Cocky Earl - Annabelle Anders Page 0,32
gaze and hardened his in warning. At the same time, her heart dropped into the soles of her shoes and any enjoyment she’d anticipated that evening evaporated.
She’d discussed her eagerness for the tour up north with him on numerous occasions. She’d mapped it out, for heaven’s sake. Why would he change his mind without even talking with her about it?
But she knew why. If he’d discussed it with her, she would have argued back. He would have had a less easy time leaving her behind.
The realization that he must have made this decision long ago nearly sent her reeling.
Just as though he hadn’t practically ruined her life, her father turned and fell into an easy conversation with Stone Spencer. Charley failed to hear the words for once and contemplated the man who’d made up her entire world for most of her life. Why was he doing this? Her life’s ambition was to work alongside him. Whereas other young women her age were already married, or fantasized of the matrimonial state, Charley fell asleep scheming about something far more romantic—in her eyes, anyhow. She dreamed of whiskey. And bottling and even marketing. She longed to create a whiskey that wasn’t only meant to be guzzled, but a whiskey one could … savor.
Her father knew this about her. She blinked away a hot stinging in her eyes and as her vision cleared, caught Lord Westerley watching her.
Was this because of that bet? Was he going to be the reason she missed out on the only interesting thing this blasted country had to offer? She narrowed her eyes at him, and his brows rose in response.
The earl didn’t appear to gloat; in fact, he seemed rather sympathetic, but she barely knew him. She ought not to allow the combination of good looks and charm he possessed to overrule her good sense.
A handful of male guests strolled through the wide-open doors, and she was forced to school her features as much as possible. Her father had informed her of his decision while in the presence of others for a specific reason. She couldn’t argue with him without embarrassing them both.
With a vague nod in the direction of Lord Chaswick and Lord Manningham-Tissingwhatever, she turned away to take a moment to herself and replayed a few of the conversations she’d had with her father regarding their trip in her memory.
“Your grandparents will be so happy to finally have their granddaughter with them.”
“It’s what your mother would have wanted.”
“You will have to learn the ways of the English.”
She frowned. He’d never actually agreed to taking her to Scotland with him; she’d merely assumed that they would both go together. And why shouldn’t she have? She’d spent her every waking hour at the distillery or in the office, working for him, but also with him.
She’d also assumed that she would step into his shoes at some point.
She stared out the window and a pang of fear struck her. Surely, he didn’t intend to abandon her in England?
“You didn’t know he wasn’t taking you on the tour?”
Lord Westerley had crept up behind her. Even if she hadn’t been able to make out his features in the reflection off the glass, she would have known it was him. His scent, yes, but something else as well.
She hated that the sympathy in his voice made her eyes burn again.
“I did not.” The admission was lowering.
“Your father is correct in that many of the owners would not speak so freely with him if you were there.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Charley straightened her shoulders with a jerk.
“It’s simply the truth.” He touched her elbow. “Would you care to step onto the terrace for a moment?”
“Did you set him up to do this?” She turned around to face him, unwilling to go anywhere at the moment.
He had been standing directly behind her, however, and in order to meet his gaze, she had to tilt her head back. She also hadn’t expected to find herself so close to him.
She stepped backward.
“Why would I do that?” An enigmatic smile danced on his lips.
“To keep me here so that you can make good on that stupid wager.”
At her words, his eyes hardened slightly. “I thought we were friends.”
“As did I.”
He scowled down at her and for the first time, she noticed little flecks of silver amongst the myriad of blues in his eyes.
“I would not stoop to come between you and your whiskey.” His voice sounded harder than it had before. “Have