“You do understand.” This time, Lady Westerley’s smile was almost genuine.
“Oh, my lady, there you are!” One of the housemaids had rushed around the corner. Her mob cap askew, and soot smeared across one of her cheeks. “Beg my forgiveness for interrupting you, but there’s been an accident in the kitchen—well, not an accident exactly, but Mrs. Jenkins and Cook are at one another’s throats and the lamb has been knocked into the fire.” The woman was obviously distressed, wringing her hands in front of her. “Mr. Goulding sent me to find you before anything else goes awry...”
The countess threw her hands in the air. “Those two must learn to get along.” She turned back to Charley. “We do understand one another, don’t we, Miss Jackson?”
“Perfectly.” Charley couldn’t help but stare at the painting on the wall and wondered if Jules’ father would have approved of his wife and Lord Brightley’s methods.
He had signed the contract, after all.
At Lady Westerley’s hesitation, Charley added, “You mustn’t worry about me. I’m perfectly capable of returning to my chamber on my own. It seems you have other important matters to attend to.”
The older woman narrowed her gaze. “I trust you’ll do as I’ve asked.” Her gaze traveled from Charley’s face to the tip of her shoes and then back up. “Because, trust me, Miss Jackson, I’ll stop at nothing where my son’s happiness is concerned.”
“Neither will I, My Lady,” Charley answered in the quiet after the older woman’s departure. “Neither will I.”
Chapter 27
ROCK? MEET HARD PLACE
Jules’ temples pounded as sunlight filtered through his closed eyelids. He wasn’t in his bed. A piece of paper stuck to the side of his face when he pushed himself to a sitting position.
The contract.
Charley.
And scotch. So much bloody scotch. If the pounding in his head wasn’t punishment enough, the dry sick feeling in his mouth ought to do the trick.
He’d made his decision and then done his best to drown the resulting guilt with his grandfather’s thirty-year-old Scottish whisky. It was what one did, after all.
A groan from behind the settee alerted him that he was not, in fact, alone. Forcing himself to focus, he identified Chase reclining along the leather settee and Mantis sprawled on the floor. Stone, Peter and Greys would have roused themselves enough to return to their respective chambers.
Oh, yes. Greys had bid them goodnight after finally winning the chess game.
After which, Chase had opened a fourth bottle. Or had it been the fifth?
A tightening in Jules’ gut gave him just enough warning to grasp hold of the nearby waste bin.
“I far prefer the sounds of birds chirping to welcome the dawn of a new day.” Jules lifted his gaze up in time to see Chase sitting up and smoothing his shirt as though they hadn’t downed half the alcohol in the manor the night before.
“Go to hell.” It wasn’t original, but Jules felt none too chipper.
Mantis laughed and then groaned from his position on the floor.
Jules located a handkerchief he kept in a drawer, wiped his mouth, and then dropped his head onto the desk again. Sitting up was far too painful. How the hell was he going to stand? To walk? He needed to see Charley and make sure his mother wasn’t going to harass her. It had been late by the time he’d bid her goodnight at her chamber door. She would have been safe enough overnight, but he needed to talk to her before she came down for breakfast.
She could not face the guests alone. Until he announced their engagement, she’d be ostracized.
This was something he should have considered before consuming what had remained in that last open bottle.
Jules sat upright and braced himself against a second wave of nausea before pushing up from his chair. Deep breath.
He swallowed uncomfortably and swayed. His blasted feet felt like bricks.
“Do you wish to answer that?”
“Pardon?” He struggled to focus as Chase strode toward the door.
“Don’t—” Jules held up a hand to try to prevent the blasted baron from allowing whoever was outside from entering but he was a moment too late.
He was in no condition to deal with his mother or Brightley this morning. The only person in the world he wished to see was Charley. After he’d washed and shaved and cleaned his teeth.
“I was hoping to find you here.” Charley peered around the door, looking curious and a little timid until Chase opened it all the way. She resembled springtime itself in a lime dress that set off her hair and even highlighted the lighter flecks of emerald in her eyes.
He must be in love if he was noticing the colors in her eyes while in his present condition.
Any other lady might have been put off by the prone but substantial sight of Mantis near the hearth. Or Chase’s wrinkled shirt. And if neither of those things sent her running, then the stench of scotch and stale cigars wafting throughout the room ought to have.
Jules rushed across the room to her. Realizing at the last moment that they were not alone, he caught himself just in time and instead of wrapping his arms around her, bent at the waist, making a proper bow.
She would be worth everything. The scandal, the guilt, even his mother’s disapproval.
Besides that, his mother would be over it soon enough. She would come to love Charley almost as much as he did… The thought was still new to him. Love?
Mantis remained inert so Jules assumed he’d passed out again, but Chase, after lifting Charley’s hand to kiss in a besotted fashion, slipped out the door, making far more ceremony of the meeting than the situation warranted.
All of Jules’ physical ailments diminished considerably now that she was here. If they had been alone, he would have held her close and buried his face in her hair.
She was his. Nothing was going to keep him from marrying her.
Clean, fresh, Charley.
But for now, he needed to tell her everything, explain the situation he faced. She’d discover the truth sooner or later and pretending the agreement didn’t exist simply wasn’t an option.
With her hands behind her back, she leaned forward and searched his gaze. “Late night?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes.” But she didn’t seem all that alarmed at his condition. She did not, however, have her usual impish swagger. It was almost as though…
“I know about the contract,” she admitted solemnly.
His churning stomach, which had temporarily declared a truce with his head, took up arms once again.
And yet she didn’t appear angry with him. She seemed unusually calm.
Wondering at any number of scenarios in which she had learned this information and at the same time needing to offer reassurance, but then also remembering that she liked to inventory scents, he drew her away from the waste bin hidden beneath his desk and toward the hearth. “Don’t mind Mantis. He drank a little too much last night, I’m afraid.”
Her response was to raise her brows. “Good to know he yet lives.”
“Well. Yes.” He jerked his head toward the liquor cabinet. “We all did, I’m afraid.”
And then, facing her, he grasped both her hands tightly. “I didn’t know about it.”
“I know.” She frowned, blinking rapidly while looking down at their hands.
Still holding her arm, he lowered her to sit on the settee beside him. This wasn’t what he’d pictured when he’d imagined seeing her today.
“This doesn’t change anything. I have every intention of marrying you.” He’d make this perfectly clear to her.
“This changes everything!” She finally met his gaze directly. “From the very beginning, you reasoned that if there had been a contract, you would have been obligated to fulfill it. And now that one has come to light, it’s your duty to comply. Marrying Lady Felicity is your first commitment.”
A dull ache filled his chest as she reminded him of his own words, his o
wn conviction.
“My father signed them. I did not.” Dishonoring his father’s promise would kill something inside of him. He rubbed his thumb along the pulse at her wrist. One week ago, she would have been correct in her assumptions. But after yesterday… Mantis was right. The living were the ones who mattered.
“You told me you would not have accepted the wager with my father if there had been an official agreement with Lord Brightly.”
Jules searched his memory of when they’d first discussed the wager. He couldn’t dispute that. It was what he’d thought at the time.
“You told me a man had nothing if he didn’t have his honor.” There was no accusation in her words, only a sad sort of acceptance.
But the truth of the matter was that he would sacrifice his honor either way. He refused to sacrifice her along with it.
“I won’t marry a man who comes to me with regrets—one who might someday hate me for doing so.”
Jules leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. “I made love to you, Charley, knowing we would marry. And because I want you in my life. I need you in my life.” This was the truth. She was his choice. “I won’t let you go.”
But her eyes swam with tears now. “And I need you too, and I want you in my life.” Jules couldn’t keep from kissing her upon hearing those words. This time, she parted her lips for him. Ah, sweet god above, she tasted of whiskey.
Which reminded him. He pulled back and covered his mouth. “Forgive me.”
She smiled but managed to look sad at the same time as her hand came up to cradle his cheek and jaw. “You must tell Lord Brightly that you will honor your father’s agreement.”
“No.”
“And you must have every intention of marrying her unless you are released.”
Fear flooded him along with frustration that he’d have to fight her along with everyone else. What the devil was she saying? “Did you not just hear me? I’m going to marry you. Not Felicity. Not anyone else.” He pinched his lips together. “You have no choice but to marry me after yesterday.”
“Julian.” Something in her voice caught at him.
“There is something you aren’t telling me.”
“Do you trust me?” She tilted her head to one side.
“Of course I do but—”
She straightened her back and lifted her chin. “You have been good and trapped. And the harder you fight it, the tighter the noose will get. Trust me.”
She grasped the back of his head and pulled his lips to hers this time. Her kiss felt like more of an oath than anything romantic.
“I hate it,” she gasped when they finally came apart. “And I hate that you’ve been caught in this unwinnable game.”
“As long as I have you, I can’t lose.” And he wouldn’t lose.
“Precisely.” She placed her hands along the side of his face and touched her lips to his again, tenderly this time. When she pulled away, her eyes burned with a determined glint. “Now go and tell Brightly you will honor the contract.”
He shook his head. “Tell me what you have planned.” His temples were pounding again, and he couldn’t have felt more powerless if he was standing on the gallows with a noose around his neck.
“I can’t tell you, because if I do, then you cannot win.” She backed away from him, but he refused to release her hands.
“Charley.” He made one last attempt to extract whatever scheme she had cooked up. “What are you going to do?”
“I cannot tell you. If I do, then you cannot win,” she repeated and pulled free of him.
“I’m going to marry you, regardless.”
“Tell Brightly.” She backed toward the door and he already missed touching her. Damn, but he had it bad.
“Charley…”
“You,” she admonished, cocking one eyebrow, “cannot win.”
“But—”
But I,” she interrupted him cheekily, “can.”
He stared at her hard as she covered the remaining distance to the door, walking backward and holding his gaze.
”Tell him, Jules. And mean it.”
She’d asked him to trust her. What could one feisty American girl do that he could not?
After blowing him a soft kiss, she disappeared.
Then again, what couldn’t she do?
Charley had ached when she’d walked away from Jules earlier. He’d looked so terribly forlorn. He was determined to marry her—because he wanted to. That thought made her heart nearly burst with joy.
It was all she’d needed to know to set her plan into action.
Back in her chamber again, with Mrs. Crabtree and Daisy, Charley sat down and began writing out a number of notes. As much as she hated to leave details in the hands of others, she wouldn’t be able to do this by herself. Since Jules’ friends had proven willing to assist him in the past, she could only hope they would come through for her tonight.
With Mrs. Crabtree watching her every move, Charley pulled Daisy over to the wardrobe as though discussing various garments and placed one of the missives into her maid’s hand.
“This one goes to Lord Chaswick.” And then she gave her the second one in case Lord Chaswick failed to provide the assistance she needed. “And this one to Lord Greystone.”
Despite Crabtree’s persistent presence, Charley had managed to whisper most of what had happened, and what she wanted to do, and Daisy couldn’t be more excited than if she herself was attending the ball tonight.
She nodded in an exaggerated nonchalant manner, then slipped them into the pocket of her apron. Her maid—turned double agent—then collected a pile of linens as though she needed to make a trip down to laundry and nonchalantly exited the chamber.
It was rather ironic that Daisy could go out alone while Charley wasn’t allowed.
And although Mrs. Crabtree seemed unnecessarily stern, she smiled sympathetically at Charley. “You mustn’t feel too badly. Your father will arrive any day and you can put all of this behind you. I’m sure you’ll be happy to return to your home. It’s always nice to be surrounded by familiar people and places.”
It was also nice to be with the person she loved more than anyone else in the world. The thought astonished her.
Loved.
She pictured Jules in her mind as he’d appeared that morning, seated beside her and declaring that she was more important than the contract his father had signed.
She never could have imagined feeling this way for any man, let alone an Englishman, when she’d first set foot on English soil. Now she couldn’t imagine her life without him.
The thought sent ice coursing through her. Because keeping him was by no means a certainty.
So many things could go wrong.
“Ah, well,” Charley sighed and crossed the room to the large trunk that had sat mostly empty since her arrival. “If I’m to be stuck in here, I might as well entertain myself.” Inside, she located a small box. She nonchalantly opened it, eyed the stack of notes that represented more money than most ever saw in a lifetime, and pushing it aside, removed a deck of cards before closing it again.
“Very good, Miss Jackson. Very good.” Crabtree watched Charley for a while as she shuffled the cards easily and pretended to play a game of solitaire. Only after Daisy returned did the woman return her attention to her knitting, allowing Charley to get serious with her exercises.
If allowed into the game, she’d be forced to use the cards at the table, so she practiced her mucking, which involved keeping cards back that she appeared to be discarding or slipping cards off of the dealer’s discard pile. Onto her lap. Into her sleeve. She’d learned the tricks from her father a very long time ago and had only ever used them for fun.
When the card fell onto the floor for the third time in a row, she cursed under her breath. She had no idea how skilled the players at the table might be. Panic warred with determination until she was interrupted by yet another unexpected visitor.
Bethany smiled painfully as she step
ped inside and Daisy closed the door behind her. She clutched her hands in front of her and then, taking a deep breath, rushed forward, taking Charley’s hands in much the same manner Jules had earlier.
“Oh, Charley! Felicity doesn’t even want to marry Julian now. She said that before all of this she had thought that she did, but not if he was in love with someone else and now she feels absolutely horrible.” Charley went to speak but Bethany went right on talking, “She told her father this, but he insists he knows what’s best. Oh, poor Westerley.”
“Have you seen him today?”
Aside from playing her plan over and over in her mind, Jules was all that Charley could think of.
“He met with Brightly but then went to the stables. I imagine he’s gone for a ride. I hate that my mother is keeping you locked away like this. And I hate what people are saying about you.”
“What exactly are people saying?” Daisy had known what other servants were saying, but Charley would feel better knowing what she would face that evening.
Bethany frowned. “Initially, it wasn’t that bad. It was storming outside and it wasn’t fair to expect the two of you to ride home through the worst of it. But…” Her nose scrunched as she winced. “The fact that neither you nor my brother have made an appearance today makes everything so much worse. It isn’t fair of Mother at all. But she is terribly disappointed. Felicity’s mother is one of her closest friends.”
“I suppose it would help if I wasn’t an American.” Charley sighed, giving Lady Westerley some benefit of the doubt. She herself had held preconceived ideas about the English when she’d arrived. It was only natural that the countess did the same about her.
Bethany glanced toward where Mrs. Crabtree sat, no doubt listening to their every word, and then leaning forward, whispered, “Do you love him?”
“Your brother?” Charley hedged.
Bethany nodded.
“Have you ever been in love?” Perhaps Bethany would understand. Perhaps she could be of some help if she did.
The girl dropped her gaze. “Unfortunately.” Her voice came out low. “But he…” And then she smiled. “This isn’t about me, though. Do you love Westerley?”
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