Cocky Earl - Annabelle Anders Page 0,19
little to see Lord Westerley among them. The others seemed to be the same lordly specimens who had been hiding behind the pianoforte and in the window seat yesterday afternoon.
“Surely, we are the luckiest fellows in all of England this afternoon.” A man with perfect features and long lashes on his pale blue eyes, who was not quite as tall as the earl, bowed in their direction. After sending a wink in Tabetha’s direction, he eyed Charley. “I have not had the pleasure of making your acquaintance yet, ma’am. Lady Bethany, won’t you be so kind as to present me to this vision of loveliness?”
Charley pinched her lips together, because even on her best day, she’d never consider herself any such thing.
Bethany scowled in his direction but nonetheless stepped forward dutifully. “Miss Jackson, may I present to you Baron Chaswick.” Up close, Charley thought this man was possibly the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
Bethany presented the other four gentlemen, all of whom were titled except one. “And His Grace, the Duke of Blackheart.” When she turned to the last of them, Charley held herself rigid as the darkest, most menacing man bowed over her hand. A duke! She would have been quite happy to live all of her life without meeting someone so haughty as this person.
“Shall we return to the manor then?” Mr. Spencer offered his arm to Lady Tabetha, who turned away in favor of the marquess. Lady Felicity—Felicity—paired up with Lord Westerley and Lady Bethany with Baron Chaswick.
“If it is true that your father is the American Whiskey King, then does that make you a princess?” Mr. Spencer offered his arm, and Charley easily took it. If anything, his lack of title made him the most attractive of the bunch.
“That’s ridiculous,” she responded as they strode around to the front entrance. “Are you fond of whiskey, Mr. Spencer?”
“Fond is a rather bland way to describe the emotions I have for it.” He laughed. As did those of the other gentlemen in earshot.
“Passion would be more apt.” Tabetha giggled. “Why, on one particular summer morning, Bethany and I rose early to go riding and found all of these bounders passed out on the front lawn. In their clothes. I swear we could smell the liquor on their breath all the way from the stables.”
“I don’t remember any such thing,” Lord Chaswick protested, looking back, although not very vehemently.
“Well, you wouldn’t.” Bethany shook her head.
“It must have been Lord Lucas,” Chaswick persisted.
“You only say that because he is away at war and is not here to defend himself,” Bethany answered without missing a beat.
“Any word on when your brother’s regiment returns?” The Marquess fellow spoke up, garnering the duke’s attention.
“He was back for a few weeks, before the holidays. His men suffered an ambush. Arthur Gilcrest was one of the casualties.”
The members of the group all made the appropriate sympathetic comments, but as she had no idea whom they were talking about, Charley only half-listened.
The group fell silent, seeming to observe a few steps of somber moments until Bethany changed the subject. She gestured meaningfully toward the couple that had managed to gain a lead on the rest. “What do you say, Chase, will my brother make his offer official this spring?”
“Mum’s the word from me. Would you be interested in making a wager, Lady Bethany?”
Charley sent the baron a sharp glance. Were they discussing Lord Westerley offering for Lady Felicity?
“Ladies do not wager.” Bethany dropped her gaze to the ground, looking almost sad. But in the very next instant, Charley thought she must have imagined the moment when the girl lifted her chin and smiled brightly. “Will you gentlemen be joining us for tea?”
“Westerley insists it’s our duty. If you’ve any of that whiskey on you this afternoon, Miss Jackson, I’d be most appreciative for a drop or two in my cup of tea later on. We gentlemen will require all the fortitude we can muster.”
“He’s already taken his sweet time about it,” Tabetha added. And then she met Charley’s eyes in a friendly manner. “He and Felicity are practically betrothed. We’re hopeful that he’ll make it official this year.”
But Charley hardly paid attention, her gaze pinned to the back of the finely dressed gentleman walking ahead who was also their host. If Lady Felicity was expecting an offer, how was it honorable for him to court Charley? Was this all just a game to him? Was everything a game to these people?
She dismissed the pinch of