Chapter 4

Four

Even though Camilla normally wouldn't consider sponsoring a lady their own brother called "a bit of a handful," she'd still felt compelled to agree to hear more of the particulars about this Luella because ... she'd been raised to present herself to the world as a lady possessed of unwavering composure, but that composure had gone missing the moment she'd encountered Mr. Owen Chesterfield.

Granted, it hadn't been completely beyond the pale when she'd leveled her derringer on him because she'd truly believed he was a threat. However, she'd then lost her temper, something she prided herself on always maintaining, when she'd taken him to task over the whole "little lady" business. If there was one thing that had been instilled in her by her many governesses and decorum instructors, it was this: A lady never lost her composure because doing so was considered common—a trait true ladies avoided like the plague.

A lady was also expected to exude a dignified and serene air at all times and was never to lend anyone the impression she was annoyed. That was evidently an area she needed to improve upon since, not only had Mr. Chesterfield remarked on her exasperated state, but Lottie had also mentioned she'd taken note of an irritated expression on Camilla's face, and frequently at that.

Her decorum instructors, if they'd witnessed her blatant deviation from the rules of proper behavior, would have immediately resorted to rummaging around their reticules in search of smelling salts, and she certainly couldn't have blamed them. The blatant deviation from rules that had been her constant companion from practically birth was exactly why she hadn't refused Owen's proposal on the spot, but had, instead, agreed to speak with him further about the matter, but only after she'd had an opportunity to change out of a riding habit that had been dripping water all over the polished marble floor, another serious breach of ladylike behavior.

"Would you like a short jacket to wear over your morning gown, Miss Pierpont?" Bernadette Millersport, a woman who'd recently stepped into the role of Camilla's lady's maid, but only temporarily, asked as she placed one last pin into the chignon she'd been arranging. "You're bound to still be chilled after your immersion in the river, especially when you refused to allow me to draw you a bath."

Given the distinct trace of disgruntlement in Bernadette's tone, it was clear the woman was still put out that Camilla had not taken her advice and climbed immediately into the tub to stave off any possible ill effects that might result from taking a plunge into incredibly frigid water.

Frankly, it was a novel experience having a lady's maid who didn't hold her opinions in check, especially when Camilla was accustomed to being seen after by Miss Donovan, a reserved woman who rarely expressed personal opinions, and who'd been her lady's maid from the time Camilla started wearing long skirts until a scant month before.

Miss Donovan, after accompanying Camilla to Paris for a brief shopping excursion, had barely stepped foot into the Pierpont residence on Fifth Avenue before she'd received an urgent mes sage informing her that while she'd been gone, her mother had suffered an accident and needed round-the-clock care while she convalesced.

There'd been no question that Miss Donovan would be given an extended leave of absence—with pay, of course—and after seeing her off at the train station, Camilla had returned home, intent on contacting an employment agency to fill the lady's maid position until Miss Donovan returned.

She was spared the bother of that, though, after discovering that Bernadette had recently been hired as a kitchen assistant for the Pierpont household. It turned out that Bernadette was more of a hindrance in the kitchen than a help. But, as luck would have it, according to Mrs. Barney, Camilla's longtime housekeeper, Bernadette had mentioned during the hiring process that she'd once spent time at a theater off Broadway. She'd evidently been responsible for dressing actresses before their performances, as well as assisting them with their hair, experience Mrs. Barney felt might make Bernadette the perfect substitute for Miss Donovan. Mrs. Barney also thought turning Bernadette into a temporary lady's maid might go far with soothing the tender sensibilities of the Pierpont chef, who'd been threatening to quit on a daily basis because of Bernadette's ineptitude in his kitchen.

Not wanting to lose a chef who turned out spectacular dishes, Camilla had agreed to Mrs. Barney's suggestion, but only after having Bernadette style her hair to ascertain she had some talent in that area, which, thankfully, the woman certainly possessed.

But while Bernadette was more than competent with arranging hair, as well as getting Camilla dressed, she was also the most forward employee Camilla had ever met, an attitude she wasn't accustomed to, but one she'd decided to tolerate since it wasn't as if Bernadette would be in the position long.

"Have you changed your mind about the bath?" Bernadette asked, drawing Camilla from her thoughts.

"Of course not," Camilla said, rising from the vanity stool and shaking out the folds of her ivory-colored morning gown. "I can hardly leave Mr. Chesterfield lingering about in the parlor for the length of time it would take me to bathe and change again. However, since you're evidently concerned I'm going to come down with a cold if I don't take a bath at some point this morning, know that I'll be happy to climb into the tub after my meeting with him."

Bernadette frowned. "On second thought, I doubt you'll come down with a cold, and not taking a bath until this evening will spare me the bother of undressing and then redressing you again."

Camilla refused a sigh. "It would at that."

Leaving her lady's maid saying something about the bath matter being settled, Camilla made her way to the grand staircase that led to the main floor, stepped into the back parlor a few moments later, and found Mr. Timken and Owen standing by a floor-to-ceiling window, engaged in conversation. She cleared her throat, drawing Owen's attention.

"Ah, Miss Pierpont, there you are," he said.

"Why do I get the distinct impression you wanted to add a finally to your sentence?" she asked as she glided across the room and settled into a chair upholstered in a delicate shade of blush pink.

"But I didn't add a finally, which suggests I'm valiantly striving to avoid annoying you again," Owen said, which left her lips twitching ever so slightly.

After accepting a cup of coffee from Mr. Timken, Camilla took a sip before she tilted her head. "It only took me a mere twenty-five minutes to change, a monumental feat if there ever was one, but one undertaken because you mentioned you needed to return to Wheeling posthaste."

"You were gone twenty-nine minutes to be exact, and twenty-nine minutes is not what I'd consider returning momentarily, which is how long you told me it would take you to change."

"What would you consider momentarily?"

"Less than five minutes."

"I can barely get my gloves off in five minutes, and I would think, since you told me you have a sister, that you're more than familiar with how long it takes a lady to change."

"Luella prides herself on being able to change in five minutes flat."

"She must have one extraordinary lady's maid."

"She doesn't have a maid."

"Why not?"

"She doesn't think they're necessary, although I believe her original decision to refuse the services of a lady's maid was a direct result of my mother hiring Flora when Luella turned fourteen. Flora made it a habit to report to Mother anytime Luella did something questionable, which, unfortunately, was quite often."

Camilla took another sip of coffee. "Ah, so your mother hired Flora to not only dress your sister but keep an eye on her."

"Something I never considered, but I wouldn't put it past Mother to have hired a spy in the form of a maid, given how Luella and Mother shared a somewhat acrimonious relationship back in the day."

"You might want to ask your sister about that, but tell me this—how does Luella manage to get dressed without the services of a maid, and so rapidly at that?"

"She seems to prefer wearing frocks one can simply toss over one's head."

"And she prefers those ... why?"

"I think it has something to do with her aversion to what she calls ‘unmentionables.'" Owen shook his head as he took a seat across from her. "I'm not sure what unmentionables she was specifically speaking about, but she's apparently opposed to most of them. She's vowed to never stuff herself into garments she's convinced are harming her, ah, parts, or attach a birdcage to her behind for the sole purpose of achieving a certain silhouette." He gave his nose a scratch. "I wasn't aware birdcages were an option for ladies to wear, but before I forget, I should also mention that Luella has an extreme aversion to bows."

Camilla fought a grin. "I believe Luella was referring to bustles, which can occasionally be similar to birdcages, and seeing as how I get the impression your sister is around eighteen, she should have an aversion to bows."

"Luella's nineteen, almost twenty, but why should she be opposed to bows?"

"Bows should be reserved for young girls, not ladies who've come of age."

"Huh..." Owen said before he frowned. "Sally Murchendorfer wears bows all the time, and she and Luella are of the same age."

"Is your sister friends with this Sally Murchendorfer?"

"Luella currently loathes the entire Murchendorfer family, except perhaps Sally's father, Mr. Russell Murchendorfer, who isn't around much."

"Which might explain the extreme bow aversion." Camilla set aside her cup. "Tell me more about this loathing for the Murchendorfer family."

Before Owen could do exactly that, Mr. Timken walked over to her and handed her a small plate of cheese. "This should hold you over until lunch, Miss Camilla, but if you'll excuse me? Mr. Chesterfield and I were making arrangements for your safety while you were changing. I need to see if the footman I sent to summon the authorities has returned." After presenting Camilla with a bow, Mr. Timken turned and headed out the door.

"I almost forgot about the attempted abduction," Camilla admitted.

"I'm not surprised since ladies normally don't care to dwell on unpleasantness."

Camilla paused with a piece of cheese halfway to her mouth. "I don't believe anyone, ladies or gentlemen, care to dwell on that."

"Perhaps, but gentlemen are far more likely to respond to unpleasant business, whereas ladies, well, that's why you have gentlemen around, and why you don't need to worry your pretty little heads with such matters."

After sticking the piece of cheese into her mouth in an effort to avoid the dressing-down she longed to give the insufferable man, Camilla made a point of chewing for an incredibly long time as she strove to get her renewed irritation in check.

"Got a hard piece of cheese, did you?" he asked.

She swallowed and summoned up a smile. "Not at all."

"Why are you smiling at me?"

"I normally make it a practice to smile at guests."

"But the smile you're currently wearing isn't what I'd consider a pleasant one, and almost suggests you're..." His voice trailed off as he frowned, considered her for a moment, and sat forward. "You're not put out with me again, are you?"

She kept her smile firmly in place. "I suppose that depends on if you were deliberately trying to annoy me when you said I didn't need to worry ‘my pretty little head' about unpleasant matters, or if you're merely oblivious regarding why I'd take issue with your current choice of phrase. If it's the second reason, I can now fully understand why, as you mentioned, you have trouble with the ladies."

He blinked. "I hear other men saying ‘don't worry your pretty little head' all the time, and if you ask me, there's no reason for a lady to take offense at that, particularly when the phrase has the word pretty in it."

"And while ladies don't take offense at the word pretty , the whole ‘little heads' business is what's wrong with the phrase, since it suggests we ladies don't have much in the way of intellect."

"Huh, well that certainly explains why Miss Doreen Morrison abandoned a fishing excursion I took her on after I told her she didn't need to worry her pretty little head over taking her fish off the hook because I'd do it for her."

"Glad I could clear that up for you."

He nodded. "You did, and thank you for that because I never have been able to puzzle out what I did wrong that day. I'll now refrain from using that phrase again, but returning to ladies not knowing how to handle a difficult situation—I feel compelled to remind you that you're the one who said you'd forgotten about the abduction event, whereas I'm the one who remembered and took steps with Mr. Timken to assure your safety."

"Are you now expecting me to present you with a medal for that?"

To her surprise, his lips quirked. "For a lady who claims to be the picture of serenity, you're very prickly."

"I've never been prickly in my life."

"And before I'm tempted to argue with that, no doubt incurring more prickliness from you, allow me to move the conversation to safer territory and simply tell you about the safety precautions Mr. Timken and I have arranged for you."

Camilla opened her mouth to argue with that nonsense, realized she might actually be a little prickly at the moment, so closed her mouth and settled for sending him a nod, something that left him grinning.

She opted to not address the grin, stuffing not one but two pieces of cheese into her mouth instead, which was yet another serious breach of proper etiquette, but definitely left her incapable of voicing a prickly remark since her mouth was so full.

"Where was I?" he asked.

It was more than annoying when she couldn't immediately answer, what with all the cheese in her mouth. Finally, and after a great deal of rapid chewing, she inclined her head. "I believe you were about to explain the safety precautions you and Mr. Timken have put in place."

"Quite right, and I'm sure you'll be relieved to learn that besides summoning the authorities, we've organized your staff, sending footmen out to patrol the perimeters of your estate until the authorities arrive."

Camilla frowned. "You think those would-be abductors might try again?"

"You're an heiress, Miss Pierpont, and holding heiresses for ransom is lucrative business." He leaned forward. "I'm curious, since you must be aware there are threats to you out there, why you were riding without the benefit of a guard."

"The Hudson Valley is the one place I've always felt safe, unlike the city, where I have guards who shadow me anytime I step foot out of the house."

"I'm afraid the Hudson isn't safe for you any longer."

"I'm afraid you're right, which means I can now expect the small bit of freedom I've enjoyed here to disappear as soon as my father learns about the particulars of what happened today."

"He should hear about those particulars soon, as Mr. Timken instructed the footman who was sent after the authorities to also send your father a telegram."

Camilla's shoulders slumped the slightest bit. "Then I expect Father will board his yacht the second he gets that telegram, just as I expect I'll soon find myself imprisoned in this gilded cage I call home minutes after he lands in the Hudson Valley."

Owen glanced around the room. "I can think of worse places to be imprisoned."

"True, but since the mere thought of having my activities severely curtailed is rather unsettling, why don't you tell me more about your sister and why you want me to take her in hand."

"What would you like me to tell you about her?"

"How it came to be that she turned into a bit of a handful."

He drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair. "I suppose that all started when she turned sixteen and my mother began making plans for her debut."

"Luella didn't want a debut?"

"I don't think she was opposed to that at first—until Mother learned that Ada Mae Murchendorfer was intending on holding a debut ball for her daughter, Sally."

"The lady who has a fondness for bows?"

"Indeed." Owen shook his head. "Mother and Ada Mae always seemed to be in competition with each other, and Mother evidently decided Luella's debut ball couldn't be overshadowed by Sally's ball. That's when things turned a little concerning, and then turned downright alarming when Ada Mae decided to hold her ball on the same night Mother had chosen for Luella's."

"Did Ada Mae decide that on purpose?"

"I would say ... probably."

"Sounds like there was more than just competition going on between your mother and Ada Mae."

"I never considered that, but you might be right," Owen said. "However, once Luella discovered what Ada Mae was intending, she flatly refused to have a debut, which sent Mother into an agitated state, one that didn't dissipate until my parents made the decision to go on an extended holiday to Paris."

"Did they decide that because of Luella's refusal to make her debut?"

"I believe it had more to do with my father's weak heart. Mother, you see, was concerned Father's heart might suffer an acute attack after she decided that the manor house they were building in the country needed a few modifications to the original design."

"Why would he have an acute attack over that?"

"Because our second home was supposed to be a simple farmhouse until Mother learned the Murchendorfers were building a grand manor house a few miles away. Father, wanting to appease Mother's agitated state, agreed to allow the architect to modify the plans, but Mother had a hard time deciding exactly how the house should be modified, which was causing Father some agitation as well." He shrugged. "Mother apparently realized at some point that she might be bringing on Father's imminent demise, and decided the only option to protect his heart was to leave the country. She then left me in charge of completing the house, and then, after Luella flatly refused to leave our beloved grandmother and threatened to jump overboard if our parents insisted she travel on holiday with them, left me in charge of Luella."

Camilla frowned. "How long have they been on this holiday?"

"About two years," Owen said. "Mother adores Paris and has taken to painting along the Siene, and somehow convinced Father he loves to paint as well. From their letters, they spend their days with their easels set up, and then enjoy dining in Parisian restaurants most nights. Since Father hasn't had a single episode with his heart since they arrived in France, Mother's decided they're going to stay there for the foreseeable future."

"Which is lovely for your parents, but have you told them about the difficulties you're experiencing with your sister?"

"And have them board the first ship available and return home? Absolutely not." He blew out a breath. "Frankly, I thought Luella would return to her normal delightful self after Mother wasn't around to badger her, but she now seems convinced that my sole purpose in life is to make her miserable, arriving at that decision after I made the mistake of suggesting we hold a small party for her instead of a ball." He shook his head. "In my defense, though, I was under the misimpression she wanted to make some type of debut because every other young lady of the same age was doing exactly that, and I didn't want her to feel left out."

"Is that why you want me to take her in hand—to convince her to allow you to host that party for her because you're still worried she feels left out?"

"I think the whole launching Luella into Wheeling society is a ship that's firmly sailed." He released a sigh. "However, given what recently happened to my sister, I'd like to bring you on board to help her become more refined, which might help her regain her pride, something Stanley Murchendorfer recently harmed."

"This Murchendorfer name seems to be coming up often, and if I were to hazard a guess, I'd guess this Stanley Murchendorfer is a relation of Ada Mae and Sally Murchendorfer."

Owen nodded. "Your guess would be correct since he's Ada Mae's only son and Sally's brother, but he's a scoundrel of the worst sort, who, regrettably, masqueraded as Luella's good friend for years."

"I'm surprised you didn't intervene when your sister began associating with a scoundrel."

"Stanley wasn't always a scoundrel. That's a recent development," Owen said. "He's three years older than Luella, and because the Murchendorfer home on Wheeling Island is adjacent to our home there, he and my sister used to roam the island together throughout their youth."

"Luella didn't prefer roaming around with Sally?"

"Sally doesn't roam, but Stanley, on the other hand, enjoys the same activities Luella does. That's why they spent hours together in their youth." Owen rose to his feet and moved to look out the window. "I was always aware they were good friends, but what I didn't know until recently was that they had an understanding between them, one that lent Luella the impression they'd always be together."

"As in married?"

"Indeed, and apparently after Stanley finished college."

"Should I assume Stanley recently completed his studies?"

"Their timeline got disrupted after Stanley's father, who owns Murchendorfer Stogies, a prominent cigar factory in Wheeling, insisted his son take a grand tour of Europe after graduation."

"And something unfortunate happened when Stanley finally returned from his tour?"

"Quite right, because Stanley, you see, couldn't even be bothered to send Luella a note informing her of his return. She had to hear it through the staff grapevine because, while we own a house on Wheeling Island, which again, is directly next to the Murchendorfer house, Luella prefers to stay at our grandmother's cabin that's located not far from the country house that's just recently been completed. According to Mrs. O'Connel, our part-time housekeeper, she noticed Stanley walking through the neighborhood. Knowing how much Luella had been looking forward to reuniting with him, Mrs. O'Connel sent a message to her. Luella didn't hesitate to jump on her horse and canter right on down to Wheel ing Island, apparently taking a shortcut to get there, which had her arriving at Stanley's house covered in mud and looking, from what Luella admitted to me, somewhat bedraggled. Unfortunately, Stanley's mother had arranged for an afternoon soiree, which was in full swing by the time Luella, who'd not been invited, arrived."

Owen raked a hand through his hair. "Luella was then told by the Murchendorfer butler to wait on the front porch, not even given the courtesy of being allowed into the entranceway. She apparently lingered there for a good twenty minutes before Stanley showed up. From what I understand, Stanley immediately launched into a tirade, telling my poor sister that it was ‘beyond the pale' for her to arrive unannounced at a gathering she'd not received an invitation to. He then demanded she leave and return to our grandmother's cabin, telling her he'd call on her in a day or so to discuss the subject of their friendship more thoroughly."

"Did he show up within a day or so?"

"It took him two weeks to pay a call, during which time Luella never said a word to me about what happened. When Stanley finally mustered up his courage, he tracked Luella down at her favorite creek, obviously done so because he's terrified of our grandmother, and informed my sister that he'd matured during his time away and that he'd been fortunate to glean an air of sophistication while traveling throughout Europe. That sophistication evidently had him realizing that he could no longer associate with the likes of Luella because she, according to Stanley, gave new meaning to the term unrefined . He then told her that he couldn't afford to be seen in her company anymore because she was an embarrassment and would ruin his chances of cementing his status within Wheeling society."

Owen shook his head. "Luella, evidently still cherishing Stanley's friendship, responded to all that idiocy by informing him that she could easily transform herself into a most refined young lady. After she was done telling him that, though, events took a somewhat disastrous turn because Stanley's reply to Luella's heartfelt declaration was to laugh."

"He didn't," Camilla breathed.

"Oh, I'm very much afraid he did."

"What was Luella's response?" Camilla forced herself to ask.

"She punched him."

Camilla blinked. "Surely you meant to say she slapped him, didn't you?"

"Luella wouldn't waste her time delivering anyone a mere slap, Miss Pierpont," Owen admitted. "And because I may have shown my sister the rudiments of boxing a few years back, she knows her way around a good punch, so ... she broke Stanley's nose."