Cocky Earl - Annabelle Anders Page 0,7

hadn’t taken the time to speak with her.

If she accepted him, which, of course, she would, those redheaded urchins would become a distinct possibility.

Ice flooded his veins. Oh, hell, his mother was going to be—

“I’m afraid it will not be so very simple as that,” Mr. Jackson interrupted the jolting direction of Jules’ imagination.

Why wouldn’t it be? Jules did his best to tamp down his frustration. Damn it all to hell, he’d done this to himself.

“My daughter,” Jackson continued. “will indubitably reject your proposal initially.”

Relief flooded through Jules. “Would you prefer something else then? One of my unentailed estates?” Although Jules would hate to part with any of them, it would cause far less upheaval for himself. Dash it all, and for a handful of others as well.

“Oh, no. I expect to collect. If you remember correctly, you did not wager an offer for her, you wagered that you would convince her to marry you.”

The card Jules had been tapping bent and then folded onto itself. “You do not seriously expect me to—”

“Win her hand.” Jackson’s eyes, which were far from lifeless now, locked with Jules’ without wavering.

“And if I fail?”

“Let’s give you until the end of the house party, shall we? If my daughter refuses to capitulate by then, I will return to America and she will be able to boast that while in London, she was eagerly courted by an earl.”

If Jules was not a man of honor, he could avoid the leg shackle by courting her in a lackluster fashion. But that would mean reneging on a bet. That was something he’d never do. Honor was everything.

Even if the girl was an absolute shrew, he was going to put his best foot forward. Despite the unsettling color of her hair and eyes, she was not unattractive. It was more than likely that she was simply unrefined and lacked dignity. Otherwise, Jackson wouldn’t feel compelled to resort to winning a husband for her in a card game.

A sick feeling rolled through Jules. What the hell had he done?

Because, of course, she would accept him.

What woman wouldn’t?

Chapter 3

THE DEVIL’S TONIC

“Was it as horrible as you expected?” Charley’s maid, Daisy, asked as she began unlacing the stays at her back. Charley’s grandmother had insisted that if Charley were to attend a house party, she must have a maid who could also serve as a chaperone or companion if necessary. Daisy had barely arrived from the agency before Charley’s father collected them to journey to Westerley Crossings.

It was likely that if her grandmother had had a chance to vet Daisy at all, she would not have approved.

The young woman had worked in Cheapside for a seamstress since she’d been ten, she’d explained to Charley, when her aunt and uncle had sent her packing. As the carriage hired by Charley’s father rolled slowly toward Westerley Crossing, Daisy’s story unfolded. She’d explained how she’d worked doing all manner of chores for a small stipend plus room and board, but that she’d watched and learned the trade, knowing she would eventually move onto something better.

In a theatrical whisper, she’d confessed that she’d exaggerated her experience just enough that the agency would recommend her for a lady’s maid position. Rather than appalled when the young woman confessed to the partial deception, Charley had instead been somewhat impressed with her ingenuity. Her maid possessed a decidedly American outlook on life.

Charley approved of Daisy wholeheartedly.

Charley hadn’t initially thought she would need a person to attend to her personal needs, but with all the clothing and accessories her grandmother insisted she bring to the house party, she conceded that perhaps she did.

And furthermore, now that she was caught up in the thick of all these British trappings, Charley was grateful for the companionship of someone who actually seemed to approve of her.

Even though Charley had been acquainted with Daisy for less than a week, she already seemed less like a servant and more of a friend. The girl was kind, unassuming, familiar, and close to her in age.

Charley closed her eyes. “It was not quite as horrible”—she answered and then took in a deep breath when the garment loosened—“but I didn’t enjoy it.”

Daisy laughed heartily, causing one of her unruly chestnut curls to escape her mob cap, “Surely not all the young ladies in attendance are empty-headed? Or perhaps you’ve found a handsome gent to snare?”

Charley snorted.

Wouldn’t that just be a hoot? That would make not only her grandparents happy but her aunt back in Philadelphia as well.

She