Owendidinterest her.
There were myriad reasons for why she found him interesting, one of the most prominent ones being the fact that he didn’t flatter her. Even more interesting was that she knew he didn’t flatter her, not because he wasn’t adept with pretty words, but because he wasn’t trying to impress her, a novel experience if there ever was one and frankly one she couldn’t deny was appealing.
The only problem with finding him appealing, though, was that he’d not shown a single sign that he found her appealing in return.
She was accustomed to having gentlemen going to extrememeasures to win her favor, and yet Owen hadn’t done anything to suggest he wanted any favor from her. Quite frankly, he seemed almost oblivious to the fact she was even a member of the feminine set, and ...
“Oh, this is going to be interesting,” Lottie suddenly proclaimed, yanking Camilla from her thoughts.
“What should be interesting?” she asked, glancing around.
Lottie nodded to two young ladies who were standing in the middle of the department, their gazes locked on Camilla—until they exchanged a bit of a look between them, lifted their chins in tandem, and began marching determinedly Camilla’s way.
Twenty
“You must be Miss Pierpont,” one of the ladies sporting a gown awash in bows exclaimed, stopping directly in front of Camilla and dipping into a curtsy. “I know this is quite untoward since I’m well-aware someone else should perform a formal introduction, but”—she glanced around the room—“since I don’t see Luella anywhere, and there’s no one else present to introduce us...” She returned her attention to Camilla. “I’m Miss Sally Murchendorfer.”
“I sure was right about this being interesting,” Lottie muttered before she glided away, leaving Camilla in the company of Ada Mae’s daughter, a young lady who apparently still trusted her mother’s judgment regarding bows.
Camilla dipped into a curtsy of her own. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Murchendorfer.”
“Allow me to present my friend,” Sally said, nodding to the lady accompanying her. “Miss Pierpont, this is Miss Curtistine Longerbeam. Curtistine, Miss Camilla Pierpont.”
It really wasn’t much of a surprise when Curtistine, the lady who’d called Owen a lout over their obvious misunderstanding regarding his intentions toward her, glared at her—until Sally gaveher a nudge, which resulted in Curtistine dredging up a rather forced smile.
“Delighted to meet you, Miss Pierpont,” Curtistine squeaked out. “I understand that congratulations are in order.”
“It’s delightful to meet you as well, Miss Longerbeam, although congratulations may be a touch premature considering there’s been no official announcement made yet.”
“Having seconds thoughts already?”
Camilla’s eyes immediately took to narrowing. “Why would you assume that?”
“It’s not much of an assumption when Owen holds the reputation of being incapable of capturing a lady’s affections for long,” Curtistine returned. “Personally, I knew it was only a matter of time until you, an esteemed lady with Knickerbocker status if rumor has it correctly, realized he was a complete and utter bore.”
Clearly, the lady’s silk gloves were rapidly coming off, which meant she was going to have to shuck off hers as well.
“I fear you’re allowing your personal disappointment regarding Owen as a reason to set aside any semblance of good manners, Miss Longerbeam,” she began. “He certainly can’t be blamed for your erroneous conclusions regarding his intentions toward you.”
“Since he’s solely responsible for me arriving at those conclusions, I don’t know who else I could possibly blame.”
“If you understood Owen, you’d realize that he never meant to hurt your feelings. He was simply unaware that you held him in affection, and romantic affection at that.”
“I never held Owen in affection, romantic or otherwise.”
Camilla’s brows drew together. “Then why did you want to marry him?”
“I didn’t want to marry him, but I would have because he’s considered the most eligible bachelor in the valley, even with him being a snob. Landing Owen Chesterfield would’ve been a feather in any lady’s hat—until you came along, that is.”
“I’ve never gotten the impression Owen’s a snob.”
“Of course he is because he thinks all the ladies in this area aren’t good enough for him. And”—Curtistine held up her hand when Camilla opened her mouth—“case in point. When Ada Mae broached the idea of a marriage between Sally and Owen once Sally reached her majority, Betty Lou, Owen’s mother, said that such a marriage would only happen over her dead body. That left Ada Mae with the impression Mrs. Chesterfield thought Sally wasn’t good enough for her son. Owen then proved he was of that same thought when he never bothered to mention the subject of marriage to Sally, even though they live right next door to each other.”
Everything suddenly made a great deal of sense.
Swallowing a sigh, Camilla turned to Sally. “Was Betty Lou’s dismissal of your mother’s suggestion regarding a marriage between you and Owen the reason behind Ada Mae neglecting to include Betty Lou in the weekly whist parties?”
“I wouldn’t want to speak for my mother, but can you blame her if that’s what she did?” Sally returned.
