“I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing your card,” Camilla said.
A second later, Owen handed a card to Mr. Timken, who glanced over it before he walked over to Camilla and handed her both items.
“As you can see,” Owen began as Camilla read through a referral Walter Townsend had, indeed, provided Owen with, “my name is embossed on my business card. That’s certainly further proof I didn’t set out to kidnap you because I doubt any self-respecting criminal would carry around a card that reveals their identity when they’re in the midst of perpetrating a crime.”
Camilla looked over Owen’s card before she lifted her head. “It says you’re the owner of Chesterfield Nail Manufacturing.”
“I am,” he admitted. “And not to brag, as I’m only telling you this as further proof I never had any intention to abduct you, but my company provides almost the entire country with nails. I also own iron ore, copper, and bauxite mines, and have factories that manufacture iron, along with steel, which is how I’ve been able to corner the market on the nail industry.”
“It sounds as if you operate a lucrative endeavor.”
“And is exactly why I have no reason to abscond with you—or anyone, for that matter,” Owen said.
“A valid argument.”
“Indeed,” Owen agreed. “And now, with that out of the way, shall we proceed to why I’m here?”
Manners drummed into Camilla since childhood had her shaking her head. “Before we get into that, Mr. Chesterfield, I believe that I need to extend to you my most heartfelt appreciation, as well as an apology. You, and at great risk to yourself, came to my rescue, and instead of thanking you for your assistance, I behaved quite badly.”
“No need to apologize, Miss Pierpont,” he didn’t hesitate to say. “You were being chased by hoodlums, and being a woman and all, well, it’s no wonder you were a little frazzled.”
Any charitable feelings she’d begun holding toward the man disappeared in a flash, but since she’d just remembered her manners, she ignored the irritation that was now thrumming through her and summoned up a smile. “How gracious of you, Mr. Chesterfield, but frazzled-ness aside, perhaps itwouldbe best if we turn the conversation to why you’re here.”
Owen set El Cid on the ground and straightened. “I’m in need of procuring your special services.”
She blinked. “Are you suggesting you’re here because you want me to sponsor you on the marriage mart?”
“The last thing I need is a wife. My life is complicated enough as it is.”
“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage then, because I have no idea what else I could possibly do for you.”
Owen bent over again, this time to give Gladys, who was now directing pitiful whines his way, a pat. “I need to make use of the talents you employed when you took Miss Adelaide Duveen from a wallflower to one of the most sought-after ladies of the New York Season.”
“You want me to turn you fashionable?”
He straightened again before his eyes took to crinkling at the corners. “No offense, Miss Pierpont, but I think that would be beyond those impressive skills Walter mentioned you possess. I’m well aware I’m socially inept, and, frankly, I don’t have time, what with how my businesses have been booming over the past decade, to improve my manners or concern myself with spending hours with a tailor just so I can stroll around Wheeling looking like a dandy.”
“I’m not sure, even if you were dressed in the first state of gentlemanly fashion, that a man like you could ever look like a dandy. You’re a little on the ... large size.”
“Dandies aren’t large?”
“Not the most successful ones.”
“Huh.”
Her lips twitched. “Yes, well, dandies aside, if you don’t want me to turn you fashionable, and you don’t want me to find you a wife, how can I possibly assist you?”
“I want you to take my sister, Luella, in hand,” Owen said before he caught her eye. “However, in the spirit of full disclosure, I feel compelled to divulge that, to put it bluntly, she’s a bit of a handful.”
Four
Even though Camilla normally wouldn’t consider sponsoring a lady their own brother called “a bit of a handful,” she’d still felt compelled to agree to hear more of the particulars about this Luella because ... she’d been raised to present herself to the world as a lady possessed of unwavering composure, but that composure had gone missing the moment she’d encountered Mr. Owen Chesterfield.
Granted, it hadn’t been completely beyond the pale when she’d leveled her derringer on him because she’d truly believed he was a threat. However, she’d then lost her temper, something she prided herself on always maintaining, when she’d taken him to task over the whole “little lady” business. If there was one thing that had been instilled in her by her many governesses and decorum instructors, it was this: A lady never lost her composure because doing so was considered common—a trait true ladies avoided like the plague.
A lady was also expected to exude a dignified and serene air at all times and was never to lend anyone the impression she was annoyed. That was evidently an area she needed to improve upon since, not only had Mr. Chesterfield remarked on her exasperatedstate, but Lottie had also mentioned she’d taken note of an irritated expression on Camilla’s face, and frequently at that.
Her decorum instructors, if they’d witnessed her blatant deviation from the rules of proper behavior, would have immediately resorted to rummaging around their reticules in search of smelling salts, and she certainly couldn’t have blamed them. The blatant deviation from rules that had been her constant companion from practically birth was exactly why she hadn’t refused Owen’s proposal on the spot, but had, instead, agreed to speak with him further about the matter, but only after she’d had an opportunity to change out of a riding habit that had been dripping water all over the polished marble floor, another serious breach of ladylike behavior.
