Cocky Earl - Annabelle Anders Page 0,17
keep up.
“In any other situation, I would find your determination commendable,” Charley disclosed reluctantly, “but in this matter…”
“My honor is the only thing I have to lose, Miss Jackson. I must protect and defend it at all costs.”
The conviction in his words sent a shiver down Charley’s spine, which made no sense at all. She was not a person easily swayed, and she’d already determined not to marry. Of course, he could not convince her otherwise when she had already made up her mind. She grinned determinedly. He could woo her, or court her all he liked, but he’d be wasting his time.
* * *
Later that afternoon, long after he’d taken his leave of her, and as Charley followed the countess and the other lady guests through the garden to the orangery, the earl’s words played themselves over and over in her head.
Because if she was to understand him clearly, this sense of honor was not something to take lightly, and his commitment to it could prove to be as stubborn as her own decision to remain unwed. It would be up to her to hold firm against any charm he might utilize in his bid to gain her consent. She must simply keep reminding herself that his attempts to woo her were not genuine and consequently had nothing to do with him feeling affection for her.
Likely, she was worrying over nothing. Resisting him ought to be easy, what with all his Britishness and his lordliness.
Although—she contemplated as she stepped through the glass doorway—it was possible he’d found her great weakness.
The blasted earl had liked her whiskey.
Thoughts of Lord Westerley took second place, however, as she stepped inside of the glass-enclosed building. Her breath caught. She tilted her head back, awed, and surveyed her impressive surroundings.
As she moved into the artificial environment, warm fragrant air washed over her like a balm, and she had to resist spreading her arms out and twirling in circles. What a brilliant idea! She glanced around at the colorful plants sprouting inside, in the middle of winter, no less, and then wandered away from the line of ladies who’d entered alongside her.
What a magical place.
The orangery didn’t only include flowers and vegetables but true to its name, it housed a handful of citrus trees—oranges, lemons, limes. She reached out to touch a leaf. They were real!
“Welcome to my favorite place on all of our estate.” The countess’s voice echoed off the glass walls. “This is Mrs. Finch, and she has traveled all the way from Brighton so that my guests can benefit from her expertise in the art of making centerpieces. I enjoy the endeavor myself, but you will quickly learn why she is considered something of an artist.”
Charley hadn’t known what to expect for entertainment at such a house party as this, but this most certainly was not it.
“Hello. And thank you for your polite attention this afternoon. It is my hope that all of you will be able to improve on the décor of your various manors and houses after we’re done here today.” Mrs. Finch, a plump lady whose riotous gray hair was barely contained in the knot atop her head, wore a canvas smock over a loose-fitting gown. The numerous rings on her fingers sparkled as she gestured with her hands toward a walkway behind her. “Come this way and you’ll see that Lady Westerley’s gardeners have kindly provided enough blossoms for all of you to use.”
Charley followed dutifully but then gasped again when she turned the corner.
When Lady Bethany had mentioned they’d be designing flower arrangements today, Charley had envisioned working with cuttings of silk and dried plants, or a handful of plain-looking blossoms. But that was not at all the case. Blossoms of all colors, along with lush greenery, had been cut and placed in buckets. Part of her wanted to scoff at the waste of this resource, but she couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty merely for the purpose of being… beautiful.
“My father has an orangery, but it’s nothing like this one,” a blonde young woman standing beside her said reverently.
Charley nodded, still caught up in the wonder of it and tried to remember the lady’s name.
Lady Bethany leaned forward and whispered, “My grandfather had it built shortly after marrying my grandmother. You’re welcome to explore any time you’d like, Felicity.”
Charley inhaled deeply. She’d always had a strong sense of smell, whether it was something she’d been born with or developed over time, and the scents floating around