Cocky Earl: A Regency Cocky Gents Novel

by Annabelle Anders

  “You will change your mind.” At her side now, his breath was hot and damp near her ear. It wasn’t quite a whisper, but more of a softly spoken promise.

  If he kissed her now, she surely would melt onto the floor. Her eyes fluttered shut and her body swayed toward his.

  “Your maid?”

  Charley tilted her head, craving his mouth on her neck. Just one kiss. Her skin, so close to his mouth, ached for his touch.

  “Charley?”

  Soft laughter sounded in his voice this time. She liked the way it felt. It was like she’d come to life for the first time. Those butterflies were now buzzing around inside of her—only butterflies didn’t buzz, she corrected the imagery. Bees did.

  Her maid? Oh, yes. Daisy was just inside, likely doing her utmost to eavesdrop.

  Charley inhaled deeply in an effort to extract herself from this magnetic pull she’d been caught in.

  “Just inside.” Her voice came out sounding hoarse.

  Jules didn’t move away from her, but instead, casually leaned against the wall beside her, staring down.

  His gaze settled on her mouth. Was he going to kiss her again? Without even realizing it, her lips had parted. It was difficult to breathe with him so near.

  “I have your first lesson planned for tomorrow. And it’s something I think you’ll enjoy.”

  “Lesson?”

  His fingers still had hold of her braid and were slowly sliding upward. Charley released the door frame and hugged her coat with both arms now.

  “It’s more of a sport, really.” His voice sounded gruff, lower than usual. Charley caught a whiff of his breath—whisky, spicy warmth, and something earthy—Jules. She crossed her legs and squeezed her thighs together. The foyer suddenly felt much warmer than it had a moment ago.

  His gaze locked with hers and when she swayed, he grasped her shoulder.

  “A sport?” Her own voice was barely a whisper. She cleared her throat. “What is it?”

  “You will know soon enough.” He moved his fingertips from her braid to just below her lips. Her head felt heavy and she would have tipped it back, offering him her mouth if a scuffling sound from inside hadn’t reminded her that they weren’t truly alone. She clutched her coat tightly against her breasts and straightened her spine.

  “Are you certain you still want to go through with all of this?” Because all of this was fake and then none of it felt fake and she had no idea what they were doing at this point. The man stole her ability to think far too easily! “You aren’t bothered that your sister will tell Lady Felicity?”

  He dropped his hand and took one step back, lines furrowing his brow. His withdrawal ought to have given her relief but left her feeling empty instead.

  “I’m meeting with my mother first thing in the morning. I trust Bethany won’t do anything without talking to me first.”

  “Will you meet with Lady Felicity? I know you said that nothing was official between the two of you, but I hate to think that she’ll be hurt by all of this. What if she’s in love with you?”

  Jules’ gaze didn’t waver from hers. “She might be a little disappointed, but Felicity is most assuredly not in love with me.”

  Relief filled her chest, loosening her limbs. But…“How do you know that?”

  “Trust me, I know when a lady is interested in me.” Damn that cocky grin. But then he just as quickly grew serious again. “But if it will make you feel better, I will make a point to speak with her as soon as possible.”

  “You will tell her about the bet and that it is all pretend?” If he agreed with her on this then Charley could perhaps rein in the emotions threatening to change everything.

  Very slowly, he shook his head. “The wager is inconsequential at this point and there’s no need for anyone to know it ever even existed. I will tell her I intend to marry you. The same as I am going to tell my mother.”

  His confidence almost had her believing it.

  A thumping sounded behind her, louder this time.

  “Until tomorrow, then.” She expected him to bow and take his leave, but instead, he moved swiftly, catching her up against him, and capturing her mouth with his.

  Her mouth opened, requiring no coaxing or asking. She stifled a moan as his tongue tangled with hers. She was indeed going to have to make a whiskey to name after this—after him.

  And then the kiss ended just as abruptly.

  “Until tomorrow.” He gently pushed her inside and closed the door himself.

  Chaotic need stole her wits leaving her standing inside her chamber almost forgetting who she was. What was happening?

  “I take it that wasn’t the countess.”

  Charley cried out a little when Daisy’s voice sounded behind her, but then she turned and winced as she stared back at her maid.

  “No,” she agreed. “Most definitely not the countess.”

  “That Crabtree woman ought to be the headmistress at some school for girls. I believe she’s missed her calling.”

  “Or a warden at Newgate,” Jules suggested, glancing sideways at Mantis from where he sat atop his mount. All five of them had risen with the sun and had been riding all out for as long as the horses could safely do so. Now that they’d come to a halt, he expected to endure some ribbing for the night before.

  “Wasn’t sure we ought to come to your rescue,” Chase leaned forward to adjust his seat. “Figured you’d fulfill the terms of the wager easily enough if you were caught. She couldn’t exactly refuse you if she’d been compromised.”

  Last night had not been the first time they’d had to rescue one of their gang from a determined chaperone or mother. Normally, however, it was to prevent any of them from taking on an unwanted lifelong leg shackle.

  But Jules would not compromise Charley into marriage. He’d have her shackled to him willingly.

  It was only a matter of time.

  “I’m glad you did,” he responded.

  “What of Lord Brightly?” It was Greys, of course, who would suggest yet another conversation Jules needed to have. “Best clear matters with him before he suspects something.”

  Stone soothed his horse as it pranced to the side but then caught Jules’ eye. “I’m inclined to agree with Greys. Brightly not only alluded to your two families uniting in marriage but commented several times that he’d become impatient for the announcement.”

  Jules tightened his jaw, but then forced himself to relax, knowing Hercules would absorb his stress through his seat. He’d initially accepted the bet believing there was no way he could lose. But had he already been hoping for a way out of everyone’s expectations? It wasn’t that he didn’t care for Felicity. She was pretty and kind and sweet. He cared for her a great deal and had hoped that over the years his feelings might change as both of them grew older.

  They hadn’t. She was too much like a sister to him.

  Jules recalled a few of the comments Brightly had made to him recently regarding meeting together to discuss important matters. The earl was growing impatient and Jules had known this moment was coming.

  Thank God he hadn’t signed anything yet, or even agreed verbally to their understanding.

  Feeling an urgency to tie up these complications so that he could openly court Charley, he turned his horse back toward the manner. “Now is as good a time as any.” He also needed to do something about the Crabtree woman before she set to harassing Charley again.

  “Go ahead without us.” Mantis waved him away. “I’m sure any of us will be happy to serve as your second if Brightly insists upon restoring his daughter’s honor over pistols.”

  Jules sent Mantis a scowl “Very funny.” But it wasn’t.

  “Sure it is.” Mantis wasn’t one to dance around Jules’ feelings though and simply shrugged.

  In answer, Jules jerked his neck to the side, enjoying the satisfying crack and Grey’s resulting wince.

  “Noon?” Jules would confirm the plans he’d made with them earlier before taking his leave.
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br />   “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Chase supplied for all of them.

  Blasted irreverent reprobates.

  A half an hour later, Jules rubbed the smooth side of his jaw and then angled his head so that his valet could slide the blade just as easily along the other side. He’d decided it would be best that he didn’t smell of horses when meeting with his mother, Lord Brightly, and then Felicity.

  “Did you ever think to marry?” he mused aloud to his valet going on three years now, Mr. Robbins.

  Robbins hesitated for a fraction of a second and then expertly drew the blade through the lather. “I was married.”

  “You never told me that, Robbins. Seems a man ought to know such information about the person who holds a blade to his throat daily.”

  “You never asked, my lord.” Robbins rinsed the knife in the basin beside him and tipped Jules head back a few more inches. “For twelve years.”

  “Might I ask about it now?” Jules kept his eyes closed, perfectly relaxed. Without his own father to turn to, Jules would glean any information he could from another gentleman who’d experienced the marital state.

  “You may, My Lord.”

  “Did you love her?”

  “More than life itself,” Mr. Robbins said, sounding as stoic as ever.

  His valet was good at that. He could give Greys a run for his money when it came to arrogant indifference. “I didn’t think I could go on after she passed. She died when our coach overturned on the road to Brighten the summer of twenty-two.”

  “But you did. Go on, that is.”

  “I did at that, My Lord. It’s what she would have wanted me to do.” The thought of Charley meeting with some sort of accident arose unbidden in his mind. The painful sensation it invoked had him hastily pushing it away.

  Jules’ mother had hired Mr. Robbins to perform valet duties for Jules shortly after Jules’ father’s death. She’d declared most adamantly that Jules needed to look the part if he was going to take over his father’s responsibilities. He needed to act the part, as well. Jules had been in no position to argue. He’d been the cause of her husband’s demise, after all.

  Guilt was a powerful motivator, and yet he didn’t want to lose Charley in recompense for the mistakes of his past.

  When his mother stepped into his office, the familiar punch of shame forced him to recognize that the power his guilt held over him was as strong as ever.

  “You needed to speak with me, darling?” She was impeccably dressed even though most of their guests were likely only just now taking tea or chocolate in their beds. She lowered herself into the leather chair placed in front of him and then met his gaze expectantly. “Have you spoken with Lord Brightley yet, then? Or better yet, with Felicity?”

  “I won’t be meeting with Lord Brightly, Mother, at least not in the way you would have me.” It was best to tell her the truth quickly. His mother would see right through any excuses or preamble he’d attempt. Her desire for candor was actually something he rather appreciated about her. “I’m not going to marry Felicity.”

  “You aren’t ready yet?”

  “I’m not going to marry Felicity ever. I’m courting Miss Jackson.” He’d thought he might feel some regret at his decision, knowing his bachelorhood would soon be coming to an end. But as he said the words, he felt a sudden lifting of an invisible weight on his shoulders and a warmth flowing through his veins. He had to admit to himself that, oddly enough, he was looking forward to marrying Charley.

  Amongst other things.

  His mother chuckled. “Don’t scare me like that.” She drew back her shoulders. “In fact, I rather think it would be best if I sent Miss Jackson back to her grandparents rather than wait for Mr. Jackson to return. She isn’t… fitting in with the other guests. Mrs. Crabtree informed me that she hid from her in the orangery last night. We can’t have an unmarried woman cavorting about the premises with heaven knows who, now can we? I have Tabetha’s reputation to protect.”

  “And Bethany’s,” he said through clenched teeth. Although that wasn’t at all the issue here.

  “Of course.” She tilted her head, looking more serene than he knew she really was, daring him to contradict her.

  “And no doubt the doggedly attentive Mrs. Crabtree told you that Miss Jackson was with me?” he asked, cracking several of his knuckles simultaneously. “I am not joking. Please don’t make this difficult. And do call off your watchdog. I won’t have my future betrothed made to feel uncomfortable in our home.”

  His mother pursed her lips. Of course, she’d known. She’d likely noted his interest in Charley earlier, which had caused her to bring out the stern chaperone in the first place. His mother was an intelligent, discerning woman.

  “You would break the agreement made by your father before his passing.”

  “There was no official agreement.”

  “The match was decided upon years ago.”

  “I never agreed to any arrangement, Mother.”

  “Jules—” His mother reached out a hand.

  “I have an official agreement with Miss Jackson.” He’d said all that he’d intended. He wouldn’t break his word. Not losing Charley meant far too much to him.

  Jules loved his mother. She was a strong woman who looked out for her children fiercely. She was also creative and charismatic. But he couldn’t live his life for his mother.

  She removed a handkerchief from inside one of her sleeves and dabbed it at the corner of one eye. “Your father must be turning in his grave. An American, Jules? And an uncouth one at that. What on earth are you thinking?”

  He ignored the guilt she expertly summoned. “You’ll refrain from making disparaging comments about her.”

  “Did you lose a bet? Oh, Jules. Tell me this isn’t because of some wager you made with Chaswick or that Spencer boy.”

  Jules rose and crossed to the window, presenting his mother with his back. Blast and damn, she poked her nose into his business far too much for his liking. It was one thing when he’d just stepped into his father’s shoes, quite another now that he was contemplating marriage.

  More than contemplating it.

  As much as he’d liked to have fulfilled that wish on his father’s part, Jules had always had difficulty envisioning Felicity as his wife. He scrubbed his hand down his face to erase the unease he felt to even float the idea through his thoughts.

  “Spencer is hardly a boy.” He inhaled. “Inform Mrs. Crabtree that her services will not be necessary.”

  “Miss Jackson will require a chaperone now more than ever when our guests discover you are… interested in her.”

  “Courting her.”

  “Well. Yes then.” She narrowed her gaze. “Brightly is not going to be happy.”

  “I don’t suppose he will be. And I apologize if this puts a riff in your relationship with Felicity’s mother.” He winced. “But my mind is made up.”

  In her eyes, he could practically hear all the things she refused to say out loud. And then she inhaled a deep breath and released it. “Very well. I will have a talk with Mrs. Crabtree. I would still have her accompany Miss Jackson, but I will ask that she do so with less… enthusiasm.”

  The vice that had been squeezing his lungs for most of this conversation finally released. Her capitulation was a fair compromise. “Thank you,” he said.

  “Will you be speaking with Felicity then?” she asked. “Your sisters are going to be dreadfully disappointed.”

  “They’ll come to terms with my decision in time. It’s not as though they would have been the ones marrying her.”

  “But you will speak with Felicity.”

  It was not a question. Jules rubbed a hand along the back of his collar. “Of course, I will.” Damn but this was becoming more complicated than he’d imagined. “And Lord Brightly as well. And Mother?”

  “Yes, darling.”

  She smiled at him as though all of this had been resolved as she wished. He knew better.

  “Inf
orm Mrs. Crabtree that if Miss Jackson has any complaints whatsoever, she’ll answer to me.”

  Chapter 18

  EVER SHOT AN ARROW, MISS JACKSON?

  Mrs. Crabtree had presented herself at Charley’s chamber the next morning, filled with apologies and promising to perform her duties going forward in a more discreet manner. And then shortly after, Bethany and Tabetha arrived to inform Charley of the lesson Julian had arranged.

  Archery.

  Since this would be a private lesson, Bethany pointed out as Mrs. Crabtree trailed behind them, targets had been set up in the ballroom.

  “The primary benefit of this sport is that it allows ladies to show off their figure,” Tabetha announced.

  Charley rubbed the side of her face. It was a sport for hunting, was it not? A bow was a weapon, and arrows were dangerous projectiles. The English aristocracy latched onto some very unusual forms of entertainment.

  She marveled further when she stepped into the ballroom to see that it had been reconfigured once again. This time with large painted circles for targets and stacked bales of hay behind and above them. Julian stood proudly beside a table where various bows and arrows were set out, and his friends had congregated as well.

  “The gentlemen are here to assist with your instruction,” Bethany whispered beside her, a warm blush on her cheeks.

  Charley wondered which particular gentleman caused Bethany’s sudden coloring.

  “Have you ever shot an arrow, Miss Jackson?” Lord Chaswick stood posed as though he ought to be in a painting, his chestnut hair combed back neatly, dressed impeccably and holding the bow at his side.

  She smiled. “A few times.” It would be nice to participate in something in which she was not completely inept. Although the bows and arrows she’d used in the past had been smaller and less ornate.

  “Archery is a sport in America?” Bethany seemed genuinely interested.

  “Don’t be silly, Bethany! The savages use them! Do you know any savages, Charley?” Charley bristled a little at Tabetha’s question. “Has your family ever had to fight them off?”