Chapter 10

Ten

Considering she once again found herself in the most perplexing of predicaments, Camilla could no longer deny that her once-predictable life had taken a decidedly unexpected turn.

Not only had she been chased by would-be abductors, had raccoons rain down on her, took an unintentional dip in a river, agreed to assist a young lady who was apparently known as a ragamuffin secure a bit of polish, and been informed that Lord Shrewsbury was returning to the States, she now found herself face-down in what she was afraid might be manure.

It wasn't much of a stretch to realize that most of these events were a direct result of her becoming acquainted with Owen.

One would have thought, given the concerning direction her life was taking these days, that she'd want to put as much distance as she possibly could between herself and a man who'd introduced sheer chaos into her life, but oddly enough, that wasn't exactly the case.

For some reason, she found herself drawn to the man, which was curious to say the least, because unlike every other gentleman of her acquaintance, except for Gideon, Owen seemed to spend a lot of his time disagreeing with her. He also didn't fawn over her, and certainly didn't attempt to impress her by lavishing compliments on her like most members of society did. Truth be told, the compliments he thought he was extending her were usually more like insults.

However, even though he frequently insulted her, the very idea that he had absolutely no interest in her fortune was remarkably refreshing, considering that the majority of gentlemen who'd tried to court her—Lord Shrewsbury included, of course—might have found her company pleasant but her fortune downright enticing.

Granted, there were occasions when Owen spoke his mind without a second thought, and left her itching to throttle the man, but even though he had the ability to aggravate her, there was something about him that she found ever so slightly ... appealing.

It was an odd circumstance to be sure, and even curiouser was that she was contemplating his appeal while Gladys continued to strain against the leash because there seemed to be a mad pig on the loose.

The reminder of the pig sent Camilla flipping over on her back just as Gladys jerked the leash straight from her wrist, dashing away before Camilla could stop her.

"I'll get her," Camilla heard Lottie yell before she went rushing by, Edward following in her wake as Camilla pushed herself to a sitting position. Her hands immediately sunk into inch-deep muck, but any thoughts of muck disappeared straightaway when she realized that the pig was only five feet away from her and was releasing deep, guttural-sounding snorts.

"Is it rabid?" she managed to get out of a throat that was now somewhat constricted, due no doubt to the imminent threat of being attacked by a mad pig.

"She's not," Owen said, moving in front of her to shield her from the pig in question.

"She sounds like she is."

"Esmerelda always sounds like that because she's a menace with a questionable disposition."

"Don't your neighbors have an issue living on the same street as a menacing pig?"

"I'm sure they would if Esmerelda lived on the island. She doesn't, which is why I'm a little confused what she's doing here now."

He turned his attention to a young lady plastered in mud, who was currently struggling to tie a rope around Esmerelda, who evidently didn't want the rope tied around her since she'd grabbed hold of it with her mouth and was shaking it back and forth, causing the lady to wobble about. "Care to explain why Esmerelda's here, Luella?"

It really came as no surprise that the mud-encrusted lady was Owen's sister, one who lifted her head and settled narrowed eyes on her brother. "You'll need to take that up with Meemaw."

"Meemaw's here?"

"She's inside. Making pies." Luella yanked the rope from the pig's mouth, looped it underneath an enormous stomach, took a second to knot the rope, then straightened. "We were expecting you back earlier."

"My train got delayed, but what are you doing here?"

"You'll have to ask Meemaw. It was her idea to come to the island, and no, I don't know why, nor do I know why she insisted we bring Esmerelda."

"There's no need to get testy. It was just a question."

Luella tossed one of her pigtails over her shoulder. "I've just spent the past hour running around the island, chasing a pig whose sole purpose in life is to create as much destruction as possible. Of course I'm testy. You know everyone on the island already thinks I'm some country bumpkin who is the very definition of unrefined. Scrambling down one street after another, trying to lasso a squealing pig, certainly didn't do anything to change that impression."

"I'm afraid you're probably right," Owen admitted. "Which is why I'm sure you're going to be relieved to learn that I've brought a solution home that should rectify everyone's less-than-favorable impression of you." He turned, winced when his gaze settled on Camilla, and blew out a breath. "I do beg your pardon, Miss Pierpont. I'm afraid I forgot for a moment that you're lingering about in all that mud."

He immediately offered her his hand, and she found herself pulled from the wreckage of someone's former garden a second later.

"I'm sure your forgetfulness was simply a result of an unexpected pig attack," she said, wiping her hands down the front of a traveling gown that was definitely not going to be salvageable.

"Is she the solution to my problem?" Luella asked, stepping closer as her gaze traveled over Camilla.

"She is, but before we get into any details regarding that—Luella, this is Miss Camilla Pierpont. Camilla, my sister, Miss Luella Chesterfield."

Even though, given the circumstances, it felt rather ridiculous to dip into a curtsy, that's exactly what Camilla decided to do, since she was, after all, there to take Luella in hand and teach her a few manners. "It's delightful to meet you, Miss Chesterfield. Your brother's told me a lot about you."

Instead of dipping into a curtsy of her own, Luella thrust her hand Camilla's way. Not wanting to be rude, Camilla soon found her hand clasped in a firm grip, then shaken exactly twice, which was, surprisingly, the proper way to shake a hand—well, at least amongst gentlemen. Luella then took a step back, wiped her muddy hand, some of the mud having been transferred to her from Camilla's mud-drenched glove, down the front of a dress that resembled a potato sack, and smiled, something that lit up her face and had Camilla realizing that Luella Chesterfield, underneath all the mud, was an incredibly beautiful young lady, a tidbit Owen had neglected to mention.

A sense of anticipation began swirling through her as she mentally redressed Luella in a fashionable gown, removed her hair from pigtails and into an elaborate chignon, and cleaned the mud from a face that was downright arresting, complete with blue eyes that were rimmed with extremely long lashes.

"How much did you have to pay her to be the solution to my problem?" Luella asked, settling a scowl on her brother.

Owen scowled right back at her. "Just because you're in a testy frame of mind doesn't give you an excuse for rudeness, brat."

"Calling me a brat is hardly likely to cause my testiness to abate, and it's not rude, but a legitimate question because you had to fork out a small fortune to get me enrolled in that fancy finishing school, and we both know how well that didn't turn out. I'd hate for you to have yet another dismal return on an investment, something that's a distinct possibility with this latest solution of yours."

"I'm not paying Miss Pierpont anything."

Luella's gaze suddenly shot to the wagon piled high with portmanteaus before she returned her attention to her brother. "There's an awful lot of trunks over there, which suggests Miss Pierpont is here for an extended, or perhaps even permanent, stay."

"She's a lady who merely enjoys numerous wardrobe changes a day."

"A ready response if there ever was one, and one that seems rather practiced, so ... what are you hiding from me?"

"I'm not hiding anything."

Luella tapped a finger against her chin, then stilled as her eyes widened. "Oh my word, you've evidently taken Mother's last letter to heart and decided to fix my problem, as well as appease her greatest desire, by getting yourself one of those mail-order brides, which then means—you've clearly lost your mind."

"My mind is fine, and I don't recall Mother even mentioning a mail-order bride in her last letter."

"She didn't," Luella returned. "But she did strongly suggest you procure a bride in the near future because she knows the house on the hill will never get properly furnished until you get married. She obviously thinks it needs a lady's touch, and clearly doesn't believe I'm qualified to pick out a few couches and chairs."

"I'm hardly likely to make the monumental decision to get married simply because Mother is concerned the house she insisted on building before she left for Paris lacks furnishings," Owen muttered.

"But you would contemplate marriage if you thought that state would have Mother returning home, and"—Luella held up a muddy hand when Owen opened his mouth—"before you argue with that, having Mother return to the States would allow you to relinquish your guardianship of me, and bringing home a bride would also serve the purpose of having all the talk surrounding me fading into the background because everyone would become all but rabid in their quest to ferret out the juicy details regarding why you decided to marry a lady who isn't local."

"As you very well know, local ladies seem to find me vastly unpleasant, but that unfortunate state certainly wouldn't cause me to look into securing a wife through the mail." Owen shot a look at Camilla. "And, just as an aside, I wouldn't even know how to go about procuring one of those."

"I didn't know you could order a bride through the mail," Camilla admitted right as the thought struck that her day, instead of returning to any semblance of normalcy, was becoming downright peculiar. "Nevertheless, before we find ourselves engaged in a conversation revolving around what a person can actually purchase through the mail, perhaps I should explain what I'm doing here to Luella since that might expediate the matter, as well as discourage any other outlandish ideas she may soon form about me."

Luella gave her nose another scratch. "Since you're not a mail-order bride, I was thinking you might have arranged one of those marriages of convenience with Owen."

"You clearly have quite the imagination, Miss Chesterfield, but no, and to be clear, I don't have any intentions of marrying your brother. I'm merely here at your brother's request to aid you with your Stanley situation."

Luella took to fiddling with one of her braids before she smiled. "Ah, I see. You must owe him a favor, since it's not exactly common for an instructor to not get paid, especially when you must be aware of the fact that the Chesterfield family is loaded."

"I am aware that your family is wealthy— loaded being a word that a lady would never use—and while we're on the topic of acceptable things to say to people, it's never permissible for a lady to state how much money her family possesses."

Luella crossed her arms over her chest. "We Chesterfields believe in speaking bluntly."

"You also, at least in your case, believe in breaking gentlemen's noses, but that doesn't mean it's acceptable behavior. Curtailing your tongue, as well as your fists, is going to be a must if you expect anyone to believe you're capable of becoming a lady of refinement."

"Then I guess it's a good thing I've changed my mind about that."

Camilla stole a glance at Owen, who was now rubbing his temple, quite as if he were developing a headache.

"You no longer want to become proper so that you can attend that ball come June?" he asked.

"Why bother?" Luella shot back. "It's not like anyone will believe I've changed, especially after Martha Wellington and Clarice Colleens, two of my dearest friends until two days ago, asked Stanley, along with three of his friends, to accompany them on a picnic up to McGovern Pond—where my former friends knew I was going to be swimming."

"And they're your former friends because they should have known you wouldn't want to see Stanley again?" Owen asked.

"They're no longer my friends because I think Martha might have her eye on Stanley now that I'm no longer in the picture. And before you ask if that bothers me, no, but what does bother me is that they knew I'd be swimming in the pond because I'd asked them to join me, but they told me they had other plans—plans that I now know revolved around mortifying me."

"Should I ask what happened?"

"Since talk is rampant regarding yet another Luella incident, you're certain to hear about it, so I might as well 'fess up." Luella drew in a breath. "Since I was alone—well, except for Esmerelda, who always seems to know when I'm off to swim and followed me—I saw no reason to swim in a bathing costume because, again, I was alone. Imagine my dismay when a mere ten minutes after I shucked off my clothing, Martha, Clarice, Stanley, and his friends showed up."

Camilla raised a hand to her throat. "You were ... naked?"

"Close enough," Luella admitted. "Not that anyone saw anything because I stayed underneath the water, and then Esmerelda did me the very large favor of running everyone off about five minutes after I was discovered because she prefers lounging in the pond in silence, something all the laughter coming from everyone disrupted."

Camilla drew herself up. "Are you telling me that Stanley and his friends didn't immediately beg your pardon and take their leave the second they realized you were inappropriately attired in the pond?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, and not only didn't they leave until Esmerelda chased them off, but they also then spread the story around Wheeling. That right there is why I won't be attending any balls in the near or distant future since I have no intention of setting myself up as a source of continuous amusement amongst the local set. It's also why I didn't want to accompany Meemaw to the island this morning, and you can bet your last dollar that I'll never come here again, not when I'm sure everyone will be all aflutter to spread the tale about me running down Zane Street trying to lasso a crazy pig. I think it'll be best all around if I just retreat to Meemaw's cabin forever."

"You can't spend the rest of your life hiding out with Meemaw," Owen pointed out.

"I don't see why not. I adore Meemaw."

Camilla cleared her throat. "Forgive me for interrupting, but I find I'm having a difficult time following the conversation as I don't know who this Meemaw is."

Luella and Owen exchanged a look before Luella frowned. "She's our grandmother."

"Your grandmother's name is Meemaw?" Camilla asked.

"Of course not. It's Beulah."

"Then why do you call her Meemaw?"

It was rather telling when Luella took to looking at her as if she were some unknown creature from another land before she shrugged. "Since you've evidently never heard the name meemaw before, know that everyone in these parts calls their grandmother that—well, except for the Murchendorfers, who've turned all hoity-toity and are now calling their meemaw Grandmother , although I have heard Sally slip a few times and call her Granny." Her lips curved. "Sally would be appalled to learn that Meemaw has always refused to allow any of her grandchildren to address her as Granny because she says Granny evokes images of old ladies wearing square spectacles and smoking pipes."

Owen leaned closer to Camilla. "Just so you know, Meemaw doesn't smoke a pipe, but our great-aunt Elma has been known to do so upon occasion."

Camilla blinked. "Great-Aunt Elma sounds, ah, well, delightful."

"Not a word anyone ever uses to describe her."

Before Camilla could do more than blink again, Gladys gamboled into view, dragging Edward behind her as Lottie jogged by his side.

A split second later, Esmerelda stopped chewing what seemed to be a tulip stalk and released a squeal that left the hair on the back of Camilla's neck standing at attention.

"Esmerelda, no!" Luella yelled as the pig surged into motion, tearing the rope from Luella's grasp as she charged straight for Gladys, who was now frozen in place, evidently too terrified to move.

Time seemed to slow down until a blur of black fur whizzed past Camilla, El Cid having apparently managed to escape the confines of his traveling basket.

In the span of a heartbeat, the cat was in front of Esmerelda, back arched and fur standing on end, hissing up a storm right before he raised a paw and swatted the pig right across the snout, earning a squeal of outrage in return.