“Indeed, and one of the matrimonial variety, if that’s in question.”
Ada Mae blinked. “Surely you’re not saying you’re intending to marry Owen Chesterfield, are you?”
“That, my dear Mrs. Murchendorfer, isexactlywhat I’m saying.”
Twelve
During the hour and a half that had passed since Camilla dropped the unexpected revelation that she was apparently almost engaged to him, Owen had found himself chuckling more than a few times, earning concerned looks from Meemaw and Luella in the process, as if they’d never taken note of him chuckling before.
Even his gardener, whom he’d been helping repair the back fence that Esmerelda had chewed her way through, had been looking at him oddly, and had moved to another section of the fence at one point, quite as if he’d wanted to put some distance between them because he was seemingly of the belief that Owen had lost his mind.
Frankly, Owen couldn’t pinpoint exactly what he found so amusing, other than the fact that Camilla, as she’d risen to his family’s defense in a most magnificent fashion, had obviously been just as astonished by her pronouncement as everyone else had been, given the way her eyes had widened ever so slightly.
Other than that, though, she’d not given Ada Mae a single reason to question what had obviously been a spur-of-the-moment declaration, instead merely lifting her chin and sending his neighbor a glacial glare before she’d turned on her heel and glided into his house.
It had been a most impressive departure if he’d ever seen one, even with Camilla covered in mud and trailed by El Cid, Gladys, and Esmerelda, who seemed, oddly enough, enamored with El Cid. Meemaw’s pig was even now waiting outside the back door, snuffling through the screen and releasing forlorn-sounding snorts, probably because El Cid was nowhere to be found, having followed Camilla as she’d repaired to the second-floor bedroom Meemaw had assigned her, telling Owen she’d be back directly after she freshened up.
Being back directly, at least in Camilla’s case, evidently took over an hour and a half, but as she’d certainly had a trying day and was probably now aghast about the whole imminent announcement she’d told Ada Mae was in the works, Owen couldn’t blame her for taking all the time she needed to think through the intricate details pertaining to their impending betrothal.
He was beyond curious how she was going to handle a situation she’d created, and all because she’d obviously allowed her temper, something she continuously denied she possessed, get the better of her.
From his perspective, she had two options—she could race back to New York and pretend she’d never met him, or ... she could continue with what was a rather unprecedented charade, which, if that was her choice, suggested that the Lord Something-or-Other she’d briefly mentioned, but hadn’t expanded on, might really be the main reason she’d changed her mind about helping Luella in the first place.
“I apologize for my lengthy absence,” the object of his thoughts said as she breezed into the room, looking resplendent in a gown of palest green, her blond hair swept up on top of her head and sporting not a single smidgen of dirt anywhere, the pinkness of her cheeks suggesting she’d lingered in the tub for quite some time.
“There’s no need to apologize because I just got back from fixing the fence,” Owen said as Camilla settled herself on a chaisedone up in a floral chintz, one his mother had purchased when her Wheeling friends had decided flowers were all the rage some five years before.
He’d always found the floral motif a little fussy, but since his mother was no longer in town to redecorate and his grandmother had no interest in furnishing trends, that idea reinforced by the fact she’d had the same furniture in her cabin for the past forty years, and Luella had always seemed indifferent to what the interior of the house looked like, he’d not bothered to change the décor.
Camilla stopped rearranging the folds of her skirt and lifted her head. “You fixed the fence?”
“Esmerelda did quite a bit of damage, and we only keep one gardener on the island, Mr. Bannock. I wanted to lend him some assistance before Esmerelda had an opportunity to make another great escape.”
“You know that’s not the only reason you helped,” Luella said, strolling into the room, her wet hair trailing down her back and wearing a dress Owen was relatively sure had been Meemaw’s at some point. “Mr. Bannock only has one good hand, which would have made it tricky for him to fix a fence whether there was a time challenge or not.”
“You have a one-handed gardener?” Camilla asked.
“Most of our help have physical limitations in one form or another,” Luella said, sitting down on a chair sprinkled with bright pink flowers woven into the fabric. “Owen makes a point to hire men who’ve been hurt in mining and factory accidents, which, unfortunately, this area sees far too often.” She reached down and gave El Cid, who’d followed Camilla into the room and was now rubbing against Luella’s skirt, a pat. “Mr. Bannock’s left hand was crushed in some machinery when he worked in a glassworks factory. He didn’t lose the hand, but he’s not capable of holding much with it.”
“Owen also hired Johnny Nemeti, known as simply Nems, who lost a leg when there was an explosion at a coal mine up nearSt. Clairsville, to drive our carriages,” Meemaw said as she pushed a cart stacked with plates, cups, a coffee urn, and an apple pie into the room, Mr. Timken hovering directly behind her, as if he were itching to take over and assume his usual role of butler. “Nems was thrilled with the offer, although he grumbles a lot because we don’t use our carriages often. He feels guilty about drawing a salary when he’s not called upon to do much work.”
“His services will undoubtedly be required more frequently now that Miss Pierpont’s come to visit,” Luella said before she quirked a brow at Camilla. “You are going to stay, aren’t you, even after engaging in that contentious exchange, which I enjoyed tremendously, with Mrs. Murchendorfer?”
Camilla winced and turned to Owen. “I suppose there’s really no choicebutfor me to stay, since I’ve complicated an already precarious situation. I’ve taken some time to consider the matter, Mr. Chesterfield, and we might be able to use what I can only call a lapse in sanity on my part to our advantage.”
He smiled. “Don’t you think, since we’re evidently practically engaged, that you might want to start calling me Owen?”
Camilla’s shoulders drooped just the slightest bit. “I suppose that’s a practical suggestion, as I’m sure people would remark upon it if we maintained an air of formality between us. Nevertheless, before I say another word about a situation that’s entirely my fault and how I’m going to go about resolving matters, allow me to apologize for placing you in what is certainly an unenviable position. I simply don’t know what came over me that caused me to blurt out a forthcoming announcement.”
“Why would you think finding myself almost engaged to you would be an unenviable position?”
“Because when we don’t get married, people like Ada Mae will start spouting more nonsense about your family being ne’er-do-wells again, which will certainly be why they conclude I didn’t go through with marrying you.” She lifted her chin. “However, I’ve already figured out how to save your reputation.”
“Shouldn’t we be more concerned with your reputation?” Owen asked.
“Given my advanced age and the fact I’m from an esteemed family, I don’t face as much censure as most ladies do. Besides that, there’s little chance anyone in New York will hear even a whisper of what I’ve been up to in Wheeling.”
“I can surely attest to the advantages of the advanced-age business,” Meemaw said as she took hold of the coffeepot but paused instead of pouring out a cup. “After I reached seventy, I didn’t bother to censor anything I wanted to say, and I have yet to have anyone reprimand me about any frank opinions I might voice.”
