Chapter 9

Nine

Knowing any further delving into Luella's disregard for grooming habits in general was not going to endear him to Camilla—not that she seemed overly endeared by him in the first place, although she had sent him that lovely smile on the train—Owen was spared an attempt at changing the topic, which probably wouldn't have been successful anyways, when Bernadette strolled up to join them.

It came as no surprise when Camilla's lady's maid immediately settled her attention on Edward right before a commencing of lash fluttering began.

"You didn't mention a thing about a gentleman meeting us at the station," Bernadette murmured as she smiled at Edward, which earned her a bit of a sigh from Camilla.

Before Camilla could get anything but a sigh past her lips, though, Gladys suddenly bounded forward, yanking Camilla into motion, the poodle's attention focused on something across the train yard.

"I'll be back," she called over her shoulder, Owen moving to pursue her but stopping when he caught sight of Mr. Timken dashing across the train yard, dodging passengers left and right and finally catching up with Camilla when Gladys abruptly plopped to the ground, her tongue already lolling out. A second later, Camilla was handing poor Mr. Timken a handkerchief, which he promptly put to use to dab his forehead as Camilla did the same with a second handkerchief she pulled from her sleeve.

He couldn't help but wonder if that was normal, keeping so many handkerchiefs at the ready, and if it was, he also wondered if handkerchiefs might turn into a bit of an issue with Luella because she usually never had one available when she needed it, let alone several. Truth be told, he'd seen her wipe her forehead, and occasionally, her nose, with her sleeve, something he had a feeling Camilla was going to have a problem with.

"Seems like Gladys tuckered herself out," Bernadette said before she glanced Owen's way. "Gladys aside, though, I imagine you were probably getting ready to introduce me to your friend before we were interrupted with the peculiarities of Miss Pierpont's neurotic poodle."

It came as no surprise when Bernadette shifted her attention to Edward and the batting of lashes immediately commenced again. Knowing the only way to get past all the batting was to introduce Edward to a very unusual lady's maid, Owen turned to his friend. "Edward, allow me to present Miss Bernadette Millersport. Bernadette, this is a good friend of mine, Mr. Edward Stevens."

"Charmed, I'm sure," Bernadette said, extending her hand to Edward, a tinkle of laughter escaping her when he pressed a kiss to her fingers.

"Of course I'm charmed, Miss Millersport, and—" Edward suddenly stopped talking as his gaze drifted past Bernadette and settled on Lottie, who'd moseyed up to stand behind Bernadette. "Who's that?" Edward all but whispered, which was a rather unusual thing for him to do since he wasn't really a whispering type of gentleman.

The smile on Bernadette's face disappeared in a trice as she shot a look at Lottie, but it was back in place a second later when she returned her attention to Edward. "This is Lottie McBriar," she said. "She's Miss Pierpont's companion. Lottie, this is Mr. Edward Stevens."

Edward released Bernadette's hand and stepped toward Lottie, who was in the process of dipping into a curtsy.

Oddly enough, instead of acknowledging Lottie's curtsy with the obligatory bow, Edward merely stared at her, his mouth slightly agape, not saying a single word as what could only be described as a dazed expression settled on his face.

Before Owen had an opportunity to figure out how to snap Edward out of what appeared to be some type of stupor, Camilla glided up beside him, no longer tethered to Gladys, who'd apparently been remanded to Mr. Timken's care. Camilla's gaze drifted from Edward to Lottie, back to Edward, then to Bernadette, who now had her arms crossed over her chest, an honest-to-goodness scowl on her face.

Why Bernadette was scowling at his best friend was curious to say the least, but before he could contemplate that curiosity further, Camilla stepped closer to Edward and gave him, much to Owen's surprise, a soothing pat of her gloved hand.

"Mr. Stevens," Camilla began with a lovely smile, something that left Owen feeling somewhat dazed as well, although Edward didn't notice the smile since his attention was still riveted on Lottie, "now that you've made the acquaintance of everyone in our traveling party, except for Mr. Timken, my butler and stand-in chaperone, would you be so kind as to show us to the carriages we're to use, as well as perhaps assist us with moving our portmanteaus from the Pullman car to a wagon?"

Edward gave himself a bit of a shake, tore his gaze from Lottie, and turned to Camilla. "There's no need for you to concern yourself with your trunks, Miss Pierpont. I've already arranged a wagon for them, as well as brought men to help load and then unload everything once we reach Owen's home on Wheeling Island, then reload everything when you travel to his country home tomorrow."

"How wonderfully efficient of you, Mr. Stevens, but wouldn't it have been even more efficient if we went directly to the country house?"

"Owen wasn't certain what time you'd arrive in Wheeling, given the mechanical difficulties you experienced with the train. He sent me a telegram telling me everyone would spend tonight on the island because, while the country house is only about four miles out of Wheeling, the roads are somewhat questionable to traverse after dark."

"Perfectly understandable," Camilla said before she took hold of Edward's arm, another surprising move, and tugged him into motion, saying something to the effect that she'd be more than happy to assist him with arranging the logistics of the ride as she strolled away, but not before Owen could have sworn she sent him just a hint of a wink.

He was still pondering the wink ten minutes later as he found himself, not astride his stallion, George, who'd been unloaded five minutes before from the livestock car, but sitting on the seat of a carriage opposite Camilla, George having been tethered to the wagon that was now packed with trunks. Following that wagon was a carriage holding Bernadette, Lottie, Mr. Timken, and Edward, who seemed just as surprised as Owen had been that he was apparently going to escort them home.

Owen braced himself when Camilla sat forward and felt more than confused when he took note of a very unusual twinkle in her eyes.

"Tell me everything you know about Edward," she surprised him by saying.

"What?"

"Edward," she repeated. "What can you tell me about him?"

"You arranged for us to be in a carriage alone together so that you could ask me about Edward?"

Camilla frowned. "Why else would I have arranged our present circumstances?"

"I thought you wanted to press me further about Luella's questionable grooming practices."

"I think her aversion to combs told me all I needed to know about that." Her brows drew together. "You didn't realize I'd want to discuss Edward?"

"How could I have realized that?"

"I made a point of winking at you before I went off with Edward to assist with logistical arrangements."

"And I was supposed to know that wink meant ... what exactly?"

She released a sigh. "That Edward's obviously smitten with Lottie, and that I was going to arrange matters so that he'd have an opportunity to spend additional time with her."

"You thought I'd glean all that from a wink?"

"It was an obvious wink."

"Not to me. But ... you think Edward's smitten with Lottie?"

"I don't think , I know . But you didn't pick up on that?"

Owen raked a hand through his hair. "I might have thought he was acting somewhat peculiar, considering he stopped talking when he was introduced to Lottie, but I didn't take that as a sign he was besotted with her."

"Of course he's besotted with her. In fact, I think we just witnessed that whimsical love-at-first-sight scenario."

"That's only in fairy tales," Owen argued before he frowned. "However, your interest in Edward, Lottie, and a belief you just witnessed them falling in love suggests you now have matchmaking on your mind. To remind you, you've been quite vocal regarding your hanging up of your matchmaking hat, except for those two men you mentioned you were unofficially sponsoring."

"If you'll recall, I didn't mention that. Mr. Timken did." She smiled. "He finally revealed who his good authority was regarding that matter—Petunia Wetzel, Charles's mother." Camilla shook her head. "Petunia's been quite persistent with her desire to see her son married, interrogating me at every turn to see if I've made any progress finding Charles a suitable match."

"I don't imagine you appreciate being interrogated."

Camilla waved that aside. "It comes with the territory of being a matchmaker, but returning to Edward and Lottie." She leaned forward. "Surely after seeing the sparks fly between those two, you can't believe that I, a former—and need I add, very successful—matchmaker could ever ignore such a delightful opportunity, can you?"

"When you put it like that, probably not. Nevertheless, while I'll admit Edward was not himself during his introduction to Lottie, I didn't detect anything curious about Lottie's reaction to him, something that suggests you're mistaken about the love-at-first-sight scenario."

"I'm never wrong about affairs of the heart, and while Lottie's reaction could have been easily missed because it was very subtle, she blushed. Lottie isn't a lady prone to blushing."

"I definitely missed any blushing going on, but have you considered that her face was merely flushed due to all the steam that was filling the train yard?"

"She wasn't flushing, but blushing, and before you argue with that, know that I wasn't overheated in the least. If you've forgotten, I'd been standing out in the train yard longer than Lottie and had also taken a bit of a gallop around the yard with Gladys."

"I'm sure you had to have been a little overheated after your gallop."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Must you argue with everything I say?"

He wrinkled his nose right back at her. "I wasn't arguing, merely pointing out the obvious. I noticed you were blotting your forehead after Gladys plopped to the ground."

She blinked. "Are you suggesting I was perspiring earlier because ... I wasn't."

Owen opened his mouth, realized he was about to argue yet another point, and settled for sending her a quirk of a brow.

"I wasn't," she reiterated again.

"It's not a crime to perspire."

"It's considered a serious breach of etiquette for ladies, which is why I've taken steps to avoid perspiring in general, such as limiting myself to two dances in any given evening and always having numerous handkerchiefs at the ready." She lifted her chin. "With that settled—and no, I won't discuss perspiration further with you—allow me to return to Edward and Lottie, a match just waiting to happen if there ever was one."

"Not that I want to argue with you again..."

"But you're going to," she muttered.

"Well, quite, because I think you're conjuring up a romance where none exists. Edward and Lottie don't even know each other, nor do I imagine they have anything in common. Edward is a respectable man of business, as well as a man with a philanthropic heart, devoting his spare time to building schools for the underprivileged of Wheeling and the surrounding area. He also volunteers his services teaching in those schools. Lottie, on the other hand, is a former criminal."

"It's hardly gentlemanly of you to point that out."

"And if you'll recall, I told you I've never claimed to be a gentleman, but I don't see how pointing out the truth is wrong."

"You could have stated it differently instead of speaking so baldly."

"How could I have stated that Lottie's a criminal any differently?"

"You could have said that she suffered from an unfortunate past."

"That would have made it sound like she was beset by misfortune, not that she chose to become involved with members of the criminal persuasion."

"Lottie was never a true criminal because she didn't voluntarily work for Frank Fitzsimmons, and even if that hadn't been the case, can you claim to have never made a mistake?"

"Of course I can't, especially when it seems I've just made a grave mistake by stating that Lottie was a criminal."

He wasn't certain, but it seemed as if Camilla's lips twitched before she inclined her head. "It's nice to discover you're willing to admit that, just as I'm sure you're going to admit you're wrong about Lottie and Edward having nothing in common after I tell you that Lottie's father was a tutor and that she's always aspired to become a teacher."

"Are you going to get all prickly with me again if I don't admit I was wrong?"

"Are you going to realize that accusing me of being prickly probably isn't the best way to avoid me descending into that condition?"

"Ah, so you admit you can be prickly."

"I didn't admit anything of the sort."

"Your tone right now speaks volumes for you."

She drew in a breath, released it, then drew in another before she finally settled what looked to be a remarkably forced smile on him. "Why don't we simply agree to allow their romance to unfold without any interference from us, at least for now, and leave it at that?"

He was hard-pressed not to laugh. "If your ‘for now' is equivalent to your you'll ‘be back momentarily,' we probably have a different perception of how long ‘for now' will end up being."

She smoothed a wrinkle from her skirt. "I suppose we could agree on an actual timeline, although, considering Edward didn't balk when I suggested he ride beside Lottie in their carriage, I may not need to interfere at all."

"Edward didn't balk because, for one, you told him Lottie's life might be at risk, which meant she needed a big, strong gentleman to keep her safe. You then made a point of telling him that Lottie is deathly afraid of heights and would surely be terrified to travel over the Suspension Bridge without someone familiar with that bridge sitting beside her, who could convince her that the cables wouldn't break and hence, she wouldn't plunge to a watery grave."

"I thought it spoke highly of Edward's character when he was more than willing to sit beside her in the carriage, even knowing she could very well take a death grip on his arm while traveling over the bridge. Those types of grips are notorious for leaving bruises, and yet he willingly offered to take the seat right next to her. He also assured her that even though he didn't fully comprehend why her life might be at risk, he was more than capable of protecting her."

"Edward's been shooting since he could walk, so he knows his way around a weapon, but..." Owen frowned. "It seemed to me that Lottie was rather surprised to learn she was terrified of heights."

"Was she?" Camilla asked before she turned her attention out the window. "Would you look at that? It's a department store."

"A less-than-subtle attempt to change the subject, but . . ." Owen looked out the window. "That's Stone and Thomas."

"I wasn't expecting Wheeling to have a department store."

"And while I understand my small city enjoys the reputation of being along the lines of a cow pasture, Wheeling is home to many successful industrialists who enjoy having convenient places to shop."

Camilla pulled her attention from the window and caught his eye. "Forgive me. I fear my words came out rather condescending, but I truly didn't mean to insult you or your town. I'm simply ignorant when it comes to West Virginia in general. From anything I've ever heard about your state—and yes, cow pastures have been mentioned—I never got the impression it was an up-and-coming city of any sophistication."

"There's no need to apologize, but to disabuse you of your misimpression of my city, allow me to point out some businesses on Market Street that will hopefully show why Wheeling is a city now worthy of the word sophisticated ."

For the next few minutes, Owen directed Camilla's attention to theaters that housed operas, plays, and balls; Hancher Diamond store; Murchendorfer Stogie Factory; as well as a bakery that sold the most delectable pastries.

He then launched into a brief history of the Wheeling Suspension Bridge when the carriage turned onto it, smiling when Camilla pressed her nose against the glass to get a better look at what had been called a modern marvel of engineering.

"Is it my imagination or is the carriage swaying?" she asked right as El Cid started yowling, the yowls having Gladys, who'd been sleeping on the seat beside Camilla, opening one eye before she closed it again and went straight back to sleep.

Owen pulled El Cid's basket onto his lap, which earned him a hiss in return, suggesting the cat wasn't in the mood to be consoled. "The bridge sways because of how it's constructed, the cables moving whenever traffic is heavy, but there's no need to fear it's unsafe."

"Reassuring to know," Camilla said, returning her attention to the scene outside the window, silence settling over them except for the sound of the wheels clanking against the steel grates of the bridge.

Less than five minutes later, they were turning onto Zane Street, and a moment after that, the carriage pulled to a stop in front of his house.

Glancing out the window, his gaze traveled over his three-storied home. Built in a classical revival style, it was crafted from red brick and sported a full porch that spanned the entire length of the house that had clusters of fluted wooden columns set into the brick, a design feature that was a common sight on many of the houses on Wheeling Island.

He set El Cid's basket aside and stepped out of the carriage, extending his hand to Camilla. After helping her to the sidewalk, he called for Gladys, who refused to budge and tucked her head underneath her paw instead—until Camilla mentioned something about a treat, which had the poodle leaping out of the carriage, her pom tail wagging furiously as she turned hopeful poodle eyes on Camilla, who was now rummaging through her reticule, pulling out what seemed to be a piece of a biscuit.

"I'm not above bribery to get her moving," Camilla said, tossing the biscuit to Gladys, who snapped it out of the air.

Owen grinned. "Bribery appears to work."

"Of course it does, but it's rather embarrassing to have to resort to such tactics, as well as keep biscuits stuffed in my reticules, which can make a bit of a mess, something Bernadette complains about often." Camilla looped Gladys's leash around her hand before she directed her attention to his home. "This is yours?"

"It is."

"It's quite lovely, but..." She gestured to the front steps. "Why are those so steep?"

"Practicality," he said. "The foundations on most of the houses on the island are raised a half story before you reach the first floor because of potential flooding." He nodded to the house next to his, and then to one across the street. "When the river rises, our furnished floors don't get ruined, and we have drainage systems in place that allow us to get rid of the water that seeps into our basements just as soon as the river retreats."

"How clever," Camilla said as her gaze traveled over Zane Street, her brow furrowing a second later. "Forgive me, but I have to ask—is it an usual circumstance for people to walk pigs down this street?"

A sense of foreboding began crawling through him the second he directed his gaze to where Camilla was peering and caught sight of his sister, Luella, who was in the process of trying to haul a pig up Zane Street—and not just any pig but one that went by the name of Esmerelda, a menace to the world if there ever was one.

The foreboding turned to downright alarm when he noticed that the beautiful spring flowers that usually flanked the brick sidewalk leading up to his house were nowhere in sight. All that was left of them were a few stalks, and the ground where they'd once been planted looked as if something had been rooting around in it, searching out the bulbs.

His gaze darted to the Murchendorfers' house next door, his alarm increasing when he noticed Mrs. Murchendorfer's flowers were mutilated as well.

His attention swung back to Esmerelda, although what she was doing on the island was a question in and of itself, but given the destruction he'd just noted, it was a foregone conclusion that the pig, one that was surly during its every waking hour and weighed almost three hundred pounds, had been on a bit of a rampage.

He moved closer to Camilla, wanting to get her into the house before Esmerelda got too close because the pig was questionable around people and downright nasty when it came to other animals, especially dogs.

Before he could take Camilla's arm, though, Gladys's fur stood on end, the dog having taken note of Esmerelda, who was now squealing in what could only be considered a menacing fashion. A mere heartbeat later, Esmerelda bolted forward and headed directly for Gladys, straining against the rope Luella was trying to hang on to.

Gladys didn't hesitate to turn and dash in the opposite direction, dragging Camilla behind her as she raced through the Murchendorfers' front yard, right as Esmerelda slipped from the rope restraining her.

As if sensing the approach of a now unrestrained pig, Gladys changed directions and dashed toward Owen's front porch, her abrupt about-face causing Camilla to launch forward, looking for the briefest of seconds as if she were flying through the air, quite like a kite, but one that was tethered to a frantic dog.

Unfortunately, the flying state wasn't meant to last, and in the span of a split second, Camilla plummeted to the ground, landing in what had once been a lovely garden of tulips but could now be considered more along the lines of a pigsty.