Cocky Earl: A Regency Cocky Gents Novel

by Annabelle Anders

  Jules exhaled a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

  Charley lifted the bow and slipped the arrow onto the string with steady hands. Would she hit the inner rim or the center of the bullseye? She closed one eye and then let her arrow shoot forward and land…

  On the outer edge of the outer circle. A groan of disappointment floated through the room followed by subdued applause when it barely managed to cling to the side bale of hay it protruded from. What the devil?

  He’d have to remind himself never to play cards with her. The shot was a bluff. It was a perfectly orchestrated maneuver to make the other girl feel overly confident.

  “At least this one didn’t shatter another one of Lady Westerley’s vases.” Miss Somerset edged Charley out of her way and took up her stance.

  Miss Somerset’s second shot wasn’t quite as good as her first one, landing on the inner line of the second circle. Small applause was offered once again. This contest wasn’t proving nearly as entertaining as the crowd had hoped for. Jules glanced around at their faces but was caught by the ironic expression on Greys’ face.

  Charley wasn’t fooling him either. No, in fact, this was exactly the sort of thing Greys himself would do. Greys would never accept a wager he wasn’t sure of—one of which he didn’t hold the upper hand.

  Charley lifted her bow and lined up her next shot. Jules held his breath. Would she make this one a better shot or equally as spectacularly bad?

  Jules folded his arms across his chest, pleased that he had a perfect excuse for watching her.

  He knew nothing of romantic love, but by God he wanted her. Losing the bet to her father had been a godsend.

  The onlookers gasped as Charley’s arrow landed, if possible, in what would have been the identical position where Miss Somerset’s had stuck if two arrows could penetrate one hole.

  Stronger applause erupted this time.

  Jules just barely caught sight of the disgusted glance Miss Somerset sent in Charley’s direction. He rubbed his chin as the disgruntled young lady took very careful aim for her last shot. It was as though Charley wanted the lady to take her best shot this time.

  And it was a damn good one. The near perfect bullseye sent another gasp of appreciation through the onlookers.

  Charley caught him watching her and raised her brows innocently—too innocently. As if to convince him she’d done her best and would most likely lose.

  Jules didn’t believe her stance for an instant. He rubbed his hands together when she stepped forward to shoot.

  If she won, he would have her to himself for a good part of tomorrow. He would kiss her again. He would make their courtship public once and for all. She’d accept him. Something powerful existed between the two of them that even she could not deny.

  The drop of sweat he’d felt at the back of his neck trailed slowly down his back when he noticed what appeared to be an indecisiveness on her part as she aimed.

  With her left eye closed, she wavered, paused, wavered and then with what he could only think of as the certainty of an expert, released the string.

  Not a near perfect bull’s eye.

  A perfect one.

  Looking quite matter-of-fact, she nodded in Miss Somerset’s direction. As cheers rose up as well as conciliatory appreciation for Miss Somerset, Charley sent him a sheepish smile.

  You’d damn well better pick me, sweetheart.

  What if I don’t? her deceivingly innocent expression seemed to say, goading him.

  You will.

  Stone and Mantis studied the target together, but even from across the room, Jules could easily see Charley’s was the best shot.

  “The winner is Miss Jackson,” Stone announced to eliminate any doubt. “A most excellent competition.”

  “Now, however,” Greys’ even tone and unconcerned voice silenced everyone, “the question begs to be answered. Who would you have escort you tomorrow?”

  Staring as she was at his dear friends, Jules realized she might very well choose one of them. Not because she wanted any of them, but because she had become too attached to him.

  Greys had walked her back to the manor last night, while Jules went after her cloak.

  Jules extended a few fingers behind his back so that the cracking sound might not be heard by most.

  Charley, however, turned her head to stare back at him. Looking resigned and almost disappointed in herself, she exhaled loudly. “I suppose that I shall have to choose Lord Westerley.” And then she feigned concern in her challenger’s direction. “Who is your choice, Miss Somerset?”

  Chapter 20

  BUT MY FATHER…

  “Jules?” Bethany stepped into his study with Felicity behind her.

  He’d not wanted to give Felicity the wrong impression, nor compromise her in any way by asking her to meet with him alone.

  “Thank you for coming.” What with his personal guests’ insistence that they finish off his grandfather’s bottles of scotch yesterday, Jules had failed to meet privately with either Felicity or her father yet. He was determined, however, to do so today, before the excursion to the abbey. He rose and congratulated himself on his decision to have Bethany sit in on this conversation.

  If Felicity needed consoling, Bethany could provide that. And with Bethany present, it was less likely that Felicity would feel comfortable throwing any handy projectiles his way.

  Not that that was something Felicity would ever do. She was quite English and quite proper. And, as she watched him warily from with rather soulful brown eyes, not a single blond hair out of place, he couldn’t deny that she was very, very pretty.

  But the affection he felt for her didn’t extend beyond the same way he cared about his sisters.

  “Please, sit down, both of you.” This situation required finesse on his part—something he normally didn’t concern himself with.

  He schooled his features, providing an indication that he’d discuss unpleasant news. Bethany, of course, already knew his intentions and was staring at her hands in her lap, counting fretfully if he was to take a guess.

  Felicity glanced between the two of them, confusion clouding her gaze.

  The room fell silent until Bethany purposefully cleared her throat.

  Jules lifted his gaze and met Felicity’s. “Our parents, I realize, have had longstanding expectations that the two of us should marry.”

  He gave her a moment to say something. Did he hope she’d laugh it off and contradict him? Still, she nodded in a wary manner.

  “But they never came to an official agreement.” At these words, she tilted her head and three tiny lines appeared between her brows.

  “I had thought—”

  “Not even a verbal one,” he continued, “and I’ve hesitated to act on their expectations for quite some time because I have not sensed romantic inclinations on your part, nor have I experienced them on my own.” Good God. What if he had been wrong? “Unless I am mistaken?”

  And what if he was? Would that change anything? He met Bethany’s eyes and hell if her scowl didn’t give credence to his misgivings.

  He ought to have discussed matters with Felicity before he began courting Charley. He should not have accepted the bet to begin with.

  But would he have taken the time to discover that Charley Jackson was more than an American with startling red hair and eyes the color of an enchanted forest?

  Damned straight he would have. Even before he’d met her, she’d more than pricked his awareness.

  He would have been free to pursue her of his own inclination, without the guise of duty… without other complications that could possibly rise up to bite him in the arse.

  “You are not mistaken, Jules.” But Felicity’s smile was brittle, and her eyes shinier than they’d been a moment before. “You are in love with Miss Jackson.” Her words had him bolting upright in his seat.

  He was not in love with anyone. He liked Charley—very much. But it was impossible to love someone after such shor
t acquaintance. “I am courting her,” he clarified without having to disclose any feelings he may or may not have. “I intend to marry her.”

  “I had thought so.” Felicity turned to Bethany, who smiled sympathetically.

  “My brother is a cad of the worst kind and if you feel the need to throw something at him, I will do nothing to prevent you from doing so.” Without even hesitating, his dearest sister lifted a paperweight off the desk and extended it to her.

  Felicity did not take it but turned to him with a sigh. “Have you mentioned any of this to my father yet?”

  “I wished to speak with you first.”

  Another sigh. “Yes. Well.” And then she dropped her gaze to the floor. “I had hoped…” She sighed heavily.

  Julian’s fists clenched at his side. This was the right thing. This discussion was long overdue. He had brotherly feelings for Felicity. If they’d married, both of them would have ended up unhappy.

  If Charley hadn’t come along, he might have fallen in line with their families’ expectations because… it had been expected of him. He’d have done it out of loyalty and duty and a disastrous marriage would have been the result.

  “My father is not likely to take this very well.” Felicity’s voice broke, and Bethany reached across the space between their two chairs and handed her a scrap of linen.

  The frown Bethany sent him could not have been any deeper. But she’d returned the hefty paperweight to his desk and he appreciated that.

  Jules would have to deal with Brightly later. He met Felicity’s stare and ran a hand through his hair. “I am truly sorry. I know you’re going to make a wonderful wife for somebody.”

  “Just not you.”

  Jules pinched his lips together. “Just not me.”

  The chiming of the large clock on his mantel seemed a perfect excuse to put an end to this conversation.

  But he would have her be the one to do it. Perhaps she required a moment before leaving the privacy of his study.

  “Did you have any questions? Is there anything else you would like to know?” God knows why he hadn’t realized he’d come away from this conversation feeling like shite. No doubt he’d known this deep down and that was why he’d put the meeting off.

  Those wrinkles appeared between her eyes again. “You are quite certain our fathers didn’t sign any contracts?”

  “I’ve gone through all my father’s paperwork.” He’d done so diligently. Perhaps in an effort to assure himself that he wasn’t legally obligated? That he was not honor-bound to such a duty thrust upon him from the grave? “I’ve found nothing. Besides that, my father would have told me. He wouldn’t have kept news of my own betrothal from me.”

  “I suppose…”

  “Are you up to going to the abbey still, Fel?” Bethany asked.

  Felicity blinked. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” This was what he’d expected. In all the time their families had known one another, he’d never seen Felicity give into a temper or fit of vapors. She would hold her head high.

  But he’d hurt her and felt like a heel for doing so.

  Bethany studied Felicity carefully. “Should we collect our wraps then?” She gave a quick glance at the clock sitting on the mantel. “Guests will be coming down soon.”

  The girl he’d once thought he would marry rose gracefully and dipped her head. “I appreciate your honesty, my lord. I do not hold any ill will toward you.”

  “Don’t hesitate to come to me, please. If you need anything.”

  Her eyes met his ironically. Just don’t expect me to marry you, they seemed to taunt.

  Even so, his offer was sincere.

  Felicity exited, Bethany trailing behind her.

  “Beth?” Jules voice halted is sister. She twisted around, brows raised, and a warmth of gratitude rushed through him.

  Bethany often went unappreciated, but she was a constant help to all of them. She had been for as long as he could remember.

  “Thank you.”

  She smiled, eyes shining suspiciously, and then nodded.

  He remained standing several minutes after the door closed behind the two ladies, contemplating friends, family, women—one in particular—and the future.

  He hadn’t returned to his seat when a quick knock sounded and Mantis, Chase, Stone, and Peter sauntered in. With their presence came a sense of relief. They’d surely chase away the sentimental mood he was slipping into.

  “Well?” Stone asked, making no pretense as to the nature of his question.

  Just as he’d not realized the guilt he’d experience by making his feelings known to Felicity, neither had he expected the sudden sense of weightless freedom now that he’d completed the task. “I am free to marry Miss Jackson.”

  “This ought to have been the perfect opportunity for us to remain holed up and commiserate with you as you drown your sorrows.” Chase punched Jules’ arm.

  “We’ve managed to commiserate well enough already these past few days without having any sorrows to drown,” Peter pointed out, extracting his cello from the corner where he’d left it the night before.

  “Felicity?” Mantis inquired, showing a hint of sensitivity.

  Jules winced. “She wasn’t pleased.” But neither had she collapsed in tears.

  “Well then, old man. I suppose you have some courting to do.” Stone punched Jules’ other arm and damn it if the blighter held anything back. Jules returned the favor and proceeded to lead them out to the carriages.

  He had something to show Charley on the way to the Abbey and was hoping she’d finally accept his offer.

  And he was going to take his time kissing her, that was damn sure. Where he was taking her, there would be no interruptions.

  Charley arose early the next morning so she could take breakfast downstairs, but before she was ready to leave her chamber, Mrs. Crabtree herself arrived with a tray laden with all her favorite foods.

  “So, Miss Jackson can prepare for the day’s adventure,” she informed Charley and Daisy before seating herself, uninvited, in a chair near the window. Charley had expected to be on the receiving end of a plethora of admonishments for the archery contest the day before and yet none was forthcoming.

  “Did you really learn to do that from Indians?” Charley was digging into her eggs when the woman asked her question, looking almost impressed and a little in awe.

  Biting back a grin, Charley shook her head and spread preserves on her toast. “I had one Indian friend, but I learned from one of my father’s employees.” Although she and Lyncoya had practiced together once. “And we shot mostly from atop a horse.” Astride, of course. Charley had seen ladies ride sidesaddle and would rather walk than put either herself or her horse at such a disadvantage.

  “The contest itself was unseemly, which goes without saying, but Miss Somerset didn’t give you much of a choice.” Her companion’s newfound support astonished her even more than having breakfast served in her chamber. “She’ll want to look her best for the excursion,” Mrs. Crabtree said to Daisy, “but will need to wear comfortable shoes for the hike.”

  “Have you been? To the abbey?” she asked Mrs. Crabtree.

  “I have, Miss Jackson. When I was first hired on, five years ago. The steps were crumbling even then, but I imagine it will stand another five hundred years or so.”

  As Mrs. Crabtree regaled her with the extensive arrangements Lady Westerley had undertaken, Charley realized that she wouldn’t be walking alone with Jules. Most of the guests planned to make the trip and take tea even if they had no intention of making the climb.

  Her heart dropped, and she barely was able to keep herself from groaning out loud. Because if they couldn’t be alone, he was not going to be able to kiss her. Even more disappointing, she reminded herself, was the possibility that she and Jules wouldn’t be able to talk—just the two of them—about subjects that mattered and interested both of them.

  Charley dropped her lashes and smoothed her skirts while Mrs. Crabtree jumped to
the subject of the weather. There was no reason to be disappointed, really. The outing in and of itself promised to be a lovely one.

  She’d heard mention of the Abbey earlier and knew it had been built in the late sixteenth century. Yet another aspect of England that had earned her reluctant approval. A structure that managed to remain standing for fifty years was a great accomplishment at home but only if it was maintained properly.

  America was like a child, still growing, and would likely face a myriad of growing pains as it did so. Yes, it was home, and yes, she felt a great pride to be a part of something so bold and exciting as an entirely new country but…

  She did not approve of the slavery. Or Mr. Jackson’s policies toward the Indians. And what bothered her even more was that she could not speak up in her disapproval. Even her own father didn’t want to hear her thoughts on the matter.

  “Was I wrong to request that Lord Westerley accompany me?” She’d not thought she cared if she’d been right or wrong to do so but she was almost starting to feel as though she belonged, and she didn’t want to do anything that would threaten her newfound friendships.

  On the other hand, she wasn’t sure if Jules had talked to Lady Felicity yet. What if she was in love with Jules? Charley was certain he was not in love with Lady Felicity. He never would have accepted the bet if he had been. But Charley hated to think the other girl would be hurt by any of their actions.

  And then she stared at her hands. He never would have accepted the bet if he’d loved Felicity. The thought niggled at something in her brain, but she couldn’t quite make sense of it.

  Enjoying her time in England while contemplating her life at home was setting her nerves on edge. She’d not foreseen this…doubt. She’d not expected to question who she was or what she wanted. She’d planned on enduring the season for her father’s sake, to fulfill her mother’s wish for her, and then return home as the same person she’d been when she left.

  “You were not wrong. It’s what most ladies would have done. However, the countess has certain expectations.” Mrs. Crabtree’s voice jolted Charley out of her musings. “So long as you act with undue propriety, his accompanying you can likely be attributed to proper host behavior.”