Chapter 12

Twelve

During the hour and a half that had passed since Camilla dropped the unexpected revelation that she was apparently almost engaged to him, Owen had found himself chuckling more than a few times, earning concerned looks from Meemaw and Luella in the process, as if they'd never taken note of him chuckling before.

Even his gardener, whom he'd been helping repair the back fence that Esmerelda had chewed her way through, had been looking at him oddly, and had moved to another section of the fence at one point, quite as if he'd wanted to put some distance between them because he was seemingly of the belief that Owen had lost his mind.

Frankly, Owen couldn't pinpoint exactly what he found so amusing, other than the fact that Camilla, as she'd risen to his family's defense in a most magnificent fashion, had obviously been just as astonished by her pronouncement as everyone else had been, given the way her eyes had widened ever so slightly.

Other than that, though, she'd not given Ada Mae a single reason to question what had obviously been a spur-of-the-moment declaration, instead merely lifting her chin and sending his neighbor a glacial glare before she'd turned on her heel and glided into his house.

It had been a most impressive departure if he'd ever seen one, even with Camilla covered in mud and trailed by El Cid, Gladys, and Esmerelda, who seemed, oddly enough, enamored with El Cid. Meemaw's pig was even now waiting outside the back door, snuffling through the screen and releasing forlorn-sounding snorts, probably because El Cid was nowhere to be found, having followed Camilla as she'd repaired to the second-floor bedroom Meemaw had assigned her, telling Owen she'd be back directly after she freshened up.

Being back directly , at least in Camilla's case, evidently took over an hour and a half, but as she'd certainly had a trying day and was probably now aghast about the whole imminent announcement she'd told Ada Mae was in the works, Owen couldn't blame her for taking all the time she needed to think through the intricate details pertaining to their impending betrothal.

He was beyond curious how she was going to handle a situation she'd created, and all because she'd obviously allowed her temper, something she continuously denied she possessed, get the better of her.

From his perspective, she had two options—she could race back to New York and pretend she'd never met him, or ... she could continue with what was a rather unprecedented charade, which, if that was her choice, suggested that the Lord Something-or-Other she'd briefly mentioned, but hadn't expanded on, might really be the main reason she'd changed her mind about helping Luella in the first place.

"I apologize for my lengthy absence," the object of his thoughts said as she breezed into the room, looking resplendent in a gown of palest green, her blond hair swept up on top of her head and sporting not a single smidgen of dirt anywhere, the pinkness of her cheeks suggesting she'd lingered in the tub for quite some time.

"There's no need to apologize because I just got back from fixing the fence," Owen said as Camilla settled herself on a chaise done up in a floral chintz, one his mother had purchased when her Wheeling friends had decided flowers were all the rage some five years before.

He'd always found the floral motif a little fussy, but since his mother was no longer in town to redecorate and his grandmother had no interest in furnishing trends, that idea reinforced by the fact she'd had the same furniture in her cabin for the past forty years, and Luella had always seemed indifferent to what the interior of the house looked like, he'd not bothered to change the décor.

Camilla stopped rearranging the folds of her skirt and lifted her head. "You fixed the fence?"

"Esmerelda did quite a bit of damage, and we only keep one gardener on the island, Mr. Bannock. I wanted to lend him some assistance before Esmerelda had an opportunity to make another great escape."

"You know that's not the only reason you helped," Luella said, strolling into the room, her wet hair trailing down her back and wearing a dress Owen was relatively sure had been Meemaw's at some point. "Mr. Bannock only has one good hand, which would have made it tricky for him to fix a fence whether there was a time challenge or not."

"You have a one-handed gardener?" Camilla asked.

"Most of our help have physical limitations in one form or another," Luella said, sitting down on a chair sprinkled with bright pink flowers woven into the fabric. "Owen makes a point to hire men who've been hurt in mining and factory accidents, which, unfortunately, this area sees far too often." She reached down and gave El Cid, who'd followed Camilla into the room and was now rubbing against Luella's skirt, a pat. "Mr. Bannock's left hand was crushed in some machinery when he worked in a glassworks factory. He didn't lose the hand, but he's not capable of holding much with it."

"Owen also hired Johnny Nemeti, known as simply Nems, who lost a leg when there was an explosion at a coal mine up near St. Clairsville, to drive our carriages," Meemaw said as she pushed a cart stacked with plates, cups, a coffee urn, and an apple pie into the room, Mr. Timken hovering directly behind her, as if he were itching to take over and assume his usual role of butler. "Nems was thrilled with the offer, although he grumbles a lot because we don't use our carriages often. He feels guilty about drawing a salary when he's not called upon to do much work."

"His services will undoubtedly be required more frequently now that Miss Pierpont's come to visit," Luella said before she quirked a brow at Camilla. "You are going to stay, aren't you, even after engaging in that contentious exchange, which I enjoyed tremendously, with Mrs. Murchendorfer?"

Camilla winced and turned to Owen. "I suppose there's really no choice but for me to stay, since I've complicated an already precarious situation. I've taken some time to consider the matter, Mr. Chesterfield, and we might be able to use what I can only call a lapse in sanity on my part to our advantage."

He smiled. "Don't you think, since we're evidently practically engaged, that you might want to start calling me Owen?"

Camilla's shoulders drooped just the slightest bit. "I suppose that's a practical suggestion, as I'm sure people would remark upon it if we maintained an air of formality between us. Nevertheless, before I say another word about a situation that's entirely my fault and how I'm going to go about resolving matters, allow me to apologize for placing you in what is certainly an unenviable position. I simply don't know what came over me that caused me to blurt out a forthcoming announcement."

"Why would you think finding myself almost engaged to you would be an unenviable position?"

"Because when we don't get married, people like Ada Mae will start spouting more nonsense about your family being ne'er-do-wells again, which will certainly be why they conclude I didn't go through with marrying you." She lifted her chin. "However, I've already figured out how to save your reputation."

"Shouldn't we be more concerned with your reputation?" Owen asked.

"Given my advanced age and the fact I'm from an esteemed family, I don't face as much censure as most ladies do. Besides that, there's little chance anyone in New York will hear even a whisper of what I've been up to in Wheeling."

"I can surely attest to the advantages of the advanced-age business," Meemaw said as she took hold of the coffeepot but paused instead of pouring out a cup. "After I reached seventy, I didn't bother to censor anything I wanted to say, and I have yet to have anyone reprimand me about any frank opinions I might voice."

"You've never censored your speech, even before you turned seventy," Owen argued. "And the reason no one reprimands you is because you're slightly terrifying."

"Only slightly?" Meemaw asked before she settled a quizzical eye on Camilla. "But returning to something you just said, how is it you're so certain we're not ne'er-do-wells? It's not as if you're overly familiar with the Chesterfield family."

"I don't need to be overly familiar with any of you to conclude that, especially after your grandson didn't hesitate to rush to my rescue when I was under attack by armed men who probably wanted to abduct me. A ne'er-do-well would have never bothered becoming involved, and..." She turned her attention to Luella. "You challenged a fellow academy student to a duel because she was being cruel to another girl. A ne'er-do-well wouldn't have lifted a finger to help her, and..." She glanced at Meemaw. "You hauled a pig to Wheeling Island to make a point to a woman who's responsible for your granddaughter now finding herself ostracized from her long-time friends." She smiled. "It seems to me, and forgive me if I'm wrong, but if you were a ne'er-do-well, you would have hauled that shotgun that I'm almost positive you own to the island and threatened Ada Mae with that instead of a surly pig."

"I do own a shotgun," Meemaw admitted. "Five, in fact."

"And yet you didn't threaten Ada Mae with a single one of those, proving she's completely off the mark about you and your family, something I'm already well aware of."

Meemaw set down the coffeepot, then all but thrust the cup she'd just poured into Mr. Timken's hand and gestured toward an empty chair, which Mr. Timken immediately lowered himself into, undeniably done so because Meemaw was wearing her I-mean-business look, before she poured two additional cups of coffee and strode over to the settee Camilla was sitting on.

She gave Camilla one of the cups, then took a seat beside her and swigged a hefty gulp of coffee, her eyes immediately taking to watering, probably because the coffee was hot, not that Meemaw admitted that. Instead, she settled her now-watery gaze on Camilla.

"I believe, before you continue with how you're going to use your upcoming pretend nuptials to my grandson to everyone's advantage," Meemaw began, "you should explain exactly how it came to be that you agreed to travel to Wheeling with my grandson in the first place."

Camilla took a dainty sip of coffee and set the cup on a small table directly beside her, after she scooted aside a porcelain figure of a cherub holding flowers in its hand, then drew in a breath before she launched into the particulars of what she admitted had been a very unsettling week.

As she spoke, Owen walked to the coffee cart and poured his sister a cup, then one for himself, Meemaw having apparently been far too anxious to hear Camilla's story to get her grandchildren settled with a beverage.

He stifled a grin when Mr. Timken sent him an apologetic grimace, the butler evidently a bit too terrified of Meemaw to get out of his seat and perform duties that had undoubtedly been instilled in him for decades.

Twenty minutes later, Camilla finished with "and even though, as I mentioned, I was skeptical I'd be of much use salvaging Luella's tarnished reputation, since she did break Stanley's nose, although I'm sure it was warranted, even if a lady should never lose her temper, I've now devised a plan that will most assuredly see Luella soon finding herself in high demand."

Meemaw sat forward. "And while I'm curious to hear this plan of yours, I feel compelled to point out that you, my dear Camilla, certainly lost your temper with Ada Mae, the result of which probably has a good portion of Wheeling already aflutter regarding your impending engagement to my grandson."

"I'm afraid you're right about that," Camilla agreed, "just as I'm sure my loss of temper would severely disappoint the decorum instructors I've had over the years, as well as send the headmistress of the ladies' academy I attended into a fit of the vapors." The corners of her lips curved. "I'll have you know that I was given an award from that headmistress for being considered the most poised and proper lady who'd ever attended that school, but I may need to consider returning that award after what just transpired with Ada Mae."

"At least you didn't assault her like I did with Stanley," Luella pointed out.

"I'd have to remove myself from the Four Hundred altogether if I ever did that."

Meemaw settled back against the settee. "I'm curious about this Four Hundred you've mentioned a time or two. What is that?"

"It's merely a name Mr. Ward McAllister, who's considered the social arbiter of New York high society, came up with to describe the most influential people who travel within the upper crust." Camilla smiled. "Rumor has it that the reason Ward settled on four hundred was because that's how many people can comfortably fit into Caroline Astor's ballroom in her brownstone on Fifth Avenue. Mrs. Astor, if you're unaware, has been considered the queen of high society for years."

"And where do you fit in with this Four Hundred?" Meemaw asked. "From what your lady's maid said, you're considered one of society's leaders."

"I won't deny that I hold considerable influence within society, but that's mainly because my parents are Knickerbockers, the name given to families who first settled in New Amsterdam, what New York City used to be called. However, before you ask, no, I won't ever be in the running to take Caroline Astor's place as the leader of the Four Hundred because I'm not married, nor do I ever intend to embrace that state."

"Why not?" Meemaw asked.

"It's a very long, very dramatic story, and right now we'd be better served discussing the plan I've come up with to salvage our current situation."

Meemaw snorted. "That was an impressive attempt to avoid telling me about the broken heart you're obviously suffering from."

"I don't have a broken heart."

"How encouraging to hear you've recovered from that unfortunate state, but you and I both know that at some point in time, a gentleman treated you shabbily, hence your decision to avoid marriage."

Camilla opened her mouth, then closed it again before she reached for her coffee, took an honest-to-goodness gulp of it, then smiled, although it seemed rather forced. "The state of my former love life isn't something I care to discuss—now or ever—and besides, it has nothing to do with the important matter we need to address, that being how we're going to handle my unintended proclamation of marital intentions." She settled her gaze on Owen. "I can't very well return to New York knowing people like Ada Mae are going to use our supposed broken engagement as further ammunition against you."

"I don't care what people say about me," Owen said.

"But you care about your family," Camilla countered. "That's why, after Luella becomes in high demand, we're going to make an announcement that Beulah has made the decision to not grant us her blessing."

Meemaw paused with her coffee cup halfway to her lips. "Why would I do that?"

"Because it'll put a rapid end to the farce I unintentionally put into motion when my temper may have gotten the better of me." Camilla smiled. "You admitted that you're not shy about voicing your opinion, so you'll proclaim that you cannot in good conscience support a union between your beloved grandson and a lady who is completely unsuited for him."

It was not a good sign when Meemaw's lips pursed, she narrowed her eyes on Camilla, and then she shook her head.