Chapter 7

An uneasy feeling settled over Harriet the next day as she worked. Oliver was unusually quiet. More than that, he responded to Harriet’s comments with an underlying hint of contempt.

When she’d greeted him, he’d muttered a clipped, “Morning,” without making eye contact with her. As he read from the manuscript, his voice was curt to the point where even James and Matthew exchanged wary glances.

It got worse as the day wore on. By the time work ended, Harriet could no longer stand the tense atmosphere filling the print room.

Determined to get to the bottom of it, she grabbed Oliver’s arm and held him back, preventing him from following James and Matthew when they left. “What’s wrong?”

Oliver shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Really?” Harriet scoffed. “If I’ve said or done something to upset you, I’d rather you confront me about it instead of treating me with hostility. So what’s got you in a snit, Oliver?”

With his jaw set in a hard line, Oliver looked as though stubbornness might win out. Harriet sighed and withdrew her hand. She shook her head and began turning away when Oliver seized her and spun her around. Her back connected with the closed door, and Oliver leaned in, his eyes sparking with heightened emotion.

Harriet sucked in a breath. Her pulse, so steady moments before, now leapt with agitation.

“I saw you.” Oliver’s voice shook. His nostrils flared as he gritted his teeth. “You said you had to get home to your sister, but that was clearly a lie. Wasn’t it?”

Harriet frowned. “I don’t follow.”

Oliver snorted. A pained expression captured his features. “I saw you last night. With Mr. Evans.”

“You left here at least ten minutes before me, so unless…” A sick sensation swirled in Harriet’s stomach. “Were you stalking me?”

“Don’t be absurd. I realized I’d forgotten my hat, so I returned. Right in time to find you heading into The Ugly Grouse with Mr. Evans.” Oliver held Harriet’s gaze. “Apparently you had no issue enjoying a drink with him. Me, on the other hand, the idiot you’ve been leading on for the past couple of months, gets the boot.”

Panic descended on Harriet with the weight of an anvil. He had to know she wasn’t male. Somehow, in her eagerness to befriend him, she must have overplayed her hand. It was the only possible explanation. And yet, instinct compelled her to keep up her ruse - to try and convince him he’d made a mistake.

So she did what she could to convey incredulity. “Leading you on? I’m a lad, Oliver, in case you weren’t aware.”

“Aye. I’m aware all right.” Oliver’s fingertips grazed her jaw as he pressed up against her. “Don’t pick him, Harry. Pick me.”

Confusion plunged Harriet’s brain into a fog-like state as Oliver’s mouth met hers. He was kissing her, even though he thought she was male, which was not only strange, but also highly illegal. Were it not for the fact that she was indeed a woman.

She’d barely managed to process this before something distracted her from it. Not the kiss, which she meant to put an end to with a hard shove, but something wet and sticky in her snuggly fitted trousers.

Oh no. Not now.

She placed her palm on Oliver’s chest and pushed him until he was forced to retreat.

A pained expression filled his eyes. “Not good enough for you?”

“It’s got nothing to do with that.”

“He’s too fancy, you know. That sort of man will set his sights higher than on a compositor with ink-stained fingers. Provided he even leans that way.”

Although the comment was made in anger, Harriet knew it was true. As much as it stung, she had more important things to consider right now. “I need to use the privy.”

Oliver gave her an odd look. “Right now?”

“Yes.” She shoved her way past him and ran to her bag, acutely aware that her situation was not getting any better.

“What the hell, Harry?” He fell quiet for a moment as she tore her bag open and started rummaging through her things, searching for the cotton padding she always carried with her. And then… “It looks like your trousers are stained. Did you sit in something?”

“No.” She was always so careful to pay attention to when she might next expect her courses, but she’d been busy and distracted lately, and if she wasn’t mistaken, they’d come a bit early.

“Well, it looks like you’ve pissed yourself,” Oliver stated with a chuckle.

Harriet muttered an oath. “I haven’t…”

She gritted her teeth as she realized her bag did not contain the supplies she needed. Brilliant! Closing her eyes, she tried to figure out what to do next. She could perhaps use a cravat in a pinch, though she’d need more than one if she were to hold everything in place.

Swallowing, she settled on the best course of action and glanced at Oliver. Now that she knew his secret, she was certain he’d keep hers as well. It might even make him feel better if he were to find out she didn’t appeal as much as he’d thought. Unless he felt betrayed on account of her deception.

Never mind that. Time was of the essence. She couldn’t afford to question herself any longer.

“I need your help,” she said, hoping he’d make this easy on her.

He snorted. “First you reject me and then you come running. A fine friend you are, Harry.”

“My name isn’t Harry.”

He gave her a puzzled look before rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “Sure it is.”

“No. It isn’t. It’s Harriet.” When all he did was give her a blank stare, she admitted. “I’m not male like you think. I’m female, and I’ve just gotten my courses. That’s why my trousers are stained.”

His eyes widened as his face turned ashen. “You’re not joking?”

“I’m not. Please, Oliver, I need your cravat.” She sighed when all he did was stare at her in mute silence. “I’ll be sure to buy you a new one. Promise.”

“All right.” Moving stiffly, he undid the knot, unwound the length of linen from around his neck, and handed it to her, his hand trembling.

“Thank you.” She grabbed the cravat and ran for the privy. “Be right back.”

When she returned some five minutes later, Oliver was sitting on a stool, hugging himself while he stared at the floor. Hearing her enter the room, he glanced in her direction, blinked rapidly, and rushed to his feet. Pausing as though unsure of what to do next, he studied her with alarm.

“Are you sure you’re not male?” he eventually asked.

She produced a startled laugh. “Positive.”

He didn’t appear to share her humor. “You look like a young man.”

Frowning, she tilted her head. “I’m not sure if I should be glad about that or offended.”

His expression turned increasingly wary and when he spoke next, his voice sounded shaky. “How bad would it be for you if I were to mention your secret to Mr. Hudson?”

“He’d probably sack me, leaving me without an income. My only reason for pretending was so I could get this job. The work available to women is either demeaning or doesn’t pay well. With a younger sister to care for, I have to earn more than what I would as a shop assistant or maid. Working here made that possible, especially once I proved my worth.”

“So it’s fair to say you’d like to prevent me from letting it slip that you’re not Mr. Harry Michaels but rather Miss Harriet Michaels?”

“Very much so.”

Leaning against the stool on which he’d been sitting, he drew a ragged breath. The fear he experienced at knowing he hadn’t revealed himself to a likeminded man but to someone who might choose to use his proclivity against him was understandable. The danger he faced if anyone learned the truth about him could not be disputed.

Sympathizing, Harriet placed her hand on his arm and gently assured him, “Your secret is safe with me, Oliver. I promise not to betray you.”

He pressed his lips together and nodded while staring at her with glistening eyes. “Thank you. I’ll keep your confidence too.”

She nodded her appreciation then grabbed her bag along with her cap. “If it’s all right with you, I’ve got to get going. This make-shift compress I’ve fashioned will only last so long.”

He made a face and appeared to shake off the panic he’d been subjected to. “Can we please speak of something else?”

She grinned as she preceded him through the door. “Name the subject.”

“How about your tendre for Mr. Evans?”

Harriet shot him a disgruntled look. “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”

“Can’t you?” Oliver asked. He quietly added, “There’s a reason seeing you with him last night made me jealous.”

Her hand grabbed his arm, drawing him to a halt so she could face him. “I’m sorry, Oliver. Had I truly been male with…that sort of inclination, I’m sure I would have welcomed your interest.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Thank you. I’ve got to say, I still can’t believe you managed to fool me. Now that I’ve had some time to come to terms with the truth and take a better look at you, it’s obvious to me you’re a woman. Your features are simply too delicate.”

“People tend to see what they expect. I counted on that when I showed up dressed in men’s clothes with my hair cropped short and said my name was Harry.” They resumed walking. “I was terribly nervous – wasn’t sure I’d manage to pull it off – but I knew I had to hide my concerns and appear confident if I was going to manage.”

“No one suspected a thing, which is very impressive.”

“You don’t feel betrayed?”

He seemed to reflect on that question a moment. “No. You did what you had to do and for good reason. Who am I to be angry about that? I mean, I’ll not deny being disappointed since I fancied Harry, but you and I are friends first and foremost. I hope that won’t change even if you’re a woman.”

“Of course not. I’ll always value your friendship.”

“And as your friend, I’d love to know how you intend on pursuing Mr. Evans.”

Harriet nearly choked on her own tongue. “I’ve no intention of—”

“Come off it, Harry – and yes, I intend to keep using that name since it suits you – Mr. Evans is handsome and charming.”

“You said he’d never look twice at someone of my station.”

“Aha! So you do have an interest.” When Harriet rolled her eyes he confessed, “That comment was made when I hoped to convince you to give him up in favor of me. I no longer have such a wish.”

She sighed. “It matters not if I find him handsome or charming. He thinks I’m a man and that won’t change.”

“Are you certain?”

“Quite.” It was bad enough that Oliver knew the truth about her. Trusting additional people with it would just increase the risk of everyone else finding out. It wasn’t a chance she would take for any reason – certainly not for a chance at something as hard to come by as love.