After dipping into a curtsy while Owen presented her with a bow, then glancing over her shoulder to ascertain that Luella and Charles were alright, which they most assuredly were since Charles, instead of merely bowing to Luella, had hold of her hand again and was placing a kiss on it, Camilla turned front and center, pressing her lips together when she noticed Owen was, unsurprisingly, scowling once again.
She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “We might need to plan out a feigned rendezvous after all because as a former matchmaker, I can tell you that it’s a rare sight indeed for a gentleman who is almost engaged, and who’s supposed to be somewhat smitten with his intended, to scowl in such an intimidating fashion.”
Owen’s scowl was gone a second later, replaced with a smile, and a second after that, he was whisking her around the other couples in a complicated step, but she didn’t linger on the fact that the week of dance practice had obviously paid off, what with how he was more than accomplished on the dance floor. Instead, she found herself lingering on the surprising realization that their steps were perfectly matched even though they’d never danced together.
As Owen led her through a series of twirls, her mind began to spin quite as fast as her feet because the thought sprang to mind that Beulah might not be so wrong after all and that she, Miss Camilla Pierpont, confirmed spinster by choice, may have finally, and quite unexpectedly, met her match.
Twenty-Three
“Is it just me, or do you also find what Camilla’s been able to accomplish of late beyond impressive?” Luella asked as she galloped alongside Owen across the lawn of the country house that she and Camilla had decided was to now be called Moonlight Manor.
It was a question that didn’t need much consideration. “It would be difficult not to be impressed with her since we haven’t even presented you at the ball yet but everyone in Wheeling seems to be clamoring to spend time in your company,” Owen said.
“I must admit all the clamoring is a bit disconcerting, but that Camilla was capable of achieving such success with me, and less than three weeks after she arrived in Wheeling ... well, I don’t think anyone would argue the point that she possesses more than her average share of competency.”
“She’s definitely been competent with taking you in hand, but I don’t think anyone would claim she’s been all that capable when it comes to the chores Aunt Elma keeps doling out to her.”
Luella grinned. “A valid point, but it was hardly Camilla’s fault that Esmerelda decided her backside needed a scratch and just happened to rub against the post where Camilla had set her bucket ofwhitewash.” Luella shook her head. “I mean, poor Camilla. There she was, halfway down a line of pickets, completely oblivious that Esmerelda’s wiggling was going to send the post wobbling to such an extent that it would knock the bucket of paint over, drenching her with whitewash in the process.”
“I’m sorry to have missed that one, although I did see the results of the paint-dousing once I got home and found Camilla out in the stables, dunking her head in the horse trough, which isn’t something I ever thought I’d see.”
Luella leaned forward as they rode underneath a low-hanging branch. “She took it in stride, though. Didn’t even shriek when that paint went raining over her. Simply took the rag I handed her, told me to mark our place in the etiquette book she was making me read out loud while she whitewashed the fence, then told Aunt Elma, Meemaw, and the sewing bee ladies that she’d be back the next day to finish the job. It was quite impressive how she then lifted her chin and strode off like she wasn’t dripping paint everywhere, electing to walk all the way back to the country house because she didn’t think it would be fair to get paint all over her horse.”
“From what Meemaw told me, the sewing ladies were rather impressed that a fancy lady like Camilla didn’t descend into a fit of the vapors once the paint went flying, and that she actually did show up the next day to finish the fence, although she’d evidently wrapped her head in a turban to be on the safe side.”
“She also brought El Cid with her,” Luella added.
“To keep Esmerelda in check?”
“Indeed, and oddly enough, it worked. As long as El Cid was next to Camilla, Esmerelda contented herself with simply lounging beside the cat, never bothering to give her bottom a scratch on any of the pickets Camilla was painting.” Luella shook her head. “I kept trying to convince Camilla to let me help her, since whitewashing usually doesn’t take but a few hours, but she was having none of that. Told me my job was to get through the etiquettebook while she painted, and then, after I finished the book, she took to quizzing me to see if the chapters had sunk in.”
“She’s been quizzing me too, after I get home from the factory, mostly to see if I’ve made any improvements with my conversational skills, which is where she’s been concentrating her efforts with me lately in her quest to turn me into a sophisticated titan of industry.”
Luella snorted. “I’m not surprised she’d focus on your conversational skills, not after you told Nems last Sunday during church that he needed to stop eating ramps past Thursday since he was proffering a smell that was stinking up the entire chapel—a smell I believe you said smelled like Nems had been run over by a carriage and left to rot in the middle of the road for a week.”
“It’s not like I said anything that everyone else wasn’t thinking,” Owen grumbled.
“True, but that doesn’t matter, since, according to Camilla—who was gracious enough to not give you a dressing-down in front of everyone, but waited until we were in the carriage riding home—the only socially acceptable response to a smelly person is to ignore the stench and simply continue with your conversation as if nothing is amiss.”
“She might have rethought that advice if she’d been sitting directly next to Nems.”
“No, she wouldn’t.”
“Well, okay, probably not, but did you know that she made me apologize to Nems after we got home—and she told me to make it a good apology?” Owen blew out a breath. “Nems certainly didn’t know what to make of it at first, but once Camilla was satisfied that I’d extended Nems a sincere apology and she went off to the house, Nems took to looking rather dazed before he told me that if I didn’t already have my eye on Camilla, he might try his hand at courting her because, in Nems’s words, ‘Dem dare woman is as close to an angel as anyone done ever seen.’”
“Ah, so Nems realizes you have your eye on Camilla.”
“Of course I have my eye on Camilla since I promised I’d keep her safe. It would be impossible to do that if I wasn’t keeping an eye on her.”
“You know that’s not why you’re always watching her, or why you make it a point to come home early from work every day so you’ll have enough time to get all spiffy-looking before quadrille practice, which you know you look forward to because it gives you an opportunity to get Camilla in your arms.”
Since Owen certainly couldn’t argue with that, nor did he feel like getting into a conversation with his sister that centered around his inability to be anything but fascinated with a matchmaker who intrigued him more than any woman he’d ever met, he settled for sending Luella a smile before he kneed George into a run.
It wasn’t really a surprise when Luella caught up with him a moment later.
“Nems wouldn’t really try his hand at courting Camilla,” Luella called to him, because of course she’d want to continue their conversation even while riding their horses at breakneck speed. “He’s actually a bit sweet on Bernadette, but don’t tell him I told you that because he’ll just go complaining to Camilla during what Nems calls his ‘gettin’ down to turnin’ into a proper gent time.’”
Owen slowed George to a trot. “Nems has dedicated special time to spend with Camilla?”
