things,”
“sounds. Must be the sea. Might even come”
“Her world had shrunk - no matter who she was with, she'd prefer to be with him. That's what happened when you fell in love - you only want to see them.”
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