Owen went to rake a hand through his hair but stopped when Bernadette, who’d been fiddling with Elma’s upsweep, sent him a bit of a hiss. He settled for rubbing his jaw instead. “If you ask me, there’s been a lot of sneaking around of late. I’ve been on high alert because I keep catching Luella and Charles just wandering out of rooms—not together, of course—but suspiciously timed wanders that I know are supposed to come across as casual but are obviously nothing of the sort.”
It was difficult to resist a smile. “Luella mentioned you’ve been following her around and springing out at her from behind corners, scaring the poor girl half to death.”
“There wouldn’t be a need to scare her if she’d try behaving herself, or stop seeking Aunt Elma’s counsel, which you know centers mostly on kissing.”
“Has Elma been giving you advice about kissing?”
Instead of answering her, Owen merely gave his collar a bit of a tug before he muttered something about needing to have a word with Leopold and strode away, leaving Camilla frowning after him.
In all honesty, his reaction wasn’t exactly a surprise because she’d begun to realize that Owen Chesterfield, a man she found completely fascinating, albeit rather annoying again of late, seemed to have an aversion to kissing.
She knew full well that he’d been about to kiss her the day of the family reunion, but he’d not broached the subject of their interruption, nor had he tried to kiss her again, even though she may have—accidentally, of course—arranged for them to run across each other in spots that were far removed from prying eyes.
She’d been considering the matter at length, even during the last few quadrille practices when she’d been swept about the ballroom in Owen’s arms, but even though she’d spent hours pondering the reasons behind why Owen hadn’t attempted to kiss her again, she’d been unable to come up with a viable explanation except one—he obviously had allowed all the talk about kissing to persuade him to give it a try with her, but after they’d been interrupted, he’d come to his senses and decided that kissing her simply wasn’t something he was interested in pursuing.
It was a beyond depressing conclusion because somewhere during her time in Wheeling, she, a matchmaker who’d vowed to never marry, had apparently fallen a bit in love with a man she was convinced would make her happy for the rest of her life, but he didn’t appear to feel the same and she didn’t know what to do next.
She always knew what to do when arranging matches for other people, but in this particular instance, she had not the faintest inkling of how to proceed because—how could she possibly go about convincing Owen he longed to kiss her, or ...
“I believe the carriages are waiting on us,” Beulah called out. “Shall we get on our way to the wharf?”
Camilla gave herself a mental shake and tried to push all thoughts of kissing aside, which turned somewhat difficult afterOwen returned to her side and took her arm, escorting her to the front door, where Mr. Timken was waiting, holding the door open for them.
After sending Mr. Timken a smile, Camilla walked down the front steps with Owen, who paused at the bottom and caught her eye. “I’ve been wondering something.”
“What would have happened if we’d not been interrupted by Lottie and Edward the other day?” she heard slip out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
Owen blinked. “Is that what you’ve been wondering lately?”
She blinked right back at him. “Only if that’s what you were about to say you’ve been wondering.”
“I was actually wondering if you decided not to return to New York, if Mr. Timken would stay with you.”
Disappointment was swift, until what he’d just said began to settle. Camilla tilted her head. “Why would you wonder something like that?”
“I’d rather learn if you reallywerewondering what would have happened if we’d not been interrupted, or better yet, what you actuallythoughtwould have happened.”
“And I’d rather learn if, before you were wondering about Mr. Timken, you’d been wondering the same thing I might have been wondering.”
Owen’s lips quirked. “We seem to be throwing the wordswouldandwonderingaround quite a bit.”
“I’m sure that’ll stop if you explain everything you’ve been wondering of late.”
Before Owen could do more than consider her for a moment, Nems, who was already sitting in the driver’s seat on the carriage, released a whistle, interrupting whatever Owen had been about to say and drawing their attention.
“Woo-eee, you sure is lookin’ mighty fine, Miss Camilla,” Nems called.
“It would seem we’ve been interrupted again, but don’t think wewon’t return to this conversation at some point,” Owen said, pulling her into motion and stopping beside the carriage where Nems, sporting a neatly trimmed beard, promptly settled a smile on her.
“Why, I ain’t seen no one lookin’ as purty as you do right now, Miss Camilla,” Nems began before he settled his gaze on Owen and grinned. “Best be watchin’ over the lady tonight, Owen. Them other gents are gonna be swarmin’ around her like flies at the slaughterhouse.”
“That’s quite the image to now have stuck in my mind,” Camilla murmured as Owen laughed. After thanking Nems for what he undoubtedly intended as flattery, she stepped up and into the carriage, Owen joining her a second later.
He immediately focused his now-notorious scowl on Leopold, who was sitting on the opposite seat, all but squished between the carriage wall and Beulah, the reason behind Leopold’s squished state being Elma having insisted there was ample room for her, as well, even though she wasn’t what anyone would call a slender woman and was currently taking up more than half the seat.
Leopold ignored the scowl as the carriage trundled into motion and sent Owen a smile instead. “Given that rather fierce expression on your face, son, I’m thinking you haven’t followed through on that advice I’ve been giving you.”
Owen shifted on the seat. “I’m not looking fierce because of your advice, which, no, there hasn’t been time to take, but because Meemaw is practically sitting in your lap.”
