“What did you do when he suggested you calm down?”
“I had to resist the urge to shoot him with the derringer I was already pointing his way.”
Beulah released a bark of laughter. “And that right there, my girl, is exactly why you’re perfect for him.”
“Because I refrained from shooting him?”
“Well, that was considerate of you, but no. You’re well-suited for him because you’re not intimidated by him. I don’t know of any other lady who would have dared such a thing, given that ladies in general are unsettled by the sheer size of Owen, as well as his brusque nature.”
“What makes you think Owen doesn’t unsettle me?”
Beulah turned the horses onto yet another drive before she frowned. “An interesting question, and one I’ll need to consider further, but not right now since we’re almost to the house.”
“Why does my question need further consideration?”
“Because I’ve gotten the impression you pride yourself on always being composed, but since you’ve all but admitted my Owen unsettles you, well, there could be a myriad of reasons to explain that. I simply need to figure out which reason is the right one, although I’m relatively sure it’s the one where you, a matchmaker, realizes that you’ve met your match in Owen, but because you’re so immersed in the business end of romance with other people, you’re simply too blind to see what’s clearly in front of your face.”
Camilla opened her mouth to argue but closed it when Beulah drove around a bend in the road and a beautiful mansion came into view, one that captured Camilla’s attention and erased all thoughts of arguing.
Gazing at the building located between large, leafy maple trees, Camilla lingered on a portico at the very center of the house, one that had six white Ionic pillars forming a semicircle leading to the front door, the white of the pillars providing a lovely contrast against the saffron yellow the house had been painted. Situated back from the pillared entrance was the front door, painted a deep burgundy. Seven leaded-glass windows inlaid across the middle section of the house sparkled in the sunlight and drew attention to what was the centerpiece of the house, even though there were indented wings on either side of the main building, which was a somewhat atypical architectural design for a house that was mostly built in the Greek Revival style.
“It’s beautiful,” she said as Beulah drew the wagon to a stop in front of a short flight of steps that led to the impressive portico.
“I preferred the house Betty Lou and Hiram originally began building,” Beulah countered. “It was a charming eight-room farmhouse.”
“This is certainly no farmhouse.”
“Too right it isn’t.” Beulah released a sigh. “The farmhouse plan changed once Betty Lou discovered that the Murchendorfers were intending on building a thirty-room mansion about half a mile from here. Betty Lou immediately decided the farmhouse wasn’t going to impress anyone, and off she went to speak with the architect, who was more than happy to take the bones of the farmhouse that had already been erected and transform it into what is standing before us.”
“It’s charming.”
“Charmingisn’t exactly a word I’d use to describe a house that has thirty-seven rooms, one of which is a ballroom that takes up the majority of the second floor.”
“And is a room I’m apparently going to be spending a lot of time in now that I’m being taken in hand,” Luella said as she strode up to join them, tucking a pistol into the holster she was wearing low on her hip, but whipping it out again a second later when a shout came from the side of the house right before a handful of men came rushing into view, all of them heavily armed.
“Riders comin’ up fast,” someone yelled.
A blink of an eye later, Beulah had what could only be described as a sailor’s grip on Camilla’s arm as she propelled Camilla up the steps and through the front door.
“Stay here, and for heaven’s sake, stay out of sight. Your enemies have evidently come to call,” Beulah barked before she spun on her heel and headed out the door, saying something about fetching her rifle.
Not particularly caring for being shoved out of the way and told to stay out of sight, Camilla unsnapped her reticule, pulled out her derringer, then moved to the nearest window and twitched the drapery just the slightest bit to catch a glimpse of what was transpiring outside.
A frisson of alarm stole through her when she caught sight of two riders approaching, reining to a stop when Beulah stepped forward and aimed her rifle at them.
“That’s close enough,” Beulah yelled.
“No cause for alarm,” one of the men shouted. “We’re just here to see Camilla Pierpont.”
“We know why you’re here,” Beulah countered. “But you won’t get to Camilla unless it’s over my dead body, and I have no intention of dying today.”
“Is that a Kentucky long rifle?” one of the men called next, which was a rather unusual thing to concern himself with, given the circumstances.
“Too right it is,” Beulah yelled back.
“I heard that rifle is capable of shooting a fly off a fence.”
Camilla stilled when she realized the voice sounded familiar.
