“She sounds like she is.”
“Esmerelda always sounds like that because she’s a menace with a questionable disposition.”
“Don’t your neighbors have an issue living on the same street as a menacing pig?”
“I’m sure they would if Esmerelda lived on the island. She doesn’t, which is why I’m a little confused what she’s doing here now.”
He turned his attention to a young lady plastered in mud, who was currently struggling to tie a rope around Esmerelda, who evidently didn’t want the rope tied around her since she’d grabbed hold of it with her mouth and was shaking it back and forth, causing the lady to wobble about. “Care to explain why Esmerelda’s here, Luella?”
It really came as no surprise that the mud-encrusted lady was Owen’s sister, one who lifted her head and settled narrowed eyes on her brother. “You’ll need to take that up with Meemaw.”
“Meemaw’s here?”
“She’s inside. Making pies.” Luella yanked the rope from the pig’s mouth, looped it underneath an enormous stomach, took a second to knot the rope, then straightened. “We were expecting you back earlier.”
“My train got delayed, but what are you doing here?”
“You’ll have to ask Meemaw. It was her idea to come to the island, and no, I don’t know why, nor do I know why she insisted we bring Esmerelda.”
“There’s no need to get testy. It was just a question.”
Luella tossed one of her pigtails over her shoulder. “I’ve just spent the past hour running around the island, chasing a pig whose sole purpose in life is to create as much destruction as possible. Of course I’m testy. You know everyone on the island already thinks I’m some country bumpkin who is the very definition of unrefined. Scrambling down one street after another, trying to lasso a squealing pig, certainly didn’t do anything to change that impression.”
“I’m afraid you’re probably right,” Owen admitted. “Which is why I’m sure you’re going to be relieved to learn that I’ve brought a solution home that should rectify everyone’s less-than-favorableimpression of you.” He turned, winced when his gaze settled on Camilla, and blew out a breath. “I do beg your pardon, Miss Pierpont. I’m afraid I forgot for a moment that you’re lingering about in all that mud.”
He immediately offered her his hand, and she found herself pulled from the wreckage of someone’s former garden a second later.
“I’m sure your forgetfulness was simply a result of an unexpected pig attack,” she said, wiping her hands down the front of a traveling gown that was definitely not going to be salvageable.
“Isshethe solution to my problem?” Luella asked, stepping closer as her gaze traveled over Camilla.
“She is, but before we get into any details regarding that—Luella, this is Miss Camilla Pierpont. Camilla, my sister, Miss Luella Chesterfield.”
Even though, given the circumstances, it felt rather ridiculous to dip into a curtsy, that’s exactly what Camilla decided to do, since she was, after all, there to take Luella in hand and teach her a few manners. “It’s delightful to meet you, Miss Chesterfield. Your brother’s told me a lot about you.”
Instead of dipping into a curtsy of her own, Luella thrust her hand Camilla’s way. Not wanting to be rude, Camilla soon found her hand clasped in a firm grip, then shaken exactly twice, which was, surprisingly, the proper way to shake a hand—well, at least amongst gentlemen. Luella then took a step back, wiped her muddy hand, some of the mud having been transferred to her from Camilla’s mud-drenched glove, down the front of a dress that resembled a potato sack, and smiled, something that lit up her face and had Camilla realizing that Luella Chesterfield, underneath all the mud, was an incredibly beautiful young lady, a tidbit Owen had neglected to mention.
A sense of anticipation began swirling through her as she mentally redressed Luella in a fashionable gown, removed her hair from pigtails and into an elaborate chignon, and cleaned the mud froma face that was downright arresting, complete with blue eyes that were rimmed with extremely long lashes.
“How much did you have to pay her to be the solution to my problem?” Luella asked, settling a scowl on her brother.
Owen scowled right back at her. “Just because you’re in a testy frame of mind doesn’t give you an excuse for rudeness, brat.”
“Calling me a brat is hardly likely to cause my testiness to abate, and it’s not rude, but a legitimate question because you had to fork out a small fortune to get me enrolled in that fancy finishing school, and we both know how well that didn’t turn out. I’d hate for you to have yet another dismal return on an investment, something that’s a distinct possibility with this latest solution of yours.”
“I’m not paying Miss Pierpont anything.”
Luella’s gaze suddenly shot to the wagon piled high with portmanteaus before she returned her attention to her brother. “There’s an awful lot of trunks over there, which suggests Miss Pierpont is here for an extended, or perhaps even permanent, stay.”
“She’s a lady who merely enjoys numerous wardrobe changes a day.”
“A ready response if there ever was one, and one that seems rather practiced, so ... what are you hiding from me?”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
Luella tapped a finger against her chin, then stilled as her eyes widened. “Oh my word, you’ve evidently taken Mother’s last letter to heart and decided to fix my problem, as well as appease her greatest desire, by getting yourself one of those mail-order brides, which then means—you’ve clearly lost your mind.”
“My mind is fine, and I don’t recall Mother even mentioning a mail-order bride in her last letter.”
