Chapter 5

Despite expecting to see Mr. Evans the following day when she returned to work, Harriet managed to avoid him by choosing to arrive through the back entrance. And since Oliver was happy to fetch the title block they needed from Mr. Hudson, she had no reason to enter the front office where Mr. Evans would likely be found.

Still, she remained forever conscious of his presence in the building, constantly on alert and freezing up slightly whenever the door to the print room opened.

“Is everything all right?” Oliver asked when they closed for the day. “You’ve been looking over your shoulder a lot today, like you keep expecting someone to sneak up on you.”

“It’s nothing.” She grabbed her things and followed him to the door, exiting after James and Matthew. “Felt a bit drafty, that’s all.”

“Hmm…” Oliver frowned but didn’t address the issue further, choosing instead to say, “I met the new assistant editor when I went to collect the title block. Pleasant fellow. Have you seen him yet?”

Harriet closed the door and locked it with the key Mr. Hudson had given her when he’d increased her pay a couple of months ago. She turned to face her three colleagues. “He came to the print room yesterday after you’d left. Knocked the door straight into me.”

“And?” Oliver asked. “What was your impression?”

“Besides being clumsy?” Harriet shrugged, doing her best to feign indifference. “I suppose I’d consider him to be polite. He apologized numerous times for the blunder. Besides that, I really can’t say.”

“Why are we even discussing him?” James inquired. “It’s not like we’ll be working with him.”

“Exactly,” said Matthew. He lit a cheroot, took a long drag and offered it to Harriet, who turned down the offer. Matthew passed it to James instead. “The editors don’t associate with us lot. Different class of people, aren’t they?”

“Not vastly so,” Oliver argued. “I pretty much do the same as them, sitting about and reading all day.”

“The rest of us don’t.” Matthew took the cheroot from James and set it to his lips for a slow inhale. A cloud of smoke was exhaled moments later. “We supply the muscle, which makes us no different than laborers. Not that I’m complaining. I prefer being physically active, and Mr. Hudson’s a good employer.”

“But we don’t mingle. Do we, Harry?”

Harriet met James’s gaze. “No.”

“Fine by me,” Oliver said. He slung the strap from the satchel he carried to work every day across his shoulder. “Mind if I walk with you, Harry? I’m heading to my sister’s and if memory serves, she doesn’t live far from you.”

“All right,” Harriet said, appreciating the company. They parted ways with James and Matthew, who were headed in the opposite direction, and proceeded toward Piccadilly.

“I didn’t want to ask while the others were around,” Oliver said after several moments of silence, “but I was wondering if you might want to grab a drink with me one evening.”

“Just the two of us?” Harriet asked, to be perfectly clear.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know if you realize, but I consider you to be my best mate. Thought it might be fun to spend some more time together. Outside of work.”

“Oh.” She dodged a couple of men who were coming in the opposite direction. As soon as she’d passed them and Oliver had fallen into step beside her once more, she told him, “I’m afraid it might be difficult for me to do so. As you know, I’ve got Lucy to tend to.”

“My sister has already said she’d be happy to watch her for you. And it doesn’t have to be more than a couple of hours.”

His eagerness and the fact that he’d already started planning for it put Harriet on edge. She glanced at him and wondered once more if he might have realized she wasn’t male after all. Probably not, or he would have said something now while they were alone. Wouldn’t he?

She shook her head. Oliver was a likeable man, easy to talk to, helpful and considerate. Working with him was a pleasure since he consistently seemed to be one step ahead of her, always aware of what she needed and when. If he truly believed her to be his best mate, she ought to be flattered, not suspicious.

“I’ll have to think about it,” she said, deliberately stalling for time. Considering the position she was in, it was imperative she think of all that might go wrong for her if she went out with him. “Lucy will also have to agree to being watched by someone she doesn’t know.”

“Of course. I understand.” He flung his free arm around Harriet’s shoulder and gave her a quick sideways squeeze. “If you tell her my sister makes excellent crepes, I’m sure she’ll agree.”

Harriet grinned. It was nice having a friend like Oliver, and it felt good being referred to as someone’s best mate. For too long, she’d felt so abandoned and alone. Knowing Oliver, James, and Matthew could be relied on if she needed help was a blessing.

“I’m sure you’re correct,” Harriet said. “But I’ll want to meet your sister first, if that’s all right.”

“Sure thing.” Oliver withdrew his arm and sent her a broad smile. “Let me know when and I’ll make it happen. Will give us a chance to discuss Mary Wilkes.”

Harriet instinctively rolled her eyes and groaned in response to the mention of the girl Mr. Hudson employed as a cleaning lady “I’d rather not.”

“You know she fancies you, right?”

“I do.” She’d have to be blind and deaf to be unaware of the fact since Mary wasn’t the least bit subtle.

“So why don’t you make your move, Harry?”

“Make my move?” Harriet had no desire to venture down this conversational path.

Unfortunately, Oliver was quite determined. “I saw your expression when James mentioned the brothel and we were talking about our experiences of that nature. Made me realize you might not have much. Which is nothing to be embarrassed about, I assure you.”

“To be honest,” Harriet muttered, her face turning hot with discomfort, “I’ve more important things to consider.”

“Most people do, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make time for yourself on occasion. And Mary’s extremely pretty. Shapely too. Don’t you think?”

“Certainly, but I’m not in the business of taking a young woman’s innocence.”

Oliver snorted. “That girl is about as innocent as a seasoned courtesan. Mark my word, you’ll not be her first or even her second. That’s for sure.”

Harriet struggled to keep the shock from her voice when she asked, “How on earth do you know that?”

“Saw her with David Bates last week in the back alley. Seemed to be having a jolly good time, if you know what I mean.”

Baffled and slightly disgusted, Harriet shook her head. “In other words, she’s giving herself to other men while pursuing me?”

“What can I say? Men aren’t the only ones with needs of that nature.”

Increasingly concerned about having to chat about this at greater length, Harriet regretted agreeing to speak with Lucy about going out with Oliver one evening. But at least her sister could serve as a reason for her to decline. Something could always come up, like a tummy ache or an unwillingness to sacrifice one precious evening with Harriet.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Harriet said when they reached the next street corner where she would turn right while Oliver continued for two more blocks.

“Have a good evening.” His arm came around her, drawing her into a tight embrace before letting her go. “Get some rest.”

“You too,” she said before stepping down from the pavement and crossing the street. The bakery up ahead would provide the pies she intended to purchase for supper.

“How was your day?” she asked Lucy when she returned to their lodgings.

“Boring as usual,” Lucy complained. She sat at the table – the only other piece of furniture present besides two chairs and their beds – reading the book Harriet’s friend Emily Brooke had provided during their last book club meeting.

Harriet had learned of the meetings from Ada Quinn, whose acquaintance she’d made in childhood. They’d grown up near the same village, so they’d met every Sunday at church. As they’d grown up, their friendship had deepened. They’d kept in touch after Ada’s father died and she’d moved to London. When Harriet herself had arrived a few years later, she’d sought her out.

At Ada’s insistence, Harriet had joined her for one of the book club meetings, which took place the first Saturday morning of every month and was started by Emily, a viscount’s daughter and the most upper-class person Harriet knew. Initially, Harriet’s short hair had caused a bit of a stir in the group, but her explanation pertaining to practicality had apparently made enough sense for the issue to quickly be dropped.

The meetings took place during the only time Harriet had free from work and offered a lovely escape from the pretense she lived on a daily basis.

“Did you do the sums I prepared?” she asked Lucy.

“Yes, but I struggled with the last ones. The directions you left me were hard to follow.”

“I’ll go over it with you once we’ve eaten.” Harriet collected the two single plates they owned and set them on the table. It helped that her sister was of an age now where she could at least help with basic house work. Like ensuring the space was swept once a day, the beds made, the surfaces cleaned, and the washing up done so Harriet didn’t have to complete these chores when she returned home.

As was often the case, it was past ten o’clock before she was able to climb into bed, exhausted, and well aware that she’d only get four hours of sleep before she had to get up again and start a new day.

“Good night,” she whispered before turning the light down.

“Good night,” Lucy answered.

Harriet listened to her sister’s gentle breathing until it slowed and then willed herself to fall asleep too. But doing so was a struggle. Her thoughts kept returning to her conversation with Oliver, to his mention of Mary, and to his opinion of Mr. Evans, which reminded her of her own encounter with the man yesterday.

It was silly of her to go over it all again, but she honestly couldn’t help it. He’d made an impression. His touch had seared her. Just thinking of him made her heart beat faster. And while she’d done what she could to avoid him today, she couldn’t deny that she harbored a secret desire for their paths to cross again soon. If only for her to experience once more the jolt of pleasure he’d caused.

But whatever hopes she might have allowed herself to have in this regard were disappointed during the next few days when work got in the way. Kept busy in the printing room, she had no cause to venture into the front of the building where Mr. Evans would likely be found.

This changed the following week when Harriet went to inform Mr. Hudson that they were beginning to run low on ink. Mr. Evans, whose desk was located near Mr. Hudson’s greeted her politely when she arrived in the front office, the brief attention he gave her instantly flipping her stomach.

Despite her flustered state, she managed to keep her voice level while wishing him a good afternoon in return. She then turned to her employer, ever conscious of Mr. Evans and the searing effect he had on her nerves.

Fearful Mr. Hudson might catch her blushing, she fled back to the print room as soon as she’d relayed her message, but it took a good while before her pulse slowed to a normal pace. Wanting to see Mr. Evans again had clearly been foolish. She ought to forget him and focus on work.

A sound decision that fell apart the next day day when the door to the print room opened while she was assembling a sort. Harriet didn’t look up from her work, but a prickly sensation at the nape of her neck alerted her to Mr. Evans’s presence. It was the most bizarre experience yet.

“Mr. Michaels?” he asked, his firm voice sending a shiver across her shoulders. “A word, if I may?”

“Just a moment,” Harriet informed him. “Give me the next word, Oliver.”

Oliver did as she asked so she could finish the form she’d been working on. She slid it across to James who began adding ink while Matthew placed paper in the printing frame.

Harriet stood, rolled her shoulders, and stretched her back. “Mind if we take a five-minute break?”

Oliver glanced at Mr. Evans, then returned his attention to Harriet. He shrugged. “If you like.”

Something in his tone suggested he wasn’t pleased by the interruption. Harriet didn’t blame him. They usually ran to the end of a chapter before taking a break, yet they’d only completed half.

She gave him an apologetic look. “I’ll be right back.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Mr. Evans said once they’d stepped out into the narrow transitional space between the print room and the front office. A door to the right led to the privy while another opened up to a modest storage room where Mary kept her cleaning supplies. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you for a couple of days but never found the chance to. Eventually I decided to seek you out.”

It was ridiculous how much pleasure this remark gave her. She actually had to make a conscious effort to keep from grinning, since that would surely put Mr. Evans off.

So she crossed her arms and attempted a casual look. “Really?”

“The way we met keeps nagging at me,” Mr. Evans explained. “I’d really like to make it up to you in some way by taking you out for a drink.”

Harriet almost laughed. Her life had truly taken a turn toward satire when not only one but two attractive men were vying for her attention, while thinking she was a man. Honestly, she’d never before been so popular as she was as the working-class Mr. Harry Michaels, instead of the gently bred Miss Harriet Michaels.

Had she known, she might have taken to dressing like a man long ago.

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you, but I really can’t spare the time.”

Mr. Evans met her gaze and held it for a moment before eventually nodding. “Fair enough. I just didn’t want your only impression of me to be based on my constant knack for shoving you sideways.”

She couldn’t help but send him a cheeky smile while saying, “I’m afraid it’s too late, Mr. Evans. The damage is already done.”

His answering chuckle warmed her heart and made her feel strangely at ease with him. In a comforting sort of way that was wholly unexpected. “Hopefully, with time, that will change. After all, I do have my reputation to consider. If word of my awkwardness were to get out, I’d be socially ruined.”

She laughed and the door from the print room opened.

“We ought to get back to work,” Oliver said.

Harriet nodded. She bit her lip and gave Mr. Evans a hesitant look before saying, “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thank you, Mr. Michaels. We’ll leave it at that then, shall we?”

“Indeed.” She followed Oliver back into the print room and went to prepare for the next set of sorts.

“What secret?” Oliver asked as he took his seat.

“Nothing.” She waved one hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re blushing, Harry.” His voice was quiet but firm.

Harriet stilled. Her mind raced. She had to think of something to say to dismiss whatever suspicions Oliver might be having. Eventually, she shrugged. “I’m simply a bit overheated, that’s all. Perhaps we should open another window?”

She deliberately tugged at her cravat for added effect and avoided glancing in Oliver’s direction, fearful he’d see much more than he ought if he caught her gaze in that moment. Instead she busied herself with tidying up some of the forms she’d given to James earlier. He’d set them to the left of where she worked, so she didn’t have to go get them herself.

Thankfully, Oliver did as she suggested without further comment. Their work resumed and Harriet relaxed.

“Did you speak with your sister?” Oliver asked at the end of the day.

“I did,” Harriet slowly informed him. “She’s not very keen on spending time with a stranger, but I’ll do what I can to convince her.”

“Let me know once you do. The Ugly Grouse has an excellent fiddler on Thursday evenings. It would be great if we could go listen to him together.”

Harriet quite liked that idea, but once again, she worried it might overcomplicate matters. Still, she smiled and nodded as though in agreement. “I’d enjoy that.”

“See you tomorrow,” James said as he headed out.

“I’m off too,” Matthew said.

“You coming?” Oliver asked once the others were gone.

“In a bit,” Harriet said, hoping to avoid having to walk with him again. His eagerness for a closer relationship with her would only lead to trouble. Already, she feared, she’d revealed too much without thinking. The same was true of Mr. Evans. In future, she had to avoid both men to the best of her ability. “You go ahead.”

Oliver hesitated, but when Harriet turned her back to him and proceeded to check the print they’d produced that afternoon, he wished her a pleasant evening and left.

She counted to ten after hearing the door swing shut, before sagging against the back of her chair. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she tossed the papers she’d been reviewing aside before raking her hair with her fingers. Good lord. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Oliver’s feelings, but better that than run the risk of him finding out she’d deceived everyone, including him.

Just to be sure he wouldn’t be waiting for her outside, Harriet chose to stay in the print room a while longer. Which wasn’t much of a chore since there was plenty to keep her busy.

She was in the process of tying the last of the bundled manuscripts together to save Richard the extra work tomorrow when the door leading out to the hallway opened and Mary appeared.

“Mr. Michaels. I’m glad to see you’re still here. It must be a week since I saw you last.”

Harriet suppressed a groan and tried to return Mary’s smile while instinctively backing up a step. “Good to see you, Mary. You, er…look well.”

Mary’s cheeks pinkened and her expression appeared slightly bashful, though Harriet imagined it might be an act. Especially if what Oliver had said about her was true. “Ever the gentleman you are, Mr. Michaels. I must say, you’re even more handsome than usual today, what with your hair all scruffy and such.”

She set the broom she’d brought with her aside and swept toward Harriet with too much determination for Harriet’s liking. Unfortunately, the work table directly behind her stopped her from retreating farther, allowing Mary to reach her within a few paces.

Harriet leaned back as Mary stepped forward, straight into her personal space.

“I wonder if you might be willing to add a bit of distance, Mary. You’re awfully close.”

Instead of retreating, Mary caught the lapels of Harriet’s jacket and pulled her toward her. “I’ve been hoping to get you alone for a while now, Mr. Michaels. You’re a difficult man to catch.”

“Possibly because I don’t wish to be caught,” Harriet said while struggling to free herself from Mary’s grasp.

“Let’s put an end to the pretense, shall we? I mean, it’s been fun and all, but you can only flirt with a girl for so long before you’re expected to act.”

What on earth was she on about? “I think you’re mistaken, Mary. I’ve not been flirting.”

“Sure you have.” She chuckled and leaned in closer, her breath sweeping over the edge of Harriet’s chin. “You’re always smiling and praising my looks, thanking me for the work I do, and you even gave me a biscuit one time.”

“I was being nice.” Although in hindsight, Harriet could see she might have overdone it a notch. But she’d felt bad for Mary, having to clean up the mess made by nine men throughout the day. The privy was especially challenging. So she’d offered her a biscuit to make her feel better.

“You can dress it up however you like,” Mary said, “but I know you’re keen on my attentions. Once we’ve enjoyed each other’s company, I’m sure you’ll agree to a far more permanent attachment.”

And before Harriet could manage the sidestep she’d hoped to achieve, Mary’s mouth landed against her own. She sputtered and turned her head sideways. Ugh! Her first kiss, and it had to be with a girl.

“Come on, Mr. Michaels.” The blasted creature was starting to undo her trousers.

“Stop it,” Harriet choked. She’d been completely unprepared for such an assault. Her only thought in the moment was of escape. She grabbed Mary’s wrists and shoved them aside. “Mary. I—”

The door to the print room opened again and Mr. Evans entered. “Sorry. I didn’t realize…um…do carry on.”

“Wait,” Harriet called. “I was just coming to find you.”

“You were?” Mr. Evans could not have sounded more surprised.

“You invited me for that drink, remember?” She managed to send him a pleading look over Mary’s shoulder.

“Right. Of course.”

“Sorry.” Harriet met Mary’s gaze full on. “I’ve got to go. If you don’t mind.”

“I rather do,” Mary said, “but I suppose we can always resume our tryst later.”

Harriet sent her gaze skyward. Heaven help her.

Perhaps a tougher approach was required. Clearly good manners were working against her in this particular instance. “Let’s not.”

“But—”

“My wife would not approve,” Harriet said, latching onto the single most convincing argument she could think of for a man to avoid a pretty woman’s attentions.

Mary blinked. “Oh. I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t realize you were married.”

“Rest assured, I’d gladly accept your…um…offer if I weren’t.” Harriet added a nod for good measure and managed to edge away from Mary. “I’ll see you later. All right?”

She wished her a pleasant evening for good measure while grabbing her things and hurrying across to where Mr. Evans stood waiting. He also said goodbye to Mary before following Harriet through the building toward the front exit. They arrived on the street soon after, with neither saying a word until they’d walked several steps.

“I gather you’re not keen on Mary then?” Mr. Evans finally asked, his cheerful tone prompting Harriet to laugh.

“Not in the least.” She smirked. “You can have her, if you like.”

“As generous as that is,” he said, keeping his voice jovial, “I’d like to decline.”

“The choice may not be up to you. Turns out, Mary can be very insistent.” More so than Harriet had ever thought possible. She’d obviously underestimated her interest.

“Good thing I got there when I did.”

Harriet heartily agreed. She shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if Mary had tried to grope her. “Thank you for showing up. And for agreeing to play along.”

It was kind of him after she’d initially turned him down.

“You’re welcome.” Mr. Evans held her gaze for a second before jerking his head toward the left. “Come on. The place I have in mind is right over there.”