Chapter 6

Six

"Would you look at that," Bernadette exclaimed, batting her lashes Owen's way at a downright remarkable speed. "I seem to have unintentionally ruined your sleeve, but no need to fret because I'm a more than proficient seamstress. If you'll excuse me, I'll just nip up to my room and fetch my sewing basket. I'm sure you'll be relieved to learn that I have the skills that will see that fine suit jacket of yours returned to tip-top shape in a jiffy."

Given that Owen was now looking quite like a poor deer caught in the lantern lights, it was obvious that an intervention was in order.

Swallowing the oddest desire to laugh, that urge undoubtedly a direct result of the fact her day was becoming more peculiar by the second, Camilla lifted her chin and marched across the room. She took a second to snatch up Owen's tattered sleeve, which, given its abysmal condition, would never be able to look in tip-top shape again, before she inserted herself between Owen and Bernadette, having to resort to giving her lady's maid a none-too-subtle nudge to get her to step aside.

Bernadette immediately sent Camilla what could only be described as an injured look.

"Was there anything else you needed, Bernadette?" Camilla asked, ignoring the look.

"I wouldn't be opposed to an introduction to this delightful gentleman."

Having never had a maid ask for an introduction to anyone before, Camilla frowned, but before she could summon up any type of response, although what she could possibly say was beyond her, Owen presented Bernadette with a bow.

"I'm Mr. Owen Chesterfield."

Bernadette dimpled and dipped into a curtsy. "And I'm Miss Bernadette Millersport, Miss Pierpont's lady's maid, but know that I have every intention of becoming a famous actress, which is far more impressive than being a maid."

"My grandmother once had ambitions to tread the boards, but she came to her senses and married my grandfather instead."

Bernadette went from smiling to scowling in the span of a heartbeat. "There's nothing wrong with becoming an actress."

Owen blinked. "I don't recall saying there was."

"You implied that your grandmother would have taken leave of her senses if she'd chosen acting over marrying your grandfather."

Knowing the conversation was only going to go downhill from there, Camilla cleared her throat, drawing Bernadette's attention.

"I'm sure what Mr. Chesterfield intended to say was that he's certain you'll make a wonderful actress, but your future aspirations aside, weren't you telling me earlier that there are only so many hours in a day and that you don't think you have enough time to get everything ready for our departure to Newport?"

Bernadette frowned. "Is that your way of telling me you'd like me to get back to work?"

"You're the one who said you're having difficulty getting my clothing in order for the summer Season."

"Anyone would have difficulty with that since ladies are apparently expected to change seven to ten times a day, which, over an eight-week span of time, translates to hundreds of pieces."

"I can always ask Lottie to assist you."

"And leave her concluding I'm not up for doing my job? Absolutely not." Bernadette released a sniff. "I'm perfectly capable of getting everything ready, but before I get back to the grind of packing up your many, many outfits ..." She stuck her hand in her apron and pulled out an envelope. "I almost forgot to give this to you. When I went above and beyond my job requirements by opening the front door when the lawmen arrived, there was a telegram boy standing with them. He gave me this to give you." Bernadette thrust the envelope at Camilla. "You'll notice I didn't open it."

"I would hope not, since it's addressed to me," Camilla said before turning to Owen. "This is probably a response from my father regarding this morning's events. I'm sure the contents will revolve around his insistence that I don't leave this house until he's made proper arrangements for my safety, but there's no need for you to wait around while I read through it and then write out a response to send back to him."

"Will those arrangements include having the Pinkertons brought on to investigate matters?" Owen asked.

Camilla shook her head. "We have connections with a private investigative company known as the Accounting Firm in the city. They'll most assuredly be hired by Father to provide me with twenty-four-hour surveillance until the matter is resolved, something I willingly admit I'm not looking forward to."

Owen's lips suddenly began to curve. "You wouldn't have to contend with round-the-clock protection if you agree to my proposal, because I doubt anyone would expect you to take off for West Virginia. It's not exactly known as a state that members of the Four Hundred clamor to visit."

"An interesting point," Camilla conceded.

"I believe what you meant to say was it was an intriguing concept," Owen countered. "But to make it even more intriguing, know that there would be no need for you to worry about your safety. I would personally handle all the details surrounding that, and I'm more than capable of standing between you and any danger that may arise."

Before Camilla could muster up a response to that, Bernadette was back to fluttering her lashes, paired this time with a bright smile that was, of course, directed at Owen, her annoyance over his acting comment evidently a thing of the past.

"Not that I know much about what this proposal of yours might entail, Mr. Chesterfield, although I did overhear a little when I was, ah, lingering outside the door, but I think having Miss Pierpont travel to ... I believe you said West Virginia, would be the perfect solution to keep her safe." Bernadette's smile turned brighter than ever. "I know, as Miss Pierpont's lady's maid, that she'll surely descend into a state of moroseness if she's forced to remain sequestered because of threats against her. However, since you've offered to protect her—and make no mistake, I have a feeling you know your way around how best to protect a lady—I think it's a plan Miss Pierpont will definitely want to accept. And, just to be clear, if you can convince her to do exactly that, know that I'll be traveling with her."

It wasn't much of a surprise when Owen began looking like a deer in the lantern lights again, and Camilla couldn't blame him, not when her lady's maid was behaving completely beyond the pale.

"I believe it's time for you to return to your duties, Bernadette," she began, "and no, you won't need to start packing us up to travel to West Virginia because, while Mr. Chesterfield's idea has merit, I won't be accepting his proposal."

She ignored the frown Bernadette was now leveling on her and turned to Owen. "Thank you again for rescuing me today, but now I believe it's time for us to part ways, although know that I do wish you well with your sister."

He considered her for a long moment before he presented her with a bow. "You're welcome for the rescue, but I won't claim I'm not disappointed by your decision, although ... would you reconsider if I offered to pay above and beyond your usual fee for sponsoring young ladies?"

"I don't charge a fee."

"Huh."

She smiled. "You weren't expecting that, were you?"

"Can't say I was, but..." He tilted his head. "Do you not charge a fee because you look at sponsoring young ladies as a remedy for that ennui you apparently suffer from?"

Her smile faded just a touch. "You're very astute, aren't you, Mr. Chesterfield?"

"I tend to notice things, and then I tend to think about those things, which is why I'm now wondering if that ennui might start plaguing you more than ever once your normal activities are curtailed and you're placed under twenty-four-hour surveillance."

"Besides being astute, you're also evidently tenacious, and while that's a solid argument to advance your desire to get me to West Virginia, I'm sorry, but no. I really do need to decline."

He blew out a breath. "Then I suppose there's no need to keep badgering you. But if you happen to change your mind, I'm off to give a statement to the sheriff about my take on this morning's event, although I doubt that'll take me long."

"I won't change my mind since I don't believe I can successfully help your sister, nor do I want to give her false hope by even attempting to take her in hand."

"And I think you're selling yourself short, but it's not my place to continue arguing with you since I certainly don't want us parting on prickly terms."

"I'm not prickly."

Owen's lips twitched. "Of course you're not."

He presented her with another bow, did the same to Bernadette, who responded with another onslaught of fluttering lashes, then quit the room.

"You've clearly taken leave of your senses," Bernadette said a mere second after Owen disappeared from sight.

"And you've clearly forgotten, or you're unaware, that it's a serious breach of expected behavior to flirt outrageously with guests."

Bernadette blinked. "I wasn't flirting. I was merely being friendly."

"You kept fluttering your lashes."

"That's what lashes are for, but..." Bernadette frowned. "If you thought I was being flirty, why didn't you say something?"

"I wouldn't have wanted to embarrass either you or Mr. Chesterfield. Besides, conversations such as the one we're currently holding are best held privately."

Bernadette's brow furrowed. "None of my other employers ever hesitated to take me to task, or flat-out fire me, if they thought I was doing something wrong, so allow me to thank you for not embarrassing me."

"You're welcome, and may I dare hope that you'll now keep your flirting with guests in check?"

"Mr. Chesterfield didn't seem like he was a guest."

"True. Perhaps I should have hoped you'd agree to keep flirting in general in check."

"That might be expecting too much, but before I give you time to think up something else to hope for that I won't be capable of accomplishing, I should take my leave."

As Bernadette headed for the door, Camilla turned her attention to the telegram in her hand. After opening the envelope, she glanced over the message, having to read it a second time for the contents of that message to actually sink in.

Unfortunately, it was not from her father, as she'd expected, but from Gideon Abbott, her dear friend and also a partner at the Accounting Firm.

A dull throb settled at the base of her neck as she read the telegram through yet again, this time out loud.

LORD SHREWSBURY EN ROUTE TO NEW YORK STOP

DIVORCED HIS WIFE STOP

SUSPICIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES STOP

HE'S A THREAT TO YOU STOP

LEAVE NEW YORK STOP

ADDITIONAL EXPLANATIONS SOON STOP

I'LL BE HOME IN THREE WEEKS STOP

GIDEON STOP

"Are you alright?"

Camilla lifted her head and found Lottie standing a few feet away, watching her closely.

In all truthfulness, she didn't know how to respond because George Sherrington, or Lord Shrewsbury if one wanted to properly address a man who was an earl, was the gentleman Camilla had fallen madly in love with when she'd made her debut eight years before.

He was also the gentleman who'd shattered her heart and left her vowing she'd never marry.

There she'd been, all of seventeen, and surrounded by gentlemen who'd flocked to her side the moment she'd stepped foot into the Patriarch Ball, her mother brimming with satisfaction when one gentleman after another declared that Camilla was certainly going to be deemed the Incomparable of the Season.

Introductions had commenced with far too many gentlemen to count, all begging to add their names to her dance card, but any interest in those gentlemen disappeared the moment she clapped eyes on George.

He'd been standing across the room beside Mrs. Martin Barsdull, an esteemed society matron, but he'd not been directing his gaze at that lady—he'd been gazing at Camilla.

Her very breath had mired in her throat, and the entire room faded away except for George because he was the most handsome gentleman she'd ever seen.

Before she could prepare herself, he was walking across the room with Mrs. Barsdull, who immediately performed an intro duction, and then ... George presented her with a bow, kissed her gloved hand, and claimed her first dance of the night.

It was the first of many dances over the next three weeks.

Society, of course, immediately took note of Lord Shrewsbury's interest in her, and what a delightful interest it had been.

He'd been charming and lavished outrageous compliments on her, and because she'd been fresh out of the schoolroom, she'd completely lost her head. When he'd whispered in her ear at the Belmont Ball that he was utterly in love with her, she'd known he was the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with and had been thrilled when he told her he was going to ask her father for her hand in marriage.

Her father, Hubert Pierpont, had been anything but thrilled.

Hubert had spent a mere five minutes speaking with George before he'd seen him for exactly what he was—a fortune hunter, one of the many aristocrats who'd come to New York in search of an heiress to plump up their coffers and rebuild their crumbling country estates.

Her father had refused George's request for Camilla's hand and explained to the earl in no uncertain terms that if George tried to convince Camilla to marry him without Hubert's permission, he wouldn't receive so much as a cent from the dowry Hubert had settled on his one and only daughter.

George had then been escorted out of the house by Mr. Timken and four burly footmen, a circumstance that sent Camilla, who'd been blatantly eavesdropping through an adjoining door, stomping into the room to confront her father.

It was the first time Camilla had ever displayed even an inkling of temper to anyone in her family, as well as the first time she'd ever openly rebelled against her father. She'd told him in no uncertain terms that she and George didn't need a dowry and that she was going to marry the earl with or without his blessing.

Regrettably, when she'd met up with George later at another ball, he'd not been exactly keen to run off with her. Instead, he'd taken hold of her hand, kissed it, then explained how his mother—without his knowledge, of course—had arranged for him to marry another lady and, being an honorable gentleman, he had no recourse but to see the marriage through, especially when notices had already been sent to all the papers.

If that hadn't been bad enough, George then told her that she was the absolute love of his life, would always be the love of his life, and he would be forever bereft without her . . . right before he wandered away to take to the floor with Miss Eleanor Deerhurst, the lady he was now going to marry.

At the time, Camilla, being young and incredibly na?ve, believed George truly did love her, and because of that, and because she was heartbroken and furious with her parents, she'd made a vow to never marry, no matter that she was her parents' only child and the Pierpont bloodline would end with her.

With time, she'd come to realize exactly what her father had been trying to save her from. George truly was a fortune hunter, as well as a coward, because he'd been unable to tell her the truth—that her fortune had been her greatest appeal and he'd never loved her.

Even realizing she'd been duped, she'd never changed her mind about marrying again as she'd never been able to forget the pain George had put her through.

That was why it was more than troubling to learn that George was heading back to New York—as a divorced man, no less—especially when it seemed, from what she could conclude about Gideon's telegram, that George was coming back to New York for ... her.

Frankly, there was a part of her—the strong, self-assured part—that wanted to confront George, tell him exactly how much she despised him and what a cad he was, but the other part of her, the part that had suffered unwarranted humiliation after he'd cast her aside, wanted to never encounter the man again, especially not when there was a possibility, however slight, that she might decide to try her hand at that throttling business she'd been contemplating with Owen.

Ladies were not supposed to physically throttle anyone, no matter if she would have gleaned a great deal of satisfaction from trying her hand at that with George.

"What's wrong?" Lottie asked again, pulling Camilla from thoughts that were leaving her somewhat queasy.

She gave herself a bit of a shake and summoned up a smile. "Nothing."

Lottie rolled her eyes. "Please. You're white as a ghost." She nodded to the telegram. "Is your father intending on hiding you away, something I know you're probably dreading?"

"It's not from my father. It's from Gideon."

"He's back from Europe?"

"He'll be back in about three weeks."

Lottie took a step closer to Camilla. "May I assume he sent you troubling news, maybe something to do with the men who tried to abduct you today?"

"It's highly unlikely Gideon's been apprised of that circumstance yet since he's in England, although..." Camilla stilled when a thought sprang to mind. "It might be, given the cryptic nature of his message, that he's uncovered some dastardly plan Lord Shrewsbury has in mind for me, perhaps one that revolves around my attempted abduction."

"Who is Lord Shrewsbury?"

"He's a fortune hunter who broke my heart when I was seventeen when he married another woman. According to Gideon, Lord Shrewsbury has now divorced."

"And Gideon wanted you to know those details because...?"

"Lord Shrewsbury is on his way to New York, and Gideon, for some reason, believes he's a threat to me and has told me to leave the city."

"Ah, Gideon thinks this Lord Shrewsbury is coming back for you—or, more likely, your fortune."

"How did you arrive at that?"

Lottie shrugged. "When you're involved with the criminal underworld for years, you begin to think like criminals. From what you've said, it stands to reason that Lord Shrewsbury would only seek out a divorce, something that's not exactly common, if he'd gone through his wife's fortune and needs another one. However, since he previously chose another woman over you, it's likely he's afraid you won't be keen to welcome him with open arms, so he's probably plotting out ways to secure your cooperation—abduction possibly being one of those ways, which means the idea I've arrived at regarding this morning's events is off the mark."

"What idea?"

"The one where you weren't the target—I was. And the man behind the attempt being Victor Malvado, who we both know was interested in bringing me into his criminal enterprise after Frank got carted off to jail."

"I didn't even consider Victor Malvado."

"I didn't either until I was taking a bath. But Victor's more feared in the city than Frank was, and we did hear those rumors before we repaired to Paris that he wanted to acquire me since I know how to read and Frank found that useful with his underhanded business deals."

Camilla took a second to gather her thoughts. "It appears to me," she finally said, "as if we have no choice, since we both could be in danger, except to heed Gideon's suggestion and get out of New York." Her lips quirked ever so slightly. "As luck would have it, we have the perfect place to hide."

"West Virginia?"

"Indeed, which means we need to gather our things posthaste because Mr. Chesterfield mentioned he wants to depart from New York as soon as possible, and I now have every intention of being with him on that train bound for Wheeling."