Cocky Earl - Annabelle Anders Page 0,2
contrasted vividly with the red and amber strands they’d been pinned to. Odds were definitely in his favor that the bloody Lepidoptera would be attracted to such a bright spectacle.
He turned his attention back to the moth.
It flitted, hovered around one of the white daisies, but just as it went to land, the girl, whose hair he would wager was the exact color of a ladybug, brushed it away again. And then, as though she sensed she was being watched, she turned and stared in his direction.
Even from a distance, he could easily see the color of her eyes. Brilliant green. What with her hair and her pale skin, they were rather striking, really. Jules resisted the urge to loosen his cravat, which suddenly seemed tighter than it had a moment before, and instead dipped his chin offering the barest form of acknowledgment.
She held his gaze for a moment before dropping her lashes and directing her attention back to his sisters.
“Right there, little fellow,” Stone encouraged the moth almost under his breath.
Jules exhaled, almost relieved that she’d turned away.
“Excellent!” Stone held up a clenched fist.
“Hell and damnation,” Jules cursed in disgust when it settled happily in the center of Tabetha’s blond coiffure.
Stone bent his elbow and lifted a fist in victory. “Double or nothing?”
“Of course.” Jules narrowed his eyes at the moth. And for the next twenty minutes, his debt piled up so much as to give Jules reason to wonder if all insects, or just this one in particular, had it out for him.
“How much is that now?” he groused when the damned thing thwarted him again, having been swatted at by Miss Ladybug.
Again.
“Who is that gel, anyhow?”
Blackheart lifted his quizzing glass to one eye. “That, my dear friend, is Miss Charlotte Jackson—the American Whiskey King’s only daughter and heir.”
“American.” Jules said the word with more disdain than he normally would have. Although he himself had added her father to the guest list, he wasn’t all that pleased with her or any of her countryfolk at that moment. Not so much because the upstarts had defeated England’s best in their blasted revolution but because her hair had just cost him hundreds of pounds. He’d seen a few ladybirds wear similarly colored wigs, but he was certain Miss Jackson’s was her own. He allowed himself one last glance and then dismissed his baser self for musing as to whether all of her hair was as red…
“Is Mr. Jackson here, then?” Chase lifted one brow in question.
Jules nodded. Indeed, he’d quite anticipated meeting the man. How could a person not be interested in someone who had built up a fortune distilling something so very necessary to the survival of all mankind? “Mr. Daniel Jackson.” Jules hadn’t realized the American even had a daughter.
“Rumor is he’s more than doubled his whiskey fortune at the card tables since arriving in England,” Stone added.
“Here’s a wager for you, Jules old man.” Stone eyed him with a cunning expression. “If you can walk away from the card table this evening with so much as a pence of Jackson’s fortune, we’ll call it even.”
Jules nearly laughed at the challenge, as did Chase, Mantis, Greys, Blackheart, and even Peter, who was mostly quiet.
“You must be joking,” Jules taunted.
Jules never lost at cards. He’d gone nearly a decade since he’d walked away from a night of gambling with empty pockets. And on that occasion, he’d been but a student at Eton.
“You’re on.” He held out one hand.
Charley studied the ceiling. It was nearly three stories high and decorated with elaborate paintings of vines and birds and divided into quarters by strips of intricately carved molding.
“How long have you been in England, Miss Jackson?” Lady Bethany, the elder of the Countess’s daughters, drew her attention back to the ladies who’d approached immediately after her father left her side.
“Two weeks.” Charley forced a smile, her gaze flitting to the back of her father’s head, where he conversed with a tight cluster of elderly gentlemen standing near the hearth. She hated that she couldn’t take part in such discussions. If she had been a son, she’d not be dismissed so easily.
“Have you been enjoying the sights in London then?”
“I’ve been a guest at Thornton Park since my arrival. My grandparents’ home lies on the outskirts of London and they’ve… Well, I haven’t had any opportunities to explore.” Had she been allowed to escape the mind-numbing lessons for even one day, then this entire journey might have been somewhat more palatable.
“You have