Cocky Earl - Annabelle Anders Page 0,20
disappointment she felt upon realizing the earl wasn’t at all the man he’d portrayed himself to be.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be so very difficult to resist Lord Westerley’s charm after all.
Chapter 6
TELL THAT TO YOUR SISTERS
“Felicity is looking particularly lovely; would you not agree?” Bethany sidled up next to Jules as several of the guests milled out of the drawing room after tea. Most of them would retire to their chambers to freshen up or take short naps before the evening’s festivities, but he doubted Miss Jackson would do any such thing.
“What do you think of Miss Jackson?” he asked without any preamble.
“Charley?” His sister lowered her brows thoughtfully. “Very different. Not at all as I’d expected she would be.”
“Which was?”
“Silly. Grasping. Somewhat desperate.”
Her glance shifted toward the window, and he followed her gaze. Sure enough, the young American woman was walking outside. She was too industrious to do something so lazy as rest for a few hours during the day. For an instant, Jules imagined other activities that could be undertaken on a lazy afternoon in one’s bedchamber. With her fiery red hair splayed about his pillow.
An inappropriate shot of lust had him bringing himself up short. Where the devil had that thought come from? He straightened his shoulders.
“No, not the grasping sort,” he agreed.
“Initially, I felt sorry for her. She seemed terribly out of place. From what I was able to garner, her grandparents disapprove of her. They didn’t want her to attend the house party as she hadn’t completed the etiquette lessons they’d arranged. I think they are sorely mistaken if they think to turn her into an English Miss before the Season rolls around.”
“Lessons?”
“Ah, yes. Comportment, dancing, manners, and such. And they hate her hair.”
Jules nodded. Indeed, Miss Jackson’s hair wasn’t something that evoked milk toast opinions. Nor was the young woman herself. Hell, on and off all day, he had found himself contemplating their unusual conversation from earlier that morning. “Who are her grandparents?”
“Lord and Lady Thornton.”
Jules raised his brows at such irony. He’d met Lady Thornton on a few occasions—one of London’s highest sticklers. Even if Lord Thornton appreciated his American granddaughter as she was, it was likely the countess would squash it immediately.
He had less faith in Lady Thornton’s ability to affect much change with Miss Jackson.
No wonder she wasn’t all that fond of England. Since she’d arrived, her father had gambled her away in a game of chance, and her grandparents would erase her Americanisms, her very essence, if at all possible. “I imagine they were sorely disappointed.”
“That is my impression.” Bethany shot him a curious glance. “Why do you ask, anyway?”
Jules didn’t intend to tell either of his sisters about his wager. “I might do some business with her father. Important to be certain she won’t give rise to any... difficulties.” Both statements contained a seed of truth.
Jules rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Miss Jackson had been elusive over tea. Was she playing some sort of game with him or had she simply been distracted by the other guests? He’d made a few attempts to catch her gaze across the room, and she’d seemed to deliberately frustrate his efforts.
It was a disconcerting sensation. He was usually the one being watched.
“You said you initially felt sorry for her. But you no longer do?”
“Not really. She’s clever in the most unusual ways. And she doesn’t seem to care all that much about what people think about her. She gets this faraway look in her eyes as though she’s somewhere else completely. I must confess to wishing I could feel the same, at least occasionally.”
Jules smiled down at the eldest of his two sisters. Unlike Tabetha, Bethany was proper in all things and never gave him cause to worry. “There was no chance of that for any of us.”
In addition to the expectations of their parents, they must always comport themselves properly and with dignity. Virtues they never questioned and had drilled into them by nannies, their governesses, and tutors.
It wasn’t something they did, rather, it was who they were.
Miss Jackson might very well someday learn to behave in a manner acceptable to the Ton but it would not change who she was.
“I don’t imagine she enjoys those lessons,” Jules commented thoughtfully.
“She hates them.” Bethany laughed. “I like her. I hope she doesn’t have too much difficulty in London though. Although I doubt the dragons at Almacks will approve of her as she is now.”
Wandering through the halls a few minutes later, Jules couldn’t help but