Cocky Earl: A Regency Cocky Gents Novel

by Annabelle Anders

  Although some of what they were saying was true.

  Charley couldn’t think about any of that right now. The most pressing item Daisy gave her had nothing to do with the insults. It was the possibility that Felicity’s father might actually possess some written agreement settled upon between him and Jules’ father that bound Jules to Felicity after all.

  But why keep it hidden until now? Felicity’s father’s timing could hardly be worse.

  “This is impossible,” she muttered.

  If Jules’ father signed a contract with Lord Brightly, Jules would be devastated.

  Because of honor.

  Because of some age-old code that said it was one man’s responsibility to uphold another man’s word. As his father’s son, Jules believed it was his duty. And Jules, being Jules, would feel even more compelled to do so because of the entire debacle of him missing the duel. Would he be able to live with himself if he were to shirk it, if he upheld the promise he’d made to her rather than the one his father made?

  She knew the answer before she was even finished asking herself the question.

  The regret would eat away at him forever. It was possible that it would eventually erode his affection for her—for the family they might have.

  “I’ve been given more than any man could ever want or need—before I was even born. What good am I, Miss Jackson, if I act without honor?”

  The tea ought to have warmed her insides but a cold, sick foreboding spread through her instead. “My honor is the only thing I have to lose, therefore, it’s the one thing I must do everything in my power to uphold.”

  Although Charley saw him as so much more than his title, than his position, she knew that he based the bulk of his identity on his honor.

  Love would not change that.

  If, he did, in fact, love her. She suspected his feelings were similar to hers, but she could not be certain. Would she ever have the chance to know?

  He’d gone down on one knee this afternoon. He’d taken her hand and asked her to marry him. If he walked away from her, he’d be breaking his own promise.

  Her poor, sweet, maddening Jules couldn’t win either way.

  He would be faced with an impossible decision. He could either honor his father’s commitment, a commitment which would have been made years ago, or his own—the one to her father and then his promise to her.

  Either way, his honor would be compromised.

  “Your bath is ready.” Charley hadn’t realized how long she’d been sitting but the remaining tea in her cup had grown cold. A bath. Yes. That might warm her.

  What if Lord Brightly had returned with a signed contract? She slid into the hot water, surprised at the little twinges of pain between her thighs and on her backside. Bending her knees, she lowered herself into the water until it came all the way up to her neck. What if she was with child?

  It was possible.

  Lying with him had been foolish of her and yet, she didn’t regret it. How did a person turn their back on something when it felt like the entirety of their life had led to that moment?

  It had felt more right than anything she’d ever known. All of it—the kissing, the touching, the talking, the teasing.

  And when he’d placed himself inside of her, she’d felt whole.

  He’d even asked what she thought about his ideas for turning the mill into a distillery. They were a team.

  They were an ‘us’—a ‘we.’

  Surely, a decision made years ago without his consent couldn’t take all of that away?

  Daisy poured warm water over Charley’s head and began massaging soap into her hair. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “That is an excellent question,” Charley said. “But you can be certain I am going to do something.”

  Chapter 26

  DAMN STRAIGHT

  Charley didn’t sleep much that night. If she wasn’t reliving the afternoon she’d spent in Jules’ arms, she was worrying over a situation that seemed more impossible with each second that passed.

  A situation that might not even exist, although she doubted Mrs. Crabtree would make something like that up, and the woman was intelligent enough that she would understand what she overheard.

  An advantage to being a circumspect companion, no doubt, dressed in browns and wearing a mob cap, relegated to the edge of the room. Women of such an occupation likely knew more than most of the people that they worked for.

  Charley had barely drifted off when Daisy drew the curtains back, sending sunshine across where Charley’s head lay on the pillow.

  Today she must face the other guests, knowing that they had all been talking unkindly about her the day before. Some of what they said was true, indeed, so she couldn’t fault them for their gossip. Charley was an American. She had captured Jules’ affections. And Charley might as well take responsibility for the decisions she’d made the day before. Yes, she had lain with him. She’d given him her innocence and, in doing so, experienced utter bliss.

  When someone knocked at the door, she assumed it would be her morning tea. Charley shouldn’t have been surprised, however, when Mrs. Crabtree entered behind the maid—looking as dour and stern as she had on the first day she’d trailed around behind Charley.

  “Good morning.”

  Although wary, Charley would do her best to get through this day with her dignity intact—what little dignity she’d ever laid claim to. It hadn’t been much of a priority until she’d arrived in England. All she’d cared about was her whiskey. Whiskey didn’t mind if she spent an afternoon alone with a handsome gentleman, nor did it mind if she was raised on English soil or in America.

  “Good morning, Miss Jackson.” Mrs. Crabtree stood with her hands behind her back and her back perfectly straight. “Her ladyship has asked that I have a word with you this morning.”

  Nothing good was going to come from such a statement.

  “Can it not wait until after I’ve dressed?” She had barely woken up and her eyes were yet sticky from lack of sleep. She rolled her shoulders however, seeing determination in the woman’s satisfied mien.

  “She asked that we speak first thing. As it is already half past eight, any later would not be that, now would it? It’s my understanding you are not a person who sleeps the day away.”

  “Not usually,” Charley conceded.

  Daisy lifted the lid off the dishes on the tray to reveal a variety of the offerings usually displayed on the sideboard in the morning room. Charley’s chest tightened as she began to suspect that this wasn’t so much a courtesy on the part of her hostess but rather something less… hospitable.

  “Lady Westerley believes you will be more comfortable if you keep to yourself until your father returns to Westerley Crossings. In light of your behavior yesterday, that is. For your own sake, of course. She says it ought to only be a few more days and that all you’ll really miss will be the ball. And we both know that dancing isn’t something you’re particularly fond of.” Ah, yes, Mrs. Crabtree had been sitting in the corner for the one lesson that Jules had managed to arrange —scowling and frowning that Charley had had the temerity to have the lord of the manor as her partner.

  Any other day and she wouldn’t have minded the banishment, as it only would have allowed her to spend time alone reading or thinking up new ideas for how to improve her recipes. But today? When she desperately needed to see Jules, to learn the truth about the paperwork Felicity’s father had shown him? She despised the idea of being forced to stay in her chamber.

  “She thinks to protect me from her other guests?” Charley couldn’t help but clarify. “Or protect her guests from me?” Surely, the countess didn’t expect her to remain locked inside her chamber until her father arrived back from Scotland? Charley hugged her elbows, holding her arms protectively and stifled an urge to panic.

  “You brought this on yourself.” The woman stood firm. “It will be best for you to remain out of sight.” Mrs. Crabtree strolled across the room to take a se
at by the window for all the world as though she would sit there all day if necessary. “Don’t mind me. You should eat before the food grows cold.”

  Charley ignored the food and instead allowed Daisy to assist her into the best day dress she owned. It was a bright emerald made of soft muslin and her grandmother had ordered it from a modiste they’d visited the first day after she’d arrived.

  And she was grateful for the added confidence it gave her. Because at some point, she was determined to escape her jailer and find Jules.

  She needed to know exactly what had happened yesterday, and depending on so many other uncertainties, she needed to make sure that he didn’t do anything that might ruin the plan brewing in her mind.

  She wanted him, but only if he truly wanted her—only if he loved her. And if that was the case, she wanted him to come to her with no regrets.

  But she needed to talk to him first.

  Alone.

  His muscles ached from his efforts getting the horses to pull them safely back to the manor, and his head pounded from the conversation he’d had with his mother and Brightly, but he never made it to his chamber. Even if he had, he doubted he would have slept.

  Instead, he spent most of the night in his study drinking and observing perhaps what must surely be the longest chess game in history. While Stone and Greys checkmated one another more times than any of them could count, Chase and Mantis wagered with one another over ridiculous outcomes that had absolutely nothing to do with the actual game.

  Disheartened, Jules merely settled in as an observer.

  And of course, they’d not kept their jibes to themselves. Why would they?

  Jules had disappeared for most of the day with a beautiful woman. It was their God-given duty to harass him for doing something so patently foolish.

  Helped along by the loosening effects of the remaining scotch, Jules had given them the pertinent details of his present predicament. For the most part, they refrained from offering any advice. But leave it to Stone to toss out a philosophical question for all of them to consider.

  “Honor your father’s dying decree or honor the love of your life?” He’d bent over, cue in hand, and sent the colorful wooden balls in all directions.

  “Well, the answer to that question is an easy one,” Mantis supplied. “You honor the one who’s alive.”

  All of them searched each other’s gazes upon hearing Mantis’ declaration. The concept was a startling one.

  Because honor was not something any of them would ever be careless with. It was what made each of them who they were. It gave them the ability to hold their head high. It allowed them some justification for the entitlement of their position—even if only to themselves.

  “That begs the other part of the question then.” Stone had walked around the table and then eyed Jules. “Is she the love of your life?”

  These men knew Jules better than anyone else. They lived in the same world, and for the most part, dealt with the same expectations.

  Stone, although an earl’s son, didn’t live with the same pressures. He was the second son of the Earl of Ravensdale. A man, incidentally, who hadn’t inherited until later in life and for years raised his children not far from Cheapside.

  Stone tended to see things a little differently than the others because of his unique position.

  Jules echoed the question, already knowing the answer. Was Charley the love of his life? A myriad of images, of her laughing, drinking whiskey, helping him drag the horses through the storm, and then the deep humming of satisfaction she’d breathed in his ear as he’d buried himself in her sweet warmth.

  Damn straight she was.

  Brightley could wave about contracts signed by the king himself, and Jules would find some way to circumvent it.

  He’d been lucky enough to find her. He damn well wasn’t going to lose her without one hell of a fight.

  Jules would come to her. Charley had no doubt. He would tell her about the contract and then he would explain his decision. Her imagination refused to cease mulling over the two scenarios she faced, that he faced, denying her a single moment of peace. Either he was going to honor the contract and marry Felicity, leaving Charley to face her grandparents as a ruined woman and possibly have the scandal follow her back to America. Or he was going to insist upon marrying her and live the remainder of his life feeling like he was less than a man.

  Either option, as far as she was concerned, was unacceptable.

  Unless he loved Felicity, but she could not believe that. He would not lie to her. He’d been honest with her from the very beginning.

  But there was always the possibility that he had changed his mind.

  When soft knocking sounded at the door, her suddenly racing heart had her leaping to her feet.

  She didn’t wait for Daisy to cross the room to answer, or for Mrs. Crabtree to set aside her knitting, but rushed forward in a most unladylike fashion not caring what either of them thought.

  It was not, however, Jules who awaited her on the other side of the door.

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Miss Jackson. My son has other responsibilities to attend to this morning. But I would have a word with you, woman to woman. Walk with me.”

  The countess’s voice sounded pleasant enough, and her smile appeared kind, but combined with her words and a calculating glint in her eyes, Charley braced herself for the conversation to come.

  Julian hadn’t come to her yet. Surely, he would not have sent his mother?

  Without inviting her hostess inside of her chamber, Charley turned and nodded at Daisy.

  “Mrs. Crabtree may remain with your maid.” Lady Westerley gestured toward the foyer.

  Charley straightened her back and stepped through the door, closing it softly behind her.

  “Shall we walk this way?” It was not a question, really, so Charley merely followed the countess’s regal figure through corridors that had become quite familiar by now. And ironically, enough, moments later they turned the corner that led to the gallery.

  The countess stopped at Julian’s father’s portrait, and Charley waited silently, patiently.

  “Has my son informed you of the scenario that led to my husband’s death?”

  Cautiously, Charley dipped her chin. “He has.”

  “I have no doubt Westerley cares for you. For all his charm and confidence, he is a sensitive man. He is a very good man and takes his responsibilities seriously.” The woman shrugged her elegant shoulders. “But there was a time when he did not. As most young men in his position often do, he sowed a few oats. More than a few, actually. And his father and I couldn’t help but be concerned. When Lord Casterley confronted my husband, informing him of Jules’ behavior with Lady Casterley, and that there would be a duel, my husband signed a contract with Lord Brightly—Lady Felicity’s father. They concluded that an official betrothal would bring an end to his recklessness—that such a commitment could allow him to put his irreverence for his duties and our family’s standing behind him once and for all.”

  Daisy had been right—as had Mrs. Crabtree.

  “But his father’s death did that instead,” Charley guessed, at the same time thinking that locking a person into such an agreement was not the way to keep them from rebelling.

  “It hardly seemed necessary to bring the contract to light at the time. He was…” The countess’s eyes seemed bleak and for a moment, rather than feel resentment toward Jules’ mother, Charley sympathized with her. “He was not himself. Not only had he settled down, but he cut himself off from true happiness. He bears the guilt of his father’s death, and he will bear it forever.”

  Charley knew this. It was a series of poor choices capped off with what ought to have been a miniscule miscalculation. Charley blinked away a stinging in her eyes at the thought. Her own heart would never stop aching for him because she knew he could never truly forgive himself.

  “When Felicity told Lord Brightly of my son’s betrayal, the two of us decided it was t
ime to bring the contract to light.”

  This was even worse than Charley had imagined. Jules already carried a tremendous burden of guilt and now… “Surely, you didn’t tell him the reasoning behind it?”

  “It was important that he understand why he wasn’t informed of it earlier. We kept it from him for his own good. But he is on the cusp of making a terrible mistake. It is nothing personal, Miss Jackson, but being an American, you could never become a proper countess. And although your mother was a gentlewoman, you’ve inherited far more of your father’s… American traits.”

  Charley could only nod as the countess continued. Not that she agreed, exactly, but she could accept the woman’s assessment.

  “I had not expected that my son and you would be alone together for so long. The storm made for more than one catastrophe. In your situation, however, this poses a few unfortunate complications. But my party is nearing its conclusion with the ball tonight and I’ve sent a messenger after your father, requesting he retrieve you here without delay. If he cannot, other arrangements can be made to convey you and your maid back to London.”

  Charley swallowed hard, biting back the rage surfacing on Jules’ behalf. These people had manipulated his guilt to suit their own purposes. Of course, they rationalized that it was for his own good, but he was a grown man.

  The scheme revolted her.

  She inhaled through her nose, not trusting herself to open her mouth. This was Jules’ mother. She’d been brutally honest with her, at least, Charley would credit her with that.

  It didn’t mean that she would fall into the countess’s plans, however.

  “You understand then, why I must insist you remain in your chamber and keep away from my other guests.”

  “Out of sight, out of mind?” The words came out before Charley could check them. Because surely, that was precisely what the countess meant by all of this. It was essentially what Crabtree had told her already.