Cocky Earl - Annabelle Anders Page 0,37
he ever felt uncertain about anything.
“Are you angry with only your father right now, or would you like to include all of England in your disapproval?” he asked.
“So, you heard my faux pas all the way down where you were sitting, then?”
Watching her closely, a slow grin tipped up the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t need to. It spread like wildfire and may have become somewhat exaggerated by the time the stories reached me.” He raised one finger to his chin as though searching his memory. “Let me see. You all but accused my mother of living in a house that was far too large. Lady Crone speculated that you are secretly one of Rachel Jackson’s children from her previous marriage, an adopted daughter to the Whiskey King. But Lord Riker topped that by suggesting President Andrew Jackson sent you to England himself, to act as a spy before he sends a fleet of ships up the Thames.”
Charley didn’t even try to hide her snort of disbelief. Of course, he was joking. But in case he wasn’t…“I didn’t say anything to that affect.” She winced. “Although, I may have mentioned something about the wastefulness of one family living in such grand accommodations.”
The earl chuckled woefully.
“I did not mean to insult your mother. It’s just…”
“Yes?”
“I believe I’ve already insulted your family enough for one evening.”
Lord Westerley rocked on his heels.
“When I was not quite ten, I had a cat. Not sure whether she was one of Miss Perkin’s long line of descended felines. Nothing special about this particular cat, except for the fact that she sat with me whenever I wanted to be alone in the stables.”
The tightening in her chest loosened just slightly as she imagined Lord Westerley cuddling a cat as a young boy.
“Did this cat have a name?”
“Pussy.” He flashed her a cocky grin.
“I am sorry I asked,” she returned, whereas he lifted his shoulders and brows as though he had no idea why that would be the case.
“Anyhow, one day when I entered the stable,” he narrowed his eyes and swallowed, “I couldn’t find her. One of my father’s grooms informed me that she’d ventured into one of the stalls and been accidentally trampled.”
“That’s horrible.” She’d lost a dog a few years ago. It had felt arguably more traumatic than her mother’s death.
Six years ago. Some days it felt like yesterday, and other days it felt like a lifetime.
He grimaced. “The thing was, I was so angry at that horse. Hearing the commotion, my father rushed inside and discovered me yelling at the mare. At a horse! He took hold of me and dragged me outside.”
Charley was a little concerned as to where his story was going.
“He stood in front of me and I was bracing myself for the switch.” He studied his father’s painting, seemingly lost in the memory. “He said, ‘Julian Elias Fitzwilliam. That horse didn’t kill your cat intentionally. If you are that angry, then take me on instead and stop scaring the poor horse with your blubbering nonsense.’ I’ll never forget.” He pointed at his chin. ‘Take your best shot,’ he told me.”
Charley imagined he’d been so distraught that he’d not stopped to check his anger at the poor horse. She’d seen the man with his horse. He’d likely felt terrible afterward. “Did you hit your father?”
He exhaled. “I did not. There was something about him standing there, making himself vulnerable to me that immediately dispelled my pitiful need to lash out.”
“Are you attempting to do this with me?” She’d barely spent any time with him and yet she found herself reeling between wanting to box his ears and…
Not kiss him. She flicked her gaze up from his mouth.
Definitely not kiss him.
“I believe I am quite capable of absorbing any criticisms you are itching to dole out. Better to hurl them at me than my mother.” He grimaced and then grinned again. “At least I’m unlikely to send you back to London. I have my own motives where you are concerned.”
“It isn’t funny.” At least, it hadn’t been at the time. “Do you think she’d actually do that?”
“Send you back to your grandparents? The ones who wish to turn you into a proper English miss?”
She ought to scowl at him for reminding her that her mother’s parents awaited her with more correction, but he really was impossible! “Yes, those particular grandparents.”
“She would not. My mother may seem like something of a dragon, but she can also be rather understanding. Too understanding where