“Let’s hope so,” Harriet said.
“Anyone up for a celebratory drink at the tavern around the corner?” Oliver asked, putting on his hat.
“I really ought to get home to my wife,” James said. “Some other time perhaps.”
“How about you two?” Oliver asked once James had left.
“I’ll join you,” Matthew said.
“And you, Harry?” Oliver sent her a hopeful look.
She shook her head. “Sorry. I’ve got to get home.”
“Why the rush?” Matthew asked. “You don’t have a wife waiting for you with a rolling pin the way James does. Unlucky bastard. I never understood why he married that woman.”
Harriet grabbed her cap and shoved it down over her head. “I’ve got a sister though. You know that.”
“Right. Of course.” Matthew’s expression brightened. “You should bring her along. Introduce her to us.”
“Not on your life,” Harriet told him. “She’s only twelve years old and even if she weren’t, I’d not let a roguish scoundrel like you within fifty yards of her, Matthew.”
Matthew grinned. “You can’t blame a man for trying.”
“Trying what?” Oliver asked. “You’ve made your position as a permanent bachelor clear.”
“I could be persuaded to change that stance, I suspect. If I met the right woman.” He slapped Harry on the back. “Too bad they’re not like us men in the way they think and behave. We’re logical creatures, right? Women though…” He shook his head and gave a low whistle. “Nothing but flights of fancy and high expectations.”
Harriet wasted no time in voicing her agreement. “Quite so, which is why I believe it’s best to avoid the parson’s mousetrap.”
“While getting whatever one needs from a Coventry nun,” Oliver said with a grin.
Harriet had no idea what that might be, but managed to work it out when Matthew said, “You’d do well to avoid them like the plague unless you’re looking to get a lot more for your money than pleasure. Better visit a clean establishment instead, like Amourette’s. You’ll find it on Parker’s Lane. The women there get regular checkups to make sure they don’t pose a danger to their clients.”
It took a bit of effort for Harriet not to stare at Matthew in shock and to remember that he thought she was one of the lads with whom he could speak of this sort of thing freely. Still, the very idea of paying someone for that sort of thing made her skin itch. To say nothing of the poor women who had no choice but to lower themselves to such an unseemly profession.
Thank goodness she’d thought to disguise herself and that the disguise had proven effective. Otherwise, she too ran the risk of being taken advantage of since lower-class women could easily fall prey to cruel men. Especially if they were pretty. Not that she was either of those things. Her family was gentry, but life had been both unfair and hard after the death of her father.
She shook herself free from that thought and, realizing Matthew and Oliver watched her, quickly nodded. “I quite agree. The last thing anyone wants is the pox.”
“Hear, hear,” Matthew said while Oliver directed a curious look at Harriet that made her feel more than a little uneasy. She hoped he’d not seen through her disguise.
But then he nodded and suggested he and Matthew head off.
“I’ll lock up,” she informed the pair. There was one more thing she wanted to do before leaving, and that was check the manuscript they would start on in the morning. If she could also prepare the sorts for the first two forms, she’d be especially pleased. It shouldn’t take long.
Oliver and Matthew wished her good night and headed off. The door slammed behind them and Harriet grabbed the bundle of papers that constitutedScottish Wildflowers. She set it on the work table and cut the twine it was tied with, using a knife. Besides the title block she’d collected, several compositing sticks would have to be prepared for the author name, publishing house, and publication date. After that, came the introduction – a one page tightly penned piece.
Harriet collected a new compositing stick and began placing the sorts. It took a bit longer without Oliver’s help since she had to stop and read all the time, but getting it done would lead to an easier start in the morning.
She expelled a satisfied breath once she’d finished and glanced at the clock that sat on a nearby shelf. It was almost half past eight. Time for her to get back to Lucy and make sure she ate something decent. She picked up two of the forms she’d prepared and carried them to the inking table where James was most likely to see them if he arrived before she did tomorrow.
But as she passed the door that led to the front of the building where Mr. Hudson and his editors worked, it flew open, straight into Harriet. The impact knocked several sorts loose and sent them flying.
“For bloody crying out loud,” she exclaimed, then blinked a few times when she saw who had entered the room. She stared at him. Surely this had to be some sort of joke. “What are you doing here?”
The stranger who kept walking into her gave her a blank look. “Mr. Hudson employed me.”
She groaned in frustration.Brilliant. Her attempt at forgetting all about him and his inadvertent ability to sweep her off her feet at every opportunity had been made impossible by the very fact that they were now colleagues.
