Chapter 22

Twenty-Two

ONE WEEK LATER

"I'm still thinking wearing a ball gown to a dance lesson might be a tad bit excessive," Luella said, strolling into Camilla's room, where she promptly plopped down on a darling settee upholstered in pale blue, which matched the rest of the décor in a room Luella had finished decorating the day before.

Camilla turned on the vanity stool, earning a grunt from Bernadette, who was trying to arrange her hair. Ignoring the grunt, as Bernadette was always a little testy when she was in the midst of what she now called her art , she settled her gaze on Luella and smiled.

"To begin with, you're not wearing a ball gown, but an evening gown that's normally reserved for formal dinners," she began. "You also look completely stunning, which isn't a surprise because I knew that shade of green would look marvelous on you, as well as draw attention to the red in your hair, and bring out the color of your eyes."

Luella rolled the eyes in question. "My hair would draw attention even without the green since Bernadette styled it, which means of course it looks amazing. However, to point out the obvious, we're not about to sit down to a formal dinner. We're about to breeze around the ballroom for our first official quadrille lesson." She crossed her arms over her chest. "It would be much easier for me to do that breezing if you would have let me wear one of those breezy little numbers I've been pilfering from Meemaw's castoffs this week as you, Leopold, and Charles gave me and Owen early instructions pertaining to the Star Quadrille."

"I didn't balk over your questionable garment choices for dance practice over this past week because you don't need to make an impression on your brother, Leopold, or even Charles, who already finds you delightful, ratty old wardrobe and all."

"That's just because Charles appreciates my mind and enjoys discussing horticulture with me as we quadrille our way around the ballroom."

"Your mind isn't the only thing Charles appreciates," Bernadette muttered, which left Luella rather pink in the face before she cleared her throat.

"Yes, well, I have no idea what else he could possibly appreciate, but returning to what I was saying—I still think that getting me all gussied up for a dance lesson today is taking the whole turning-me-refined business a touch too far. Everyone who'll be in attendance already knows who I am, and just because I'm now looking the part of a refined lady doesn't mean I am one. I also don't believe anyone, especially Stanley, who you know I only grudgingly agreed to include after you sent me that expectant look of yours that you know how to use so effectively, will decide otherwise. It's along the same lines as if we stuffed Esmerelda into a dress and proclaimed her to be proper. She'd still just be Esmerelda, a fashionable pig, but a pig nonetheless."

Camilla got up from the stool, ignored that Bernadette was grunting yet again, even though she'd just finished with Camilla's hair, and made her way to sit beside Luella on the settee. "I seriously hope you're not comparing yourself to a pig because you're a delightful, exuberant young lady who already possesses ladylike qualities. You've merely kept them concealed over the years, probably to annoy your mother. However, do I think you'll ever embrace the role of proper lady all the time? Of course not, because that's not who you are. You'd rather be outside fishing, riding your horse, or hunting down art and furnishings over perfecting a watercolor or doing needlepoint, and there's nothing wrong with that. But since you've now taken to frowning, which suggests you don't believe me, why don't you simply tell me what's really brought on all these misgivings today?"

Luella's shoulders slumped the slightest bit. "I can't help but worry that everyone, no matter how diligent you are with shoring up my somewhat questionable manners, will see straight through me."

Camilla tilted her head. "Did you ever consider that having everyone see you dressed properly and not sporting dirt all over your face may result with them finally seeing you for who you truly are, and not the Luella they thought they knew because they've allowed your deviation from expected normalities to cloud their impression of you?"

"They're not going to change their minds about me merely because I'm wearing a pretty dress and know how to dance."

"I doubt anyone even knows how graceful you are on the dance floor because you told me you've never attended a formal ball, and the family gatherings you attend, where you mentioned you learned how to do reels and even to waltz, weren't attended by anyone other than family." Camilla smiled. "I imagine, when you and Charles take to the floor soon, every one of our guests will be amazed at how competent you already are with the steps."

"I'm only competent because you and Leopold thought it would give me a distinct advantage if I knew the steps before everyone else and have been making me practice for hours every day."

Bernadette dragged the vanity stool over and took a seat directly across from Luella. "If you're about to proclaim that dancing for hours on end in the arms of Charles has been a hardship for you, save your breath, because I've been popping in and out of your lessons and you're always smiling."

"I highly doubt I'm smiling when I'm on the floor with Owen instead of Charles, though, because my brother, if you've neglected to notice, has trampled my toes too many times to count, and given his size, it's not a circumstance to smile about."

Bernadette waved that aside. "Your brother is just as competent as you are on the floor. He merely gets distracted."

"By what?" Luella asked.

"It's more of a whom than a what as he likes to watch Miss Camilla play the piano, or..." Bernadette smiled rather slyly. "Perhaps he just enjoys watching her, no matter what she's doing."

Camilla felt heat settle on her cheeks when Luella and Bernadette both turned speculative gazes her way, but before she could think of anything to say to that, Luella sat forward.

"I've been wondering why you haven't partnered Owen even once during our lessons, especially when you clearly want Owen and me to have an advantage over the dancers who'll be arriving today for what is supposed to be everyone's first introduction to this particular quadrille. If you ask me, since you and Owen haven't practiced together, you won't be accustomed to dancing with each other and won't be nearly as competent as Charles and I." Luella gave her nose a rub. "I guarantee you if Owen gets distracted by merely watching you play the piano, he'll definitely get distracted and trample your feet once the two of you grace the floor for the first time."

Bernadette also sat forward. "I think the question of the hour is, why haven't you danced with him yet?"

In all honesty, it was a question she'd prefer leaving unanswered because . . . she'd avoided taking to the floor with Owen because he made her feel things she'd never truly felt before—fluttery things that left her slightly breathless.

She didn't like feeling all fluttery where Owen was concerned because he wasn't the sort of man she'd ever thought she'd be attracted to, but attracted she most assuredly was.

It was the oddest thing, this fascination—or perhaps it was almost a case of infatuation—she held for Owen, because after the fiasco with George, she'd truly thought she was immune to gentlemen in general, but that didn't seem to be the case with Owen.

Nevertheless, infatuated or not, it wasn't something she was willing to pursue, not when she certainly hadn't had a change of heart about endorsing spinsterhood, and besides that, Owen hadn't given her the slightest indication he was even remotely infatuated with her.

Yes, he'd presented her with daisies, an incredibly sweet gesture, until she'd had a moment alone to think about the matter and had realized that, because it was Owen, who seemed to be a man who took criticism to heart and then strove to correct whatever problem had been pointed out to him, he'd undoubtedly given her the daisies to prove that he could be romantic if the need arose, and what was more romantic than presenting a lady with flowers she'd proclaimed were her favorite?

"I think we've stumped her," Bernadette said, which left Camilla blinking back to the situation at hand, one where Bernadette and Luella were now exchanging knowing looks, as if they'd been able to read her thoughts—a concerning idea, if there ever was one.

She lifted her chin. "I'm not stumped, and there's a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why I haven't danced with Owen yet—that being I was in charge of playing the piano. It's rather difficult to dance effectively when there's no music."

"Leopold volunteered to take over for you on the piano," Luella pointed out.

"True, but if you'd ever heard Leopold play, you'd know he's not proficient when it comes to that particular instrument. I was merely sparing the state of everyone's sense of rhythm by graciously refusing his offer."

"A likely story," Bernadette said, her eyes twinkling. "In my less-than-humble opinion, I think it's more likely that Mr. Chesterfield makes you nervous, and since you're not a lady who's prone to nerves, you've avoided taking to the floor with him for as long as you possibly could." She smiled. "It'll be interesting to watch your performance with him today."

Given that she'd be dancing with Owen while surrounded by a roomful of other dancers, Camilla was relatively convinced she'd be quite capable of dancing with him exactly like she'd danced with hundreds of other gentlemen she'd taken to the floor with over the years.

"I think it's going to be interesting to watch the reactions of all the other dancers when they realize Owen and I have the advantage of already knowing the steps," Luella said, sparing Camilla a response to Bernadette's nonsense. "Frankly, I've been feeling a little guilty for our advanced instructions and have been wondering if that'll cause some ill feelings with everyone who's accepted their invitations for lessons."

Camilla waved that aside. "There's no need to worry since I would bet good money that Ada Mae, after she responded to my invitation and said she'd be delighted to play the piano for us, set about finding a dance instructor who knew at least the rudiments of the quadrille." Camilla smiled. "Mothers like Ada Mae realize the importance of these types of practices and know that they need to prepare accordingly."

Luella's brow furrowed. "Did you ever have to practice steps before going to practice?"

"Of course. I used to attend the Family Circle Dance Class, sponsored by none other than Ward McAllister, the social arbiter of the Four Hundred, but my mother always brought in my personal dance instructor before I attended a single Family Circle Dance Class practice session. Believe me when I tell you that everyone present knew the steps before the cotillion leader ever stepped foot on the dance floor."

"If you ask me," Luella began, "all this extra practice seems counterproductive, but tell me this—were you as surprised as I was that Ada Mae accepted the invitation, as well as everyone else we invited?"

"Not when I knew Sally and Curtistine would rush to the McLure House last week and immediately inform everyone that Charles, an esteemed—and need I add, available—member of the Four Hundred, is currently a guest of the Chesterfield family. Gossip about him must have spread like wildfire, and I'm sure every mother of every young lady we invited took this past week to dither over what gown their daughter should wear today."

"But if the reason these ladies accepted our invitation is because of Charles, I'm a little confused about how I'm going to miraculously become in high demand, especially when there's a very good chance, what with how I'm all gussied up, that I'm going to stick out like a sore thumb once the other ladies arrive dressed in more appropriate clothing for dance practice."

"If anything," Camilla countered, "you're going to be underdressed because, you mark my words, these ladies are going to show up wearing delectable gowns paired with, if I'm not mistaken, their best jewels."

"I am not wearing that tiara I noticed was sitting on my dressing table."

Camilla grinned. "Good, because I left that there for you to try with the gown from Worth I gave you for the ball that Bernadette's still altering. And just as a side note—tiaras should never be worn except to a ball, or to an event where you might be presented to a member of royalty, but only if it's an evening event."

"I'll keep that in mind, although I doubt I'll be entertaining royalty anytime soon, unless that Lord Shrewsbury would happen to show up."

"Lord Shrewsbury isn't considered royalty and is currently gallivanting around New York with Ward McAllister as his trusty companion," Leopold said, stepping into the room and presenting the ladies with a bow before he waved a telegram Camilla's way. "This just arrived from the Accounting Firm. Says your old beau made it to the city. He's obviously cozied up to Ward to get himself invited to all the right events once everyone travels to Newport, but the telegram says the firm has already put a tail on him, and there's no indication he's been making plans to search for you."

"Did the telegram mention anything about progress in regard to the criminals who concocted Camilla's abduction attempt?" Luella asked, rising to her feet and shaking out the folds of her gown.

"They're still working on that, which means Charles and I won't be relaxing our guard anytime soon, and Owen's men will stay on high alert as well." Leopold moved closer to Luella and smiled. "You do look delightful, my dear, but remember, you need to linger upstairs in your room until we send Bernadette to fetch you."

"I'm not really keen on making a grand entrance," Luella muttered.

"I don't blame you," Leopold said. "But Charles will be waiting for you right inside the doorway, so it's not as if you'll be on your own for long." With that, Leopold held out his arm, Luella took it, and after telling Camilla he'd meet her in the ballroom once he'd escorted Luella to her room, they headed out the door.

Knowing she needed to make her way to the first floor because there was every chance guests would arrive early, Camilla pulled on a pair of kid gloves, thanked Bernadette for arranging her hair, then hurried down the hallway and then the steps, her lips twitching when she peeked into the ballroom and found Beulah holding a paintbrush and can of paint, touching up the frame of the French doors that led to the second-story balcony.

"I don't think anyone would have noticed the few scuff marks that were left from wrestling the piano in here since they were obscured by the curtain," she said, stepping into the room and drawing Beulah's attention.

"It was bothering me that the doors got scuffed after Owen had to winch the piano up to the balcony and then had to muscle it in through doors that were barely wide enough," Beulah said, stopping mid-touchup. "Besides, obscuring the scuffs is in everyone's best interest since, even though I agreed to keep my rifle less than accessible, if Ada Mae, who is more nosy than you can imagine, saw the scuff marks and remarked on them, I couldn't be held responsible if my rifle suddenly appeared, or if Esmerelda suddenly gained access to the house—by accident, of course—and then decided, on her own, with no encouraging from me, to have a go at Ada Mae."

"I've taken the liberty of relocating the three rifles you brought with you today, Meemaw," Owen said, stepping into the room and drawing Camilla's attention, as well as a sharp intake of breath because the man was wearing one of his new suits, and to say he did justice to it was an understatement.

Drawing in another breath in the hopes of calming a heart that was turning all fluttery again, Camilla tore her attention away from a man who was definitely distraction-worthy and settled it on Beulah, who was looking rather disgruntled.

"May I assume you also relocated Esmerelda?" Beulah asked.

Owen grinned. "Of course, as one of the purposes of these dance lessons is to bury the hatchet with the Murchendorfers, but speaking of hatchets, I also removed the hatchet from your wagon, since our mission today would be a complete failure if that happened to come out."

"Spoilsport" was all Beulah said to that before she gave the doorframe a last dab of paint and then sailed out of the room, saying she was off to freshen up and would meet them at the front door momentarily.

"She doesn't seem too thrilled with you right now," Camilla said, taking the arm Owen held out to her while ignoring the additional fluttering her heart began doing the second she got a whiff of his cologne.

"Thrilled isn't a state Meemaw embraces on the best of days, but Mr. Timken sent me to fetch you because Nems sent word that carriages are already moving up the drive. That means further talk of Meemaw and her surly disposition will need to wait."

Exchanging a grin with him, Camilla soon found herself standing in the entranceway, Mr. Timken having assumed the role of butler, something he'd been doing for the past week after he'd mentioned to Owen that he was at loose ends because his chaperoning skills weren't in demand anymore, what with how Leopold and Charles were constantly accompanying her.

Owen, being a far more thoughtful and astute gentleman than she'd given him credit for at first, had evidently realized that, not only was Mr. Timken at loose ends, he was also itching to do something productive, especially when the lackadaisical running of the household was straining the state of Mr. Timken's nerves. Owen had then presented a proposition to the butler, one where Mr. Timken would take on the daunting task of whipping his house into shape. Mr. Timken hadn't hesitated to accept the proposal, telling Camilla more than once that resuming his role as butler had gone far to restore the state of his nerves.

"Prepare yourself because Ada Mae and her children are coming up the steps," Mr. Timken said before he opened the door with a flourish, bowing Ada Mae, Sally, and a young gentleman Camilla assumed was Stanley into the room. Camilla stepped forward to greet them, with Owen at her side a second later.

"How lovely," Ada Mae exclaimed, her gaze traveling around the entranceway before she proffered Owen her hand, which he dutifully kissed before he shook Stanley's hand, although given that Stanley immediately took to wincing, it was evident Owen was still put out with the man who'd insulted his sister and might have taken to gripping Stanley's hand a touch too firmly.

"You must be Stanley," Camilla said, abandoning every etiquette rule there was by introducing herself but seeing no other option, given that Owen still had ahold of Stanley's hand and there was every chance Stanley was going to be sporting a few bruises soon.

"You must be Miss Pierpont," Stanley said, tugging his hand from Owen's grasp and settling his attention on Camilla, his eyes widening a second later. "My goodness, but I see the rumors are true. You're quite lovely."

It was not an encouraging sign when Owen immediately released what almost sounded like a growl.

"Thank you, Mr. Murchendorfer," Camilla said with an inclination of her head. "I have to admit that I've heard quite a few rumors about you as well."

"Those weren't rumors," Beulah said, stealing up beside Camilla and narrowing her eyes on Stanley, quite like Owen was currently in the process of doing. "Dare I presume you're intending on addressing those rumors at some point today, as well as making amends?"

Stanley looked to Camilla, then to Owen, then back to Beulah. "I'm certainly not opposed to speaking with your granddaughter to mend some fences, although if anyone needs to do some mending, it's Luella. She did, after all, break my nose."

"Mother's waving for you to join her," Sally said, giving her brother a none-too-gentle nudge in the direction of Ada Mae, who wasn't actually doing any waving since she'd moseyed away from the receiving line and was currently inspecting one of the paintings Luella had recently hung on the wall.

Obviously realizing he'd just been given the perfect excuse to remove himself from what was certainly now a hostile environment, both Owen and Beulah staring at him with fire in their eyes, Stanley muttered his excuses and headed off in Ada Mae's direction.

"You'll have to forgive my brother," Sally began. "He's still incredibly sensitive about his nose, probably because it now has just the tiniest dent in it, but enough about noses." She extended her hand to Owen, dipped into a curtsy after he kissed it, then turned to Camilla but paused mid-dip when her gaze settled on something over Camilla's shoulder.

"I say, is that Mr. Wetzel over there by the staircase?" she asked.

Camilla turned and nodded. "It is."

Sally craned her neck. "I don't see Luella anywhere yet."

"She'll be along directly."

Sally was suddenly all smiles. "I'm so looking forward to seeing her again, but while we wait for her to make an appearance, I think I'll go and keep Mr. Wetzel company."

As Sally strolled away, Camilla turned and found a line of guests waiting to enter the house, their excitement regarding their invitations to a special quadrille lesson almost palpable.

The next fifteen minutes were spent being introduced to everyone Camilla had not yet met, such as Martha Wellington and Clarice Colleens, two young ladies who'd been close friends with Luella before the pond incident, and who both seemed nervous to have been invited to participate today, their inclusion a direct result of Luella insisting their names be added to the guest list.

After Martha and Clarice wandered over to join Charles and Sally, Curtistine made an appearance, as well as Pauline Zavolta, who merely sent Owen a sniff when he presented her with a bow before she stalked off. Next in line were Mr. Jeromy Witman and Mr. Thomas Stanford, two of Stanley's friends who'd been at the pond that dreadful day, both men perspiring ever so slightly as they greeted Owen, acting quite as if they were worried they were going to be called on the carpet then and there for their abysmal behavior.

To Owen's credit, besides giving the two men what had obviously become his signature firm handshake of the day, which left the men grimacing, he'd welcomed them into his home, then encouraged them to have a look around, which they didn't hesitate to do, practically bolting down the hallway in their quest to get away from him.

"Your restraint was rather impressive," Camilla said, a grin tugging her lips.

"You said I wasn't allowed to be anything but gracious today, and you even wrote down a list of appropriate things I was allowed to say while greeting guests. Challenging someone to a duel unfortunately failed to make that list."

"Of course it did, but I might need to revisit that list and be even more specific, or give you a refresher course on graciousness in general, since you did growl at Stanley and almost maimed Mr. Witman and Mr. Stanford's hands, but other than that, good job."

Owen sent her a grin before he turned to the next guest and welcomed the young lady dithering on the threshold into his home.

Once every guest had been greeted, Camilla took Owen's arm, and together they followed everyone up to the ballroom, Camilla taking a few minutes to disclose who everyone was partnering with, ignoring the grumbles of a few ladies when she stated that Luella would be partnered with Charles.

Any lingering grumbles came to a rapid end, though, when Luella swept into the room, apparently forgetting that she was supposed to linger in the doorway to allow everyone an opportunity to see her since she headed straight for Charles, who immediately excused himself from speaking with Sally and Curtistine and strode to join her.

Camilla couldn't resist a smile when Charles took hold of Luella's hand, kissed it, then held it for a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary, her smile widening when Charles withdrew a lily from an inside jacket pocket and tucked it into the elaborate chignon Bernadette had assembled, the ease with which he did so suggesting he might have very well practiced a few times to make sure his gesture went off perfectly.

"I don't remember that being part of the plan," Owen grumbled beside her.

"It wasn't."

"Can't say I appreciate Charles gazing so adoringly at my sister."

"I don't believe that was planned either, but before you go off and relocate those rifles you hid of Beulah's, what say we get the lesson started."

Owen shot a look at Luella. "Maybe I should partner my sister."

"You're supposed to be almost engaged to me, so ... no."

Owen blinked. "I almost forgot about that."

"I suggest you remember because we'll hardly find success with our plan if anyone notices us not behaving like an almost-engaged couple."

"I'm not actually certain how almost-engaged couples are supposed to behave."

"They normally behave as if they're dying to sneak off and steal a few kisses together," Camilla heard pop out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

The corners of Owen's mouth quirked. "That was not what I was expecting you to say."

"I wasn't expecting me to say that either, but as a former matchmaker, I have plenty of experience with almost-engaged couples, and I cannot tell you how many times I had to intercede with couples who were simply meandering across a room one minute and then ... they were just gone. I once found a couple gazing longingly into each other's eyes in an ice room, which, if you ask me, wasn't the most romantic of places to hide, what with how chilly it was."

"I better not discover Charles and Luella in any ice rooms, but..." Owen frowned. "Do you think we should make plans to sneak off together so no one gets suspicious?"

It was quite telling when Camilla found the mere idea of sneaking off with Owen a little too appealing.

She shoved that nonsensical idea straight to the farthest recesses of her mind and summoned up a smile. "While that would probably be more than amusing since I get the impression you're probably as good as I am in the acting department, which I'm not good in at all, I don't believe sneaking off will be necessary. Even if we were engaged, we're a more, well, mature couple, and no one expects mature couples to be completely enamored with each other."

"It's not as if we're that mature, and certainly aren't at our last prayers."

Camilla blinked. "I hope you weren't under the impression I was saying I thought you wouldn't be capable of being enamored of a lady. I just thought our age gave us a ready excuse not to turn all stealthy and then force poor Mr. Timken to come after us."

"You think he'd come after us?"

"And with Beulah's shotgun."

"Huh" was all Owen said before he surprised her with a wink. "Meemaw might try to intercept Mr. Timken if she noticed us heading for a quiet place since she's convinced we're perfect for each other."

"Then let's agree we won't try to convince everyone we're almost engaged by seeking out one of those quiet places, because I'm not sure Mr. Timken would win in a match against your grandmother."

"He admitted to me just yesterday that Meemaw still scares him half to death, so I suppose that means I'll agree to no meeting up for a feigned rendezvous, whether that would have been amusing or not."

"Then it's officially agreed upon—no feigned rendezvous," Camilla said as all sorts of thoughts went tumbling through her mind—ones that centered around all the things she knew couples got up to when they stole away, one of those things being kissing, something she might have, a time or two, or twenty, been considering of late.

Owen gave his tie a bit of a tug before he stilled, his gaze settled on something across the room. "Would you look at that—Stanley looks like he might be considering doing some of that throttling you've mentioned you'd like to do to me at times."

Camilla directed her attention to where Stanley was standing with a group of his friends, but he wasn't paying attention to any of them. Instead, he was squinting at Charles, his jaw clenched and his color high.

It took a rather herculean effort to resist a laugh. "I think we might find success with Luella far sooner than I was anticipating, although I'm going to have to put you in charge of making sure Stanley doesn't try to go after Charles."

"What a way to put a damper on an evening."

"Please. You know you wouldn't let Stanley have a go at Charles, even if you think he's being far too attentive to your sister."

"I'm sure you're probably right."

"Probably?"

He blew out a breath. "Fine, I wouldn't, however I doubt there'd be a reason for me to get involved if Stanley would be such an idiot to try to engage Charles in an altercation because, even with Charles being an authentically refined gentleman, he's a man who can take care of himself and would dispatch Stanley in about a second, something I wouldn't mind seeing."

"But then Beulah would get involved, and then her rifle would come out, no matter that you hid them from her or not, and then a good old-fashioned feud would definitely come into play."

Owen frowned. "Why do you think Meemaw would whip out her rifle if Stanley tried to have a go at Charles?"

"Beulah adores Charles and will take it as a personal affront if anyone tries anything with him while under a Chesterfield roof."

"My grandmother adores Charles?"

"She's been trying to get him to agree to learn how to bake pies, or more specifically, one particular apple pie."

"That recipe is taking on a life of its own," Owen muttered.

"Indeed, but..." Camilla stopped talking when she spotted Ada Mae strolling up to join them.

"Forgive me for interrupting, but I was wondering if I could have a word with you, Miss Pierpont, regarding the song selection. I've practiced all week with the sheet music you were kind enough to send to me, but I have a question about the timing of a particular stanza."

Telling Owen she'd rejoin him momentarily, which Owen responded to by whispering something about seeing her in an hour, which left her grinning and Ada Mae's brow arching, Camilla took the next few minutes to go over the arrangement with Ada Mae, then walked to the center of the ballroom and called for everyone to join her.

As the partners paired up, all of them seeming somewhat familiar with where they were supposed to stand, Camilla decided there was no use showing everyone the steps since she had the sneaking suspicion everyone already knew them. Instead, she nodded to Ada Mae, who placed her fingers over the keys and began to play.

After dipping into a curtsy while Owen presented her with a bow, then glancing over her shoulder to ascertain that Luella and Charles were alright, which they most assuredly were since Charles, instead of merely bowing to Luella, had hold of her hand again and was placing a kiss on it, Camilla turned front and center, pressing her lips together when she noticed Owen was, unsurprisingly, scowling once again.

She leaned closer and lowered her voice. "We might need to plan out a feigned rendezvous after all because as a former matchmaker, I can tell you that it's a rare sight indeed for a gentleman who is almost engaged, and who's supposed to be somewhat smitten with his intended, to scowl in such an intimidating fashion."

Owen's scowl was gone a second later, replaced with a smile, and a second after that, he was whisking her around the other couples in a complicated step, but she didn't linger on the fact that the week of dance practice had obviously paid off, what with how he was more than accomplished on the dance floor. Instead, she found herself lingering on the surprising realization that their steps were perfectly matched even though they'd never danced together.

As Owen led her through a series of twirls, her mind began to spin quite as fast as her feet because the thought sprang to mind that Beulah might not be so wrong after all and that she, Miss Camilla Pierpont, confirmed spinster by choice, may have finally, and quite unexpectedly, met her match.