“Miss Pierpont enjoys the reputation of being capable of rehabilitating young ladies with unfortunate reputations.”
“She’s a teacher?”
“Not exactly. She’s a member of what the fancy folks in NewYork City call the Four Hundred, as well as considered one of the most fashionable upper-crust ladies to ever grace the social scene there.”
Edward’s brows drew together. “And she agreed to travel to Wheeling to help out a girl she’s never met before?”
“She apparently suffers from boredom on a frequent basis.”
“Helping Luella will certainly put an end to that, but...” Edward caught Owen’s eye. “Dare I hope that Miss Pierpont isn’t simply here to help with Luella, but, perhaps, has agreed to take on such a daunting task because the two of you have formed an ... attachment?”
Owen brushed that aside. “Please. A lady like Miss Pierpont would never be content with a man like me. She’s practically royalty where she’s from, and I’m merely a man who doesn’t have a way with the ladies, as was proven recently by the trouble I encountered with Curtistine Longerbeam and Pauline Zavolta, two ladies who haven’t been shy about telling everyone what an idiot I am.”
“They’re only telling everyone that because they were hoping to become Mrs. Owen Chesterfield and you weren’t as keen as they were to see that come to fruition.”
“I wasn’t keen because I had no idea marriage was even on the table with either of them.”
“An experience I’m sure won’t happen again because it’s happened to you twice now.”
“I’m thinking it might be for the best if I simply avoid ladies for the foreseeable future,” Owen admitted as Gladys suddenly began yipping, drawing his attention. She surged into motion a second later, her long, spindly legs eating up the ground as she headed his way, dragging Camilla behind her.
Owen thrust El Cid’s basket into Edward’s hand and strode to intercept Gladys, snagging hold of her collar and pulling her to a stop, which earned him an injured look from the poodle and a smile of relief from Camilla.
“I’ve never seen her move so fast,” Camilla said as Edwardwalked up to join them, setting El Cid’s basket down, which Gladys immediately began to nuzzle, causing El Cid to cease with the howling.
“And here I thought Gladys merely tolerated El Cid, but I may have been wrong about that,” Camilla said before she turned her attention to Edward, smiled, then arched a brow Owen’s way.
He fought a smile of his own. “It’s amazing how proficient I’m becoming with deciphering your wiggling brows.”
“My brows do not wiggle. They arch.”
“It looks like wiggling to me, but since I doubt you want to engage in an argument right now, allow me to present Mr. Edward Stevens.” He nodded to Edward, who was watching him with one of his brows quirked, although what that brow business was about was beyond him at the moment. “Edward, this is Miss Camilla Pierpont. Camilla, this is Mr. Edward Stevens, who manages Chesterfield Nails but has been a friend of mine for years.”
Edward took hold of Camilla’s gloved hand and pressed a kiss on it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Pierpont,” Edward began. “Owen tells me you’re here to assist Luella.”
Camilla inclined her head. “It’s delightful to meet you as well, Mr. Stevens, and yes, I am here on Luella’s behalf, and hopefully, we’ll enjoy some success with...” Her voice trailed off as if she wasn’t certain how to phrase what she was hoping to enjoy success with.
“Transforming her from a ragamuffin into a polished, sophisticated young lady?” Edward finished for her.
Camilla arched another brow in Owen’s direction. “I know you said your sister didn’t embrace a fashionable attitude, but you didn’t mention anything about a ragamuffin state, something that’s completely different than being unfashionable.”
“I would think ragamuffin and unfashionable are two peas in a pod.”
“They’re not, and given the wariness flickering through your eyes, you know they’re not.” She tilted her head. “Did you purposefullywithhold the ragamuffin business because you were concerned I wouldn’t agree to take your sister in hand?”
Owen rubbed a hand over his chin. “That thought may have crossed my mind, although I figured, after you were actually on the train bound for Wheeling, that you probably wouldn’t throw yourself out of the train if I got around to admitting that Luella may have recently begun abandoning expected grooming, er, protocols.”
“And yet, even though you thought I wouldn’t throw myself off the train, you never said a word about any of this, so explain what grooming practices she may have abandoned.”
It really was amazing how downright sparky Camilla’s eyes could get.
He refused a wince. “Well, she seems to have an aversion to combs at times, and ... perhaps an aversion to washing her face.”
It was not an encouraging sign when an entire storm began brewing in Camilla’s blue eyes, eyes he hadn’t neglected to notice were rather compelling, but were now no longer sparky but flashing in a manner that suggested that the tempest currently brewing in them was just about to break.
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.
