Cocky Earl - Annabelle Anders Page 0,60

then Lord Greystone. Apparently no longer anxious to remain at Charley’s side, she practically ran into the manor. Chaswick and Mantis grinned at one another and Greystone shook his head.

Charley met Bethany’s gaze and had to stifle an inappropriate urge to giggle. They had come to aid her—to aid her and Jules. And they all seemed to be taking considerable pleasure at having done so.

But where was Jules? She sent his sister a grateful smile and then glanced around. One moment he’d been making her feel drunk with his kisses and the next he had simply… disappeared.

She didn’t really understand how all of this had come about or who had planned it, but she was grateful.

Had Jules made arrangements earlier for all of this sneaking around in order to bamboozle her chaperone? It would have been a good deal of trouble for him for a mere kiss.

Or perhaps he had wanted more than a kiss?

Bethany crossed to her side and took hold of Charley’s free arm. “Shall we visit the retiring room, Charley?”

Wary to hear what Jules’ sister was going to have to say, Charley nodded, nonetheless, and Greystone released her. She hoped the new friendship that had barely had time to blossom with the younger girl wasn’t going to be ruined. She liked having a friend, even more, she liked Bethany.

But her gut told her it was a distinct possibility. Because Bethany wasn’t only Jules’ sister, she was practically a sister to Felicity, whom everyone expected Jules to marry. And Charley hated to imagine how Felicity must feel. She’d done nothing but go along with her parents’ expectations.

Neither Charley nor Bethany spoke as they stepped inside the manor and down the corridor to the room set aside for ladies to freshen their hair and gowns.

When they entered the retiring room, the attending maid’s brows nearly disappeared into her hairline. “Your hem needs repairing, Miss! And your hair!”

Charley glanced down, and sure enough, nearly a quarter of the hem of her gown had been trailing dismally behind her. Charley slid her gaze to the mirror and winced. Her lips glistened pink and plumper than usual and the skin along her jaw glowed red from Jules’ whiskers. Leaves clung to her hair, half of which had escaped the coiffure Daisy had carefully arranged a few hours earlier and her cheeks were flushed a guilty pink. Worst of all, the bodice of her gown had shifted downward, giving her a most unforgiving wanton look.

Even she would have guessed at what they’d been up to. She wasn’t so naïve to realize what the others must have been thinking.

“It must have happened when I fell into the hedge.” Charley made a halfhearted effort to explain her disheveled appearance away.

Bethany’s gaze met hers in the mirror. It wasn’t accusing, so much as… resigned. “I do believe, Miss Charlotte Jackson of Philadelphia, my brother has taken a liking to you.”

“No. No. No.” Charley didn’t want to concede that. Because if she did, then it would mean that she liked him back. And he was an earl. An earl who lived in England. An earl who really ought to be paying his addresses to another more deserving, more appropriate young lady.

But Bethany nodded.

“Step up here, Miss.” The maid had fetched a needle and thread. “And then we’ll do something about your hair.”

“It’s nothing. We are… friends.” Charley spoke the words aloud, cursing her fair complexion when the pink in her cheeks darkened further.

“Has he offered for you?”

The question wasn’t a fair one. Any other time, Charley could possibly have imagined some way to answer it without lying outright. “Yes.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

“Did you accept him?”

At these words, Charley met Bethany’s eyes—eyes that closely resembled those of the man they were discussing. She shook her head. “I’m going to return to America when the season is over. I have to.” Her voice caught. “It’s home.”

But was it really? Did home have to be the place where a person was born?

A tiny line appeared between Bethany’s eyes. “Do you have a beau in America? Is that why you must return?”

“I don’t,” she answered.

Bethany’s fingers fidgeted nervously at her side. “I’m not sure how Felicity will feel about this. But I can guarantee my mother will be none too pleased.”

Charley wanted to put Bethany’s worries to rest and tell her about the wager and that all of this was fake, but something held her back. Perhaps she needed to protect her father from appearing mercenary