Cocky Earl: A Regency Cocky Gents Novel

by Annabelle Anders

  “Are you well rested, Miss Jackson?”

  Charley inhaled sharply at the sensation of his breath whispering along her cheek and jaw.

  Not wanting to be rude while Felicity performed, Charley nodded in response. A buzzing sensation filled her, and her breaths no longer filled her lungs.

  What was the matter with her?

  It was him.

  Him and the memory of how badly she’d wanted him to kiss her.

  Seated beside her, Julian took up considerably more space than Mrs. Crabtree had and although the music was flawless and melodic, it wasn’t capable of distracting Charley from the unnerving sensation of the length of Lord Westerley’s thighs skimming the length of her own. In a matter of seconds, her entire awareness became focused on his every move. The slight shifting of his arm and how it brushed the material of her gown. His deep and even breathing. Everything he did seemed to have some ulterior motive.

  Which was positively ridiculous.

  Any thoughts she’d had, opinions, or concerns, paled in significance as she did her best to maintain her composure.

  She hadn’t felt this way when he’d walked with her that first morning outside, nor when he’d shown her the paintings of his ancestors.

  Not to this extent, anyhow.

  When applause erupted around them, Charley clapped belatedly realizing that she’d missed most of the performance.

  “Ah, it seems that your shadow has returned.”

  “My shadow?” Charley turned her head and found her face ridiculously close to his again. He shattered her equilibrium most effectively.

  But this was a fake courtship, she reminded herself.

  He wasn’t a fake gentleman, the other half of herself argued back. These feelings aren’t fake.

  “Your cloak, Miss Jackson.” Mrs. Crabtree’s voice broke through the fog of awareness Charley had fallen into.

  “Will you walk with me, Miss Jackson?”

  Not trusting her voice, she nodded again. Perhaps all the scotch she’d drank earlier was having a delayed effect on her ability to speak.

  “It is rather warm in here.” Rachel Somerset waved a fan below her chin. “How thoughtful of you to suggest it, my lord.”

  Sounds of conversation buzzed around Charley as the other guests discussed the prospect of an evening stroll outdoors. When her cloak appeared before her, she thanked her chaperone and went to rise.

  “I sent my sister to fetch ours. We’ll be ready shortly,” Rachel Somerset volunteered.

  But of course, Jules had invited them all. Why had Charley thought he wanted to be alone with her again?

  A few maids arrived with armfuls of winter coverups, and Bethany steered Felicity in Julian’s direction. It seemed his courtship of Charley remained a private one. He’d said he would inform his family’s choice for his intended “soon.” How soon was soon? A few days? A week? At the end of the party? And when he did, would he make it known to her that he was only doing so out of duty?

  This was a foreign land and everyone around her had been strangers up until a few days ago. Homesickness washed over her slowly at first and then, when Julian assisted Felicity into her coat, another emotion crept in, a far more disturbing one.

  A wave of heat spread across her cheeks. Jealousy.

  It didn’t matter that she was drawn to him. He only wanted to fulfill the requirements of the bet he’d made to her father. When her visit here ended, she would return to America. She would work on her new recipes and convince her father to try her strategies to sell the more flavorful blends.

  It would be stupid beyond all comprehension for her to fall for the earl. She could never live in his world nor could he live in hers.

  “Shall we, Miss Jackson?” He’d returned to her side and, smiling down at her, tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.

  Charley did her best to dismiss the confusion she was feeling and nodded. A general shuffling ensued, and the entire group filed toward the terrace door. She and Jules wouldn’t be alone together, and that was for the best. She would stop imagining that he liked her for anything other than making good on his wager with her father.

  “In the summer, we light torches along the paths but since it is only March, we’ll have to walk by the light of the moon.” His pleasant comment rolled out easily as they stepped onto the paved promenade. He was perfectly at ease while his nearness sent all her nerves jumping. Was it possible she was simply that American girl to him? Another lady to charm?

  And then an altogether different doubt nagged at her.

  “Did you tell me about your wager with my father so that you could court me in a manner that I would not wish to accept your offer?”

  He stopped abruptly and glared at her while another couple skirted around them. By his furrowed brows and clenched jaw, it was easy to see that he was not at all pleased.

  But along with his displeasure, confusion clouded his beautiful blue eyes.

  “I had no such intentions.” His chest rose and then fell. With a slight jerk, he made that cracking sound with his neck. “I’ve simply tried to be honest with you. If I was you, I would be none too pleased to discover that I had been deceived regarding something so important as marriage.” Facing her, his back to the windows, he stared off into the darkness. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you, Charley.” He met her eyes, his blue ones almost black as night.

  “But it’s all a falsehood.”

  “No. You’re wrong.” In one quick motion, he glanced around, grasped her arm, and led her swiftly around a corner. Sounds of the other couples conversing in the vicinity faded away as he drew her farther from the manor along a path that disappeared into some shrubs and trees.

  She knew she ought to resist him, but the last time they’d been alone she’d not been disappointed. They’d exchanged secrets about themselves and tasted Scotch whisky. Would he kiss her this time? His hand felt warm on her wrist and it was easy to give into his strength. That giddiness rose up in her throat, and her heart raced in a combination of guilt and excitement. “Mrs. Crabtree will come searching for me.” It was only right that she show some sort of reluctance.

  “Mrs. Crabtree can hang.” He led her by the hand as the path narrowed.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m not kidnapping you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  He really did not sound all that pleased with her. “Of course, you aren’t.” She chastised herself for sounding almost disappointed.

  Charley barely made out the glass of the orangery ahead as they emerged from the tall shrubs he’d been dragging her through. “Oh!” Her head tilted back as she admired the glass reflecting the moonlight. She’d thought they were going away from the manor when he’d only been taking her around it.

  He opened the door and drew her inside.

  “I think this is my favorite place on the whole of your estate.” She spoke in awe, momentarily forgetting their discussion when the humid air caressed her face. The warm interior reminded her of walking along the beach near her father’s home in early August.

  Without asking, he assisted her out of her coat and gestured toward an intimately arranged seating area with two chairs made out of bamboo. A chaise lounge was placed opposite the chairs.

  She lowered into one of them while he paced back and forth a few times. Having apparently worked out some sort of problem, he finally sat at the foot of the chaise beside her. Resting his arms along his knees, he studied the ground between his feet.

  “Tell me what to do so you won’t feel like you’re a piece of property being bartered. I never intended for you to feel that way, nor do I want you to think I am trying to deceive you.”

  She couldn’t help thinking he looked vulnerable in that moment, with his head bowed and his shoulders slumped.

  He’s dead because of me. Julian’s words from earlier chose that moment to replay in her mind. It had not been fair of her to accuse him of manipulating her. He’d treated her with only
respect. She’d made him angry, possibly hurt him too. To attack the honor of this man in particular, was likely the worst insult she could make.

  “I’m not used to…” Charley wished that she could see his eyes. “It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s everyone else.” Including her father.

  Her own words stunned her. Because she’d not allowed herself to acknowledge this before. He had always been her hero.

  “My father loves me,” she said. “I know that deep down he loves me. And he values my ideas.” Another realization had her feeling as though she had been thrown into a black void. “As long as they line up with his.”

  Julian was watching her now, the midnight blue of his eyes warm and understanding. He didn’t contradict her or defend her father.

  “He is opening a new distillery. In Nashville—near Knoxville.”

  Julian nodded, encouraging her to continue.

  Of course, he was already aware of this information. “He intends to use slaves and this… distresses me. It isn’t right. I’ve told him how I feel.”

  Everything that had happened over the past few months was suddenly becoming crystal clear to her. “I love my country. I love my father. I even like Mr. Jackson, and I feel horrible about his wife dying as she did. What happened to her wasn’t fair, and I know that the president loved her most ardently. But although I pity him, I hate so much of what he stands for.” She blinked away tears. Tears for the woman who died prematurely but also tears that she could do nothing to change her father’s mind. Because above all things, her father was an ardent champion of Andrew Jackson and particularly the president’s plans to expand slavery westward.

  “My father is a capitalist. He is a businessman, and he is always looking for opportunities to increase profits.”

  “Slavery is inhumane.” Julian turned his legs, facing her. “It is not legal in England, but that hasn’t prevented Englishmen from exploiting people in other lands. Many believe that if they don’t actually see it, it doesn’t exist. But we are guilty as well.”

  Her eyes opened wide. Somehow, knowing he felt the same sent relief washing through her. Most of the people she knew at home believed the same as her father. Although slavery wasn’t openly practiced in Philadelphia, it was an essential cog that drove the economic system of people all around her. It was the most essential cog in Tennessee.

  “You are a lord. Is there nothing you could do?” Even to her own ears, her question sounded naïve.

  He did not scoff, however. “My father voted to make trading slaves a felony. But the 1811 Act didn’t address freeing those persons already trapped.” Jules rubbed the back of his neck. “There is a movement to abolish the practice throughout the empire but… we aren’t there.”

  She was a little in awe.

  “My father hates when I bring this up. He insists I simply don’t understand business.”

  “You think that is why your father brought you here?” He reached a hand across the few inches of space that separated them to take her hand.

  “So that he doesn’t have to fight me on this? Am I imagining it?” Stinging burned the back of her eyes. She hated this wedge that had worked its way into her relationship with her father.

  Julian squeezed her hand. “It’s also possible that he’s just looking out for your well-being. And that he’s fulfilling the promise he made to your mother.”

  She nodded. Although, she had difficulty completely dismissing her suspicion after he set up a possible betrothal and refused to allow her to accompany him to the distilleries. He was pushing her away. Was that what this trip had really been about? And yet… “I love him.”

  “Fathers are not perfect, but we love them, nonetheless. It’s upsetting when, as we grow older, we discover their imperfections.”

  “You loved your father.” She stated the obvious. “Tell me one of his imperfections.”

  “I can’t.” He stiffened. When he went to draw away his hand, she refused to release him.

  “But he had them.” Charley watched what seemed to be a battle of emotions in his expressions. “You just said that we still love them even knowing they aren’t perfect.”

  “I cannot dishonor him.” His voice came out gravelly. “Not after precipitating his death.”

  “Does it dishonor a person to embrace their humanness?” Charley thought about her parents. She had been quite unforgiving where her mother was concerned. Had she merely convinced herself that her mother didn’t love her? “Forgive me.” She was no one to offer any sort of advice.

  “I’ve forgotten why I brought you out here.” His features softened.

  “You didn’t come to dinner.” She could hardly tell him that she missed him. Silly, really.

  Only… He was not at all the person she’d initially taken him to be. Something squeezed her heart at the realization. He was not her enemy. In fact, she was coming to… care for him.

  As a friend, perhaps? More than a friend?

  He used his thumb to draw small circles on the back of her hand, making her feel like her limbs had been filled with a warm heavy syrup.

  “Did you miss me?” His question echoed her own misguided thoughts.

  “It is fake.” But somehow, she was losing her conviction.

  “Why do you persist with that?” He tilted his head.

  “You are courting me so that you can honor the wager you made with my father.” She inhaled a deep breath. “Not because you want to court me.”

  Her words finally seemed to penetrate his understanding. He nodded but then blinked and shook his head.

  “No.” A tiny wrinkle appeared between his eyes. “I’m courting you because I want to.” Amazement underscored his words.

  “But why?” She wouldn’t doubt his answer. She was coming to trust him. Was it possible that he actually—”

  “Because I like you.”

  Chapter 16

  PESKY CHAPERONES

  He liked her.

  Very much.

  The comprehension ought to have come to Jules earlier, but the lines between them, bringing them together, had become blurred. It went without saying that he would convince her to marry him, and he would take great satisfaction in honoring his word.

  He’d intended to marry anyhow, and although he anticipated an uncomfortable conversation with his mother in the immediate future, he wasn’t all that concerned.

  Because… Jules liked courting Charley. In fact, it seemed the most natural thing in the world now that he was getting to know her.

  And sitting here now, holding her hand in his, life felt more vibrant somehow.

  She stared back at him almost warily, and despite sitting in shadows, the golden flecks in her eyes still managed to sparkle.

  “You did say you trusted me, didn’t you?” Perhaps she needed reminding.

  His eyes dropped to her mouth as she licked her lips. What would she taste like tonight? Wine? Fruit?

  Woman?

  “Miss Jackson!” A stern-sounding female voice echoed around the glass, and Jules nearly laughed at Charley’s horrified expression.

  “Shhh…” He touched his fingertip to her lips. Damp, soft, plump lips. The blood in his veins grew hotter as he imagined all the things he could do with those lips.

  “Miss Jackson, if you are in here, I suggest you come outside before the other guests realize you’ve disappeared.”

  Charley’s eyes darted left and right, and she looked about to take flight and expose them both if Jules didn’t do something to stop her. Feeling unusually mischievous, he rose and pulled her up with him.

  “Hush,” he whispered as he led her silently around some of the thicker greenery.

  “It’s doubtful she’s in here. More likely Miss Jackson simply returned to her chamber.” Stone’s voice sounded uncomfortably close. “Come now, Mrs. Crabtree. You shouldn’t worry yourself.”

  “She’s my charge, Mr. Spencer. I take great pride in fulfilling my duties as chaperone. I would have seen her if she’d ret
urned to the manor.”

  Jules smiled to himself. Of course, Stone would know that Jules would bring her to this part of the manor. The chaise inside had come in handy for all of them on more than one occasion, what with the cushions and horizontal nature of such a piece of furniture.

  He pulled Charley closer as he ducked them into a narrow opening between an ornamental wall and one of the taller shrubs. He didn’t mind that her hair tickled his chin, nor did he mind settling his hand at her waist.

  In fact, he minded so little that an altogether different dilemma was coming up.

  Would his physical reaction bother her? Would she even understand?

  Quickly, he pictured pigs rolling in the mud. Curdled milk. A swim in a cold lake…

  “Miss Jackson, I demand you reveal yourself at once!” Mrs. Crabtree’s voice sounding nearer ought to have resolved his issue, but the threat of exposure seemed to only heighten his excitement.

  Charley inhaled sharply and then tilted her head back to stare at him with questioning eyes. He could lose himself in those eyes.

  He pressed his forehead against hers, touching his fingertip to her lips again. This time, however, he didn’t remove it but drew an imaginary line along the tender flesh just inside her mouth.

  Hurried footsteps crunched along the gravel on the opposite side of the wall, but the woman in his arms hardly seemed to notice. This time he would kiss her. And he would take his time, savor her taste until he memorized it.

  He tilted his head and bent forward to bring his mouth even with hers.

  Looking scared but also excited, she fluttered her lashes before dropping them.

  Jules’ gaze flicked to where his finger had been stroking her bottom lip and his own heart raced in anticipation.

  “Charley,” he whispered, and she nodded.

  His first taste was gentle, tentative. Her lips were softer than a flower’s petals, sweeter than her whiskey. Jules tilted his head, tasting her bottom lip, and then the corner of her mouth, dumbfounded at how quickly his heart was racing.