Free After a Fashion by Jen Turano

time.”
    “That long?”
    “I have business meetings for the rest of today and most of tomorrow. Two days from now is the soonest I can fit you into my schedule. And just so we’re clear, I expect you to have at least a dress or two at that time for me to inspect.”
    Harriet stiffened. “There’s absolutely no need for you to inspect anything I purchase. For your information, I have a keen sense for fashion.” She glanced at his sleeve that was now only attached to his shoulder by a single thread. “If anyone needs inspecting, I would have to say it’s you. Your jacket barely fits you, and it’s so poorly tailored that it’s falling apart right before my eyes.”
    “My tailor is the best in the city, and . . .” Oliver looked at his sleeve and blinked. “I’m sure the only reason my clothing is currently falling to pieces is because it wasn’t meant to withstand such a ferocious storm.”
    “I’ve never had any of my garments disintegrate because of a little water, and—” She stopped speaking when Oliver suddenly shut the carriage door, effectively cutting her off. Narrowing her eyes at him through the window, Harriet considered jumping out of the carriage to finish her sentence, but a sharp rap on the side sent it into motion, ruining her plans. As she settled back against the comfortable seat, Harriet’s fingers tightened around the bag.
    “I’ve obviously lost my mind,” she told Buford, who simply stared back at her with his tongue lolling out. “I mean, honestly, who possessed of all of their wits would have agreed to a business deal that’s doomed for failure?”
    Buford licked his lips and whined . . . loudly.
    “Good heavens, I never thought to ask Oliver to send along something for you to eat, and . . . Oh dear, what are we going to do about Mrs. Palmer’s little yippers? She’s my landlady, and her dogs are constantly underfoot, and if you’re hungry . . .” She tucked the lap robe more securely around herself. “Well, you’re just going to have to promise not to eat them. Reasonably priced rooms are hard to come by these days, and I’d hate to get evicted because you got a taste for yappy little pooches.”
    To her dismay, Buford licked his lips again.
    “Or perhaps I’ll run right out to the butcher once we get to my home and buy you something to eat, and . . . I’ll use just a little of what’s in this bag to pay for it.” Forcing fingers that seemed reluctant to untie the drawstring, she peeked inside and pulled out a slip of paper lying on top of far too many bills.
    For incidentals , she read. Harriet wrinkled her nose. “Who keeps this much money lying about for incidentals? Most people have a few coins at their disposal, but . . .” She glanced into the bag again and felt her stomach turn queasy. “There is no possible way I’m going to be able to go through with this.”
    Closing the bag, she looked out the window, drawing in one steadying breath after another. Her thoughts jumped from one problem to the next until she realized her brow was soaking wet and not from the rain she’d recently experienced.
    “This is the worst birthday I’ve ever had. Well, perhaps not as bad as the one where I learned my aunt was a swindler, but . . .” She pressed her lips together and considered the bag of money lying on her lap. “Unless . . .” She looked at Buford, who was watching her closely, his dark doggy eyes following her slightest movement. “You don’t think this is my something wonderful God sent me, do you?”
    Buford’s only response was another licking of his lips.
    “Right, I’m probably being fanciful, because I highly doubt God would approve of the disaster I’ve landed myself into. But what am I to do now? It would hardly be honorable to renege at this point, especially since Oliver is counting on me, but . . . I have no idea how to mingle in society.”
    Leaning her head against the window, Harriet watched the passing