It was evidently a day for firsts, and he’d not even gotten around to contemplating the onslaught of airborne raccoons or the ensuing altercation he’d had with the pack’s leader, an aggressive beast with teeth as sharp as razors.
Luckily, the raccoon hadn’t gotten an opportunity to sink its teeth into his skin, but it had managed to rip the sleeve of his jacket, leaving it hanging by a few threads, which meant it was now highly unlikely he was going to make much of a favorable impression during what he’d hoped would be a productive business meeting that morning.
A nicker from George, his stallion, drew Owen from his thoughts. After giving George a scratch behind the ears, he blew out a breath. “I know, it’s been a most unusual morning, but there’s an extra bucket of oats coming your way since you rose magnificently to a most unexpected situation.”
George tossed his head, earning a smile from Owen.
“Of course I didn’t doubt for a second you’d be willing to abandon our leisurely pace to chase after those men, although I’m hoping the remainder of the day isn’t fraught with additional obstacles.” He steered George around a large hole in the road. “I’m wondering, though, if I should take our encounter with those women as a sign I should abandon my plan to present a proposal tothat matchmaker. Clearly, members of the feminine set are taking issue with me today, and the matchmaker is a woman, after all, and a society matron at that. I’m relatively sure after Walter Townsend told me she’s known to be a stickler for the proprieties, that she’ll take issue with the derelict state of my jacket and might also take issue with the idea I’m showing up at her home unannounced.”
Owen picked off a loose thread from what remained of his sleeve. “In hindsight, I should have taken Walter’s suggestion and sent a letter requesting an audience, but I didn’t want to delay our return trip home to Wheeling, what with the Luella situation there, nor did I want to give the matchmaker an opportunity to refuse to meet with me, a decision I may now come to regret.”
George gave another toss of his head, which Owen took as a sign of sympathy for his plight and earned his horse a pat.
“Who would have thought this unscheduled visit to the Hudson would get off to such a rocky start?” he asked. “I mean, there I was, after enjoying a delicious breakfast at that inn Walter recommended, minding my own business as we rode along, when I spotted that carriage parked in the middle of the road. My first thought, of course, was that it had suffered a broken axle, but then those riders came racing up to it. Instead of holding it up, which is what I assumed they were about to do, they yelled something to the driver, and everyone took off down the road. It was a suspicious circumstance to be sure and meant we had no choice but to follow them. Good thing we did, though, after those women rode into view and it was clear they were in danger. One would have thought they’d have appreciated me dispersing their would-be attackers, but I evidently got off on the wrong foot with Goldie and never got an opportunity to convince her I was there to save her.”
He gave his chin a scratch. “I’m still wondering if I should have gone after them once I managed to extricate myself from the raccoon onslaught. The reason I didn’t, though, if you were wondering, and before you judge me for not rushing to the aid of two members of the fairer sex, was because Goldie’s paid companiondashed away with one of my Colt Dragoons. While I’m relatively certain that she, quite like Goldie, aimed over my head on purpose before she pulled the trigger, if I’d been able to catch up with them, she might’ve decided that I really was a threat, which could have resulted in her deciding to aim a second shot to dispatch me instead of warn me off.”
George tossed his head again, paired with a nicker.
“Glad you agree with that, and...” Owen’s voice trailed off as he took note of a lane to his right, one that was flanked by large maple trees and had two majestic stone lions standing on opposite pedestals underneath those trees. He reined George to a stop. “Looks like this might be the place. Walter told me to look for lions.”
He checked his pocket watch, frowned when he realized it was almost ten, then nudged George into motion again.
“We’re behind schedule, but hopefully this meeting won’t take long and then we can return to the station and get my Pullman car hooked up to the train going back to Wheeling.”
After a full five minutes of cantering down the lane, the trees finally gave way and Owen found himself looking across acres of well-maintained lawn, complete with well-trimmed hedges and numerous flower gardens that were even now being tended to by a legion of gardeners.
The gravel lane soon gave way to paved stones that led to a magnificent four-story house, one that was crafted from hand-hewn blocks of limestone. Stately stairs led to the front vestibule, where an unusually large black cat was sunning itself on the very top of those stairs. It immediately lifted its head and settled its attention on Owen as he reined George to a stop and swung from the saddle.
After handing George’s reins to a young groom who’d appeared the moment he’d reached the house, Owen thanked the lad and told him he wouldn’t be long before he headed up the steps, taking a second to give the black cat a belly rub, pausing when the front door began opening.
Abandoning the cat, who sent him a look of annoyance, as if it felt Owen hadn’t given him enough in the way of belly-scratching affection, Owen moved toward the door, where an older gentleman dressed formally in a black suit was already in the process of looking him up and down, his face completely expressionless as he finally caught Owen’s eye.
“May I help you, sir?” the man asked.
Owen held out his hand. “I’m Mr. Owen Chesterfield, here to speak with Mrs. Pierpont.”
After pausing for the briefest of seconds, the man stepped forward and shook Owen’s hand. “I’m Mr. Timken, the Pierpont butler.” His gaze traveled over Owen yet again, lingering on his dangling sleeve. “If you’re here to sell Mrs. Pierpont something, know that salesmen are expected to use the back door.”
It wasn’t the first time Owen had been asked to use a back door, nor did he expect it would be his last.
He knew he didn’t look the part of a man of fortune, and truth be told, hewasa salesman of sorts, but one who sold vast quantities of nails, iron ore, copper, and bauxite to the titans of industry, of which he was considered an esteemed member.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t believe Mrs. Pierpont would have an interest in any of the products I sell, Mr. Timken. However, I’m not here to sell her anything, except maybe on the idea that I would certainly make it worth her while if she were to agree to take on a project for me.”
Mr. Timken’s brow furrowed. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir, because I cannot imagine what type ofprojectyou’d want to propose to Mrs. Pierpont.”
Owen cocked his head to the side. “Ah, right. I should have been more discreet since I’m sure deniability is a must in this household whenever someone arrives out of the blue, looking to secure Mrs. Pierpont’s services, which are probably considered a sensitive topic with Mr. Pierpont.”
“Mrs. Pierpont’s services?” Mr. Timken repeated.
“Indeed, but know that I don’t think those services are common knowledge except amongst ladies involved with the Four Hundred. I only learned about them through Mr. Walter Townsend, a business associate of mine who was kind enough to pen me a letter of introduction to present to Mrs. Pierpont, proving I’m a legitimate man of business and have earned the respect of men like Astor, Vanderbilt, Rutherford, and of course, Walter Townsend himself.”
Owen began searching through his pockets. “Ah, here it is.” He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and held it out to Mr. Timken, who took the paper with one hand, slipping his other hand into his breast pocket and pulling out a pair of spectacles.
After settling them into place, Mr. Timken uncrumpled the paper, looking over the rim of his glasses to meet Owen’s gaze after he scanned the page. “It states that Walter Townsend is well-acquainted with you and finds you to be an upstanding individual with whom he often does business.” Mr. Timken handed the paper back to Owen. “It does not mention why you want to seek out an audience with Mrs. Pierpont.”
“I think that’s best left discussed between Mrs. Pierpont and myself.”
