Chapter 13

Thirteen

"I have no idea why you'd be opposed to withholding your blessing on what is merely a clever bit of fiction I conjured up after Ada Mae annoyed me," Camilla said, returning the whole narrowing-of-the-eye business Meemaw was still sending her way.

"I'm opposed because I'm not one for telling fibs," Meemaw shot back. "I'd have to spend a week on my knees, asking the Lord's forgiveness, if I were to proclaim I found you unsuitable for Owen, and my knees aren't what they used to be."

"It wouldn't be a fib because Owen and I aren't well-suited for each other."

"And to that I say hogwash," Meemaw countered. "You two are very well matched indeed."

"How could you have arrived at that conclusion when you just met me?"

Meemaw lifted her chin. "You didn't hesitate to rush to defend the honor of the Chesterfield family. That told me everything I need to know about you."

"No, it didn't."

"What else do you think I should know?"

Camilla crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, since you seem keen to embrace this nonsensical notion that Owen and I would make a wonderful match, allow me to simply say that, as a former matchmaker, I've spent years becoming adept at reading signs that lead to successful matches. Believe me when I tell you that I haven't met my match in Owen, and he certainly hasn't met his match in me."

"Why not?"

"I can't speak for your grandson, but I have, and frequently at that, not that this speaks highly of my character, felt an almost irresistible urge to throttle the man."

Meemaw's eyes began to gleam. "But that's wonderful."

"You find it wonderful that I want to inflict bodily harm on your grandson?" Camilla asked.

"It suggests the two of you could very well be experiencing that enemies-to-something-delightful scenario that authors often write into their romance stories."

" You read romance novels?"

"I read everything, dear, which has opened up my world and lent me invaluable insight into this troublesome condition we call being human."

"Owen and I aren't intertwined in a plot from a romance novel."

Meemaw turned to Mr. Timken, who was watching the exchange with lips that were definitely twitching. "You obviously know Camilla far better than I do. Care to express your opinion about her suitability for my Owen?"

"As Miss Pierpont's butler," Mr. Timken began, "I seldom, if ever, voice personal opinions, at least to anyone outside the family. That tends to tarnish the established formalities butlers are expected to adhere to."

"Ah, so you agree with me but are choosing to keep your thoughts close to your chest. A prudent move." Meemaw nodded to Owen. "I believe this is the point in the conversation where you convey to Camilla how wise I am, and that she should simply accept that I've decided the two of you will see your engagement through to a wedding. That will then allow both of you to experience those happily-ever-after moments that are also written about often in those books I enjoy."

Owen couldn't help himself—he laughed, sobering up when Meemaw leveled a glare on him. He cleared his throat. "Since Camilla just disclosed that she's dreamed about throttling me, and often at that, I think I'll adopt Mr. Timken's stance and keep my opinions to myself."

Evidently undaunted, Meemaw quirked a brow Luella's way. "What do you think about a match between Owen and Camilla?"

"I think it's somewhat thought-provoking that Camilla owned up to her desire to harm Owen, given that she's been raised to be a proper lady." With that, Luella rose to her feet, moved to the coffee cart, and began slicing up pieces of Meemaw's famous apple pie.

"I wouldn't say there's anything thought-provoking about my desire to occasionally throttle Owen," Camilla argued. "Especially not when he doesn't seem to have to put much effort into frequently exasperating me."

Luella slid a slice of pie onto a glass plate that had been crafted in one of the local glass factories before she nodded. "Owen does make it a habit of garnering irritation from the feminine set, that most recently seen when he procured the ire of Miss Curtistine Longerbeam."

"There's no need to revisit the Miss Longerbeam situation," Owen muttered.

Camilla leaned forward. "I disagree, since I'm now brimming with curiosity to hear all the gory details, but before we get to those—her name isn't truly Curtistine Longerbeam, is it?"

Owen pressed his fingers to a temple that was beginning to throb. "You only want to hear about Curtistine—and yes, that is her name—because you're trying to distract Meemaw from focusing on a relationship she's convinced is genuine and not a figment of your imagination. However, since I don't relish revisiting unpleasant circumstances from my past, I don't feel compelled to appease that curiosity of yours, no matter if that decision leaves you with another urge to throttle me or not."

"This Miss Longerbeam didn't actually try to throttle you, did she?" Camilla asked.

"I believe I'm simply going to adhere to my statement about not enjoying revisiting unpleasant circumstances from my past and leave it at that."

After sending him a look that suggested he'd managed to irritate her yet again, Camilla turned to Luella. "It seems it's going to be up to you to explain all about Miss Longerbeam, so ... did she resort to throttling your brother?"

"I'm sure she at least contemplated throttling after she somehow concluded that, because Owen asked if she, along with her parents, wanted to accompany him to view his new project underway up by our country house, that he was intending on showing her the initial plans for another house he was beginning to build, one she assumed he was building for her."

"Why would she assume that?" Camilla asked, catching Owen's eye.

"Hard to say," he admitted.

"Had you been spending a great deal of time with Curtistine?"

"Define ‘a great deal.'"

"More than a few outings."

He shook his head. "I'm going to say no because I only went to dinner with her twice, but her parents were included as well, and before you ask, no, I didn't specifically ask her to dine with me. Her father had recently put in a lucrative order for nails, and I thought treating the whole Longerbeam family to dinner would be seen as a gesture of appreciation."

Camilla frowned. "Did you specifically tell Mr. Longerbeam that you wanted Curtistine included?"

"I think I said something when I extended the first invitation about how nice it would be if Mrs. Longerbeam and their daughter could join us."

"And the second invitation?"

"Well, Mr. Longerbeam had returned to the nail factory, you see, telling me he was there to place another order, and then..." Owen tilted his head. "He mentioned how much Mrs. Longerbeam and Curtistine enjoyed our previous dinner, so I offered to host dinner again."

"And it never occurred to you that Mr. Longerbeam may have put in another nail order, and then broached the dinner idea, because he and Mrs. Longerbeam were hearing wedding bells on behalf of their daughter?" Camilla asked.

"It was just dinner."

"It's never just dinner when a young lady with marital prospects on her mind is involved."

"Considering Curtistine is friends with Miss Pauline Zavolta, a lady who literally crosses the street if she sees me coming, it never occurred to me that Curtistine would ever turn her eye on me as a potential suitor."

Camilla frowned. "Why not?"

"Because it's not a secret that Pauline has mentioned to all her friends that I'm a cad."

"Because...?"

"I think the answer to that falls under the whole I-don't-care-to-revisit-unpleasant-situations."

It was hardly surprising when Camilla began tapping out a rapid tattoo with the tip of her dainty shoe, but when she took to narrowing her blue eyes on him as the toe-tapping increased, he set aside his coffee and blew out a breath.

"Fine. If you must know, Pauline Zavolta believes I'm a cad because of an unfortunate riding incident we didn't enjoy together."

Camilla blinked. "I've never heard of a man being accused of caddish behavior during a riding excursion."

"There's always a first time for everything," Owen muttered. "But I had the best of intentions when I offered to take Pauline Zavolta riding. She'd suffered a mishap on her horse a few months prior to our conversation, and because of that, she was nervous about riding again. I offered to help get her back in the saddle, but my good intentions turned into a complete fiasco after Pauline met me in my stables." He shook his head. "The second I got Pauline situated on top of Clementine, the gentlest horse I own, she started sobbing, although I got the distinct impression her sobs were somewhat rehearsed."

"You thought she was feigning her distress?" Camilla asked.

"Pauline is known to be overly dramatic," Luella interjected. "She thrives on attention and uses tears to persuade people, especially gentlemen, to get what she wants."

"Ah, I see," Camilla said before she sent a nod Owen's way. "As a matchmaker, I've seen all sorts of convoluted situations set up by young ladies hoping to achieve a certain result from a gentleman they've set their sights on. If I'm not mistaken, in your particular case, this Pauline wanted to set the stage so that she could enjoy a hero moment, one where she probably imagined you sweeping her from the saddle a second after she started sobbing, enfolding her in your strong arms, and giving her consoling pats on the back. However, I get the distinct feeling that's not what happened, so what did you do instead?"

It was oddly satisfying to learn Camilla had taken note of his arms, and apparently thought they were strong, and...

A loud clearing of a throat from Luella had him blinking out of his wandering thoughts, then blinking again when he realized he'd completely lost track of the conversation. "What was the question again?"

"I asked what you did when Pauline started sobbing," Camilla said as Luella began watching him a little too closely.

His collar suddenly took to feeling a tad too tight. "Ah, well I clearly didn't give her one of those hero moments, because instead of sweeping her into my strong arms, I told her that equestrians had no business weeping when they were in the saddle because a rider should always keep their wits about them for obvious safety reasons."

Camilla's eyes twinkled. "Definitely not a hero moment, but may I assume her tears immediately dried up after you told her she had no business weeping?"

"Too right they did, which suggests she really wasn't in distress in the first place, but before I could comment on that, Pauline hopped to the ground, called me a monster, and stalked off. I was then paid a visit by her father, Albert, who informed me that, although I was one of the wealthiest men in the state, I wasn't to even consider courting his daughter from that point forward because Albert would never want his little precious to be involved with a brute like me." Owen sat forward. "And that is exactly why I wouldn't have thought Curtistine, who, again, is friends with Pauline, would have ever turned a romantic eye in my direction."

"But you sat with Curtistine's family during a church service not long after taking the Longerbeams out to dinner," Luella pointed out after she handed Meemaw a slice of pie.

"Only because Curtistine was lingering by the entranceway of the church and invited me to sit with her family since I arrived late to the service and there was limited seating available."

Camilla eyed him over the rim of her coffee cup. "You do know that sitting with a specific young lady at church lends the impression a gentleman has courting on his mind, don't you?"

Owen blinked. "Does it really?"

"You didn't know that?"

"How could I know that?" Owen asked. "It's not as if there's a manual out there that states all these little everyday occurrences that women apparently take to mean they're being courted."

Camilla set aside her cup. "Perhaps I should consider penning such a manual because I never realized gentlemen could be so na?ve about such matters."

"And maybe I should write a manual as well because calling a gentleman na?ve isn't exactly what I'd consider proper manners, especially coming from a lady who once won a prim-and-proper award."

A widening of the eyes was Camilla's first response to that. "I must beg your pardon, Owen, because you're exactly right. That was a most improper thing for me to say, and I truly have no idea what's wrong with me lately since I don't normally make a point to insult people."

"There's nothing wrong with you, dear," Meemaw said before Owen could do more than blink at what had certainly been an unexpected admission. "You're obviously already more than comfortable with my grandson, which has allowed you to unbutton that cloak of propriety you've clearly been keeping buttoned up for far too long—something that's incredibly telling, if you ask me."

"The only thing that's telling is that I've clearly taken leave of my senses," Camilla argued before she turned to Owen. "But to return to the Longerbeam situation, if you didn't have courting on your mind, why did you invite the entire Longerbeam family to accompany you to view whatever it is you're in the process of building, which I'm going to assume isn't a second house?"

Owen gave his jaw a rub. "My invitation was merely a result of Mr. Longerbeam having mentioned over that second dinner how much he enjoys fishing. Since I'm in the process of damming up a stream to make a fishing pond, I thought he'd find the damming process interesting. I also thought, since the dam is located quite a distance up National Road, that he might like to make it a family event so he'd have company during the trip up and back."

He rose to his feet and took the plate of pie Luella was holding out to him. "Unfortunately, Curtistine completely misread the situation once she and her family arrived at the dam. She somehow came to the conclusion that I possess a romantic nature simply because I'd set up a picnic luncheon for everyone to enjoy."

"What happened next?" Camilla asked.

Owen handed Camilla the slice of pie before he retook his seat. "I think we should just leave it at she misread the situation because the rest of the story is somewhat embarrassing."

Camilla arched a brow toward Luella. "What happened?"

Luella didn't hesitate to grin. "Curtistine took one look at the charming picnic scene, raced up to poor Owen, wrapped her arms around his neck, told him that of course a house would be perfect by the pond, and then asked if he was agreeable to holding a late-summer wedding."

Camilla was suddenly directing her arched brow his way. "I hope you're about to tell me that Luella is mistaken."

"She's not," Owen admitted. "And after I untangled myself from Curtistine, I'm sure you won't be surprised to learn that what should have been a pleasant afternoon spent by my pond turned anything but pleasant, especially after Mr. and Mrs. Longerbeam began extending me their heartiest congratulations, and I ... well, I think I may have stammered something about an enormous misunderstanding, and then ... the conversation went downhill from there." He blew out a breath. "The Longerbeams haven't spoken to me since, and Curtistine has added her name to the very long list of ladies who evidently believe I'm some type of fiend."

Camilla frowned. "I imagine there were hard feelings when you apparently rejected what almost seems like a proposal from Curtistine, but I'm not certain I understand why she thought you were building her a house. From what you've said, you already have a house in the country, so why would you build another one?"

"I think she assumed we'd want to have our own house once my parents returned from France."

"I thought you mentioned your parents weren't intending on returning to the States anytime soon."

"Oh, they're not, especially since, according to Mother's letters, they're relishing their lives in Paris and don't miss Wheeling in the least."

"That's not true," Meemaw said. "Your parents will abandon Paris in a heartbeat once they learn about your upcoming engagement, and to a New York socialite at that." She settled a knowing eye on him. "You know your mother, dear. Betty Lou won't be able to resist the opportunity to crow about her son managing to get himself engaged to a proper lady, one whose social status will certainly be the envy of every lady of ambition throughout Wheeling."

"You do recall that I'm not actually engaged to your grandson, don't you?" Camilla asked.

Meemaw waved that straight away. "Betty Lou won't need to learn that until after she returns home, but I have no qualms about using your supposed engagement as a way to finally get my son and daughter-in-law back to the States."

Owen paused with a piece of pie halfway to his mouth. "You can't send them a telegram telling them Camilla and I are engaged because, qualms or not, that would be a fib, and you told Camilla you never lie. Think of the state of your knees if you send a telegram like that."

"It's not a lie, simply a craftily disguised small untruth."

Owen opened his mouth, an argument on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed that argument when Luella sat down beside Meemaw and took to fiddling with a strand of her wet hair before she blew out a sigh.

"I think, if you're going to send any telegram at all, it should be one that explains what's been happening with Stanley," Luella began. "It wouldn't be fair to Mother to not know that her daughter has disappointed her yet again, or fair for Mother to hie herself back to West Virginia when we're all but in the midst of a feud with the Murchendorfers, a family Mother's been in competition with for years."

Meemaw frowned. "You've never been a disappointment to Betty Lou."

"Of course I have," Luella argued. "Mother wanted a princess for a daughter—a little girl who loved ribbons in her hair and fancy dresses with bows on them—but instead she got me. I loathe ribbons and bows. I also loathe spending my time indoors, working needlepoint samplers, something Sally Murchendorfer spends hours doing every week. Sally also enjoys going for tea and shopping, whereas I much prefer spending my time outside, doing things more suitable for a boy than a girl."

"Surely you don't believe your mother makes it a point to compare you to Sally and then finds you lacking, do you?" Meemaw asked.

"Mother spent three days in her bedroom after Mrs. Murchendorfer decided she was going to hold Sally's debut on the same night Mother had chosen to hold mine." Luella gave a sad shake of her head. "It doesn't take a genius to understand why Mother locked herself away, because Sally has always been more sought-after than me, which meant that everyone would attend Sally's debut, and mine would be a complete failure."

"People would have shown up for your debut," Meemaw argued.

"Well, yes, our entire family would have been there, but you know that's not who Mother wanted to impress." Luella began fidgeting with her wet hair again. "I've been holding off writing her about Stanley because that'll just be another disappointment for her, as will be the idea I've decided to embrace life as a spinster."

"There's no need for you to become a spinster," Meemaw countered. "Camilla's here now, and I believe she mentioned she has a plan."

"It's been so long since I broached that plan, I almost can't recall what it is," Camilla admitted as she took a sip of her coffee.

Luella's brow furrowed. "This plan of yours doesn't have anything to do with you using those matchmaking skills you apparently possess, does it, because I really am fine proceeding with life from this point forward as a confirmed spinster."

"Whether you choose to marry or not is completely up to you," Camilla said. "I'm not here to meddle with that part of your life but merely to get you accepted within Wheeling society, or at least reclaim your confidence to where you won't decide to hide yourself away in your grandmother's cabin."

"I like Meemaw's cabin."

"You can't spend the rest of your life there."

"I can if I decide I don't like this plan of yours."

Camilla smiled. "It's not a complicated plan, and, in fact, it's one I've already used to great success." She finally took a bite of the pie Owen had given her a few minutes before, her eyes widening a second later. "Goodness. This is a most excellent apple pie."

"It's a secret family recipe," Meemaw said right before her eyes began gleaming in a somewhat concerning fashion. "I'll be more than happy to present you with the list of ingredients at my earliest convenience."

Camilla paused with another forkful of pie halfway to her mouth. "Why would you give me a secret family recipe?"

"Because you said you find the pie to be most excellent."

"I'm sure everyone finds this pie to be excellent, but again, you said it's a secret family recipe, which suggests you don't share it with just anybody."

Meemaw smiled. "But you're not just anybody, are you, dear?"

"If you were going to add that I'm your almost-granddaughter-in-law, you can just nip that comment right in the bud. So, to direct the conversation back to what we should be discussing, on to my plan."

"I'd rather put talk of that on hold while I just nip into the kitchen and get you that recipe before I forget."

"And I'm going to say that can wait since I'm beginning to grow more than suspicious about this recipe and why you're so determined to get it into my hands."

Owen bit back a grin when Meemaw began muttering something about suspicious natures, mutters that Camilla blatantly ignored as she set aside her pie.

"The basics of my plan are quite simple," she began. "From what I've been able to gather thus far, there seems to be quite the competition amongst Wheeling ladies to reach the pinnacle of the local societal ladder. All we have to do now is use my unexpected declaration about being almost engaged to Owen to our advantage."

Luella frowned. "How do you intend to do that?"

"Since Bernadette told Ada Mae that I'm a leader within New York society, it stands to reason that every lady possessed of social ambition is going to want to become my new best friend." She smiled. "And given that Ada Mae is certain to tell a few ladies, who will then tell a few additional ladies, that I'm all but engaged to Owen, I can guarantee that everyone will be clamoring to invite the Chesterfield family to all their events."

"I doubt my name will be on any of those invitations," Luella argued.

"And you would be wrong about that. You mark my words, within the next few weeks, those friends of yours who've been only too eager to join in with making you persona non grata will most assuredly reach out to make amends. That means by the time that ball rolls around in June, you'll already be firmly established as a lady in high demand and my task here will have been accomplished."

Luella tilted her head. "You think I'll become in high demand simply because of my association with you—my supposed soon-to-be sister-in-law?"

"I do."

Satisfaction flickered through Luella's eyes. "Excellent, since that means I won't need to concern myself with wasting my time becoming refined, something I wasn't looking forward to doing anyways, as I have other more important and pressing matters to attend to."

"I'm afraid those pressing matters will need to take a back seat for a while, since there's no question you'll still need to put a great deal of effort into learning how to become refined," Camilla said.

The smile slid from Luella's face. "Why?"

"Because everyone is going to expect me, your soon-to-be sister-in-law and a member of the New York Four Hundred, to take you in hand."

"Why?"

"Because they'll assume I have certain expectations when it comes to presenting myself, and, by association, soon-to-be family members, to the world. That means a Luella transformation is definitely in order."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that," Luella muttered.

"Which is unfortunate since my plan is nonnegotiable, but if it makes you feel any better..." Camilla turned to Owen. "As I just mentioned, everyone will expect me to take your entire family in hand, although I'm not ridiculous enough to even suggest that to Beulah. You, on the other hand, are a different story, which means you'll need to prepare yourself for a bit of a transformation as well—and no, that's not negotiable either."