If the Pierponts owned a dog, he had a feeling it would never be permitted on top of any table.
“Here we are—the pink parlor, as Miss Pierpont fondly refers to it,” Mr. Timken said, gesturing Owen into a room that certainly did seem to boast a lot of pink. There were pink chairs, pink settees, and even a pink lampshade, one that had little tassels hanging from it.
“Please make yourself comfortable,” Mr. Timken said. “I’ll be back directly with some refreshments.”
As the butler bowed himself out of the room, Owen set his sights on a pink chaise, sitting tentatively down on the very edge of it and earning a rather worrisome creak from the chaise in return.
Knowing he was hardly going to make a good impression on Miss Pierpont with his tattered sleeve, and not wanting to worsen that impression by breaking her pink chaise, he set his sights on a hardback chair, a sigh of relief escaping him when he sat down and didn’t earn a single groan from the chair, suggesting it was more than capable of supporting his weight.
He settled back, crossed his ankles, decided that was too casual of a pose and might lend Miss Pierpont the impression he wasn’t there on a serious matter of business, so sat forward again, debating whether to cross his arms over his chest or not when the door that led to the backyard suddenly opened.
His mouth went slightly agape when a woman staggered in, followed by a second woman, both of whom were streaked with mud and soaking wet.
“The first order of business is to ring for a bath,” one of the women said, “and then...”
Her voice trailed to nothing when she caught sight of him and froze on the spot. “What areyoudoing here?” she demanded.
Recognition was swift because standing in front of him was none other than Goldie, the same prickly woman he’d tried to save earlier, the storm clouds gathered in her eyes a sure sign she’d only gotten pricklier as she’d made her way home.
Before he could do more than rise to his feet, the other woman, the paid companion, whipped outhisColt Dragoon and aimed it his way.
His hands were in the air a second later.
“While I understand your shock, or perhaps it’s disbelief, over seeing me again,” he began, “may I suggest that the two of you—”
“If he tells us we need to calm down, just shoot him, Lottie.”
It was not encouraging when the paid companion, apparently Lottie, cocked the hammer and arched a brow his way. “Wereyou about to tell us to calm down?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then exactly what were you about to tell us?” Goldie demanded.
“I was simply going to suggest that the two of you get your overly excited nerves in check before someone gets shot.”
Goldie’s eyes flashed. “The only one going to get shot around here is you.”
“There’s no reason to shoot me, Goldie. As I’ve said numerous times, I’m not a threat to you.”
Flames began practically shooting out of Goldie’s eyes. “Did you just call me Goldie?”
“Since we never got around to exchanging names and you didn’t like me calling you ‘little lady,’ I did.”
“And you think Goldie is better than ‘little lady’?”
“Indeed, since I chose it due to the brightness of your hair and because I once had a dog by the name of Goldie whose coat was almost the same color as your hair, although...” He shot a glance to the hair in question. “It’s definitely not golden right now, more along the lines of dirty blond, and has me wondering what happened to you after we parted company.”
“First off, we didn’t part company. Lottie and I fled from you. Secondly, we obviously suffered a mishap, and thirdly, am I to understand you’re calling me Goldie, not simply because I usually have golden hair, but because I remind you of adog?”
He winced. “Your voice seems to have risen another octave again, but there’s really no reason for you to have taken offense because my dog Goldie was an adorable mutt that everyone loved.”
“I remind you of amutt?”
It truly was amazing how much animosity Goldie could extend his way with a few short words.
“Perhaps I phrased that poorly.”
“And perhaps Lottie really should just shoot you and put all of us out of our misery.”