Cocky Earl - Annabelle Anders Page 0,73
sudden sense of weightless freedom now that he’d completed the task. “I am free to marry Miss Jackson.”
“This ought to have been the perfect opportunity for us to remain holed up and commiserate with you as you drown your sorrows.” Chase punched Jules’ arm.
“We’ve managed to commiserate well enough already these past few days without having any sorrows to drown,” Peter pointed out, extracting his cello from the corner where he’d left it the night before.
“Felicity?” Mantis inquired, showing a hint of sensitivity.
Jules winced. “She wasn’t pleased.” But neither had she collapsed in tears.
“Well then, old man. I suppose you have some courting to do.” Stone punched Jules’ other arm and damn it if the blighter held anything back. Jules returned the favor and proceeded to lead them out to the carriages.
He had something to show Charley on the way to the Abbey and was hoping she’d finally accept his offer.
And he was going to take his time kissing her, that was damn sure. Where he was taking her, there would be no interruptions.
Charley arose early the next morning so she could take breakfast downstairs, but before she was ready to leave her chamber, Mrs. Crabtree herself arrived with a tray laden with all her favorite foods.
“So, Miss Jackson can prepare for the day’s adventure,” she informed Charley and Daisy before seating herself, uninvited, in a chair near the window. Charley had expected to be on the receiving end of a plethora of admonishments for the archery contest the day before and yet none was forthcoming.
“Did you really learn to do that from Indians?” Charley was digging into her eggs when the woman asked her question, looking almost impressed and a little in awe.
Biting back a grin, Charley shook her head and spread preserves on her toast. “I had one Indian friend, but I learned from one of my father’s employees.” Although she and Lyncoya had practiced together once. “And we shot mostly from atop a horse.” Astride, of course. Charley had seen ladies ride sidesaddle and would rather walk than put either herself or her horse at such a disadvantage.
“The contest itself was unseemly, which goes without saying, but Miss Somerset didn’t give you much of a choice.” Her companion’s newfound support astonished her even more than having breakfast served in her chamber. “She’ll want to look her best for the excursion,” Mrs. Crabtree said to Daisy, “but will need to wear comfortable shoes for the hike.”
“Have you been? To the abbey?” she asked Mrs. Crabtree.
“I have, Miss Jackson. When I was first hired on, five years ago. The steps were crumbling even then, but I imagine it will stand another five hundred years or so.”
As Mrs. Crabtree regaled her with the extensive arrangements Lady Westerley had undertaken, Charley realized that she wouldn’t be walking alone with Jules. Most of the guests planned to make the trip and take tea even if they had no intention of making the climb.
Her heart dropped, and she barely was able to keep herself from groaning out loud. Because if they couldn’t be alone, he was not going to be able to kiss her. Even more disappointing, she reminded herself, was the possibility that she and Jules wouldn’t be able to talk—just the two of them—about subjects that mattered and interested both of them.
Charley dropped her lashes and smoothed her skirts while Mrs. Crabtree jumped to the subject of the weather. There was no reason to be disappointed, really. The outing in and of itself promised to be a lovely one.
She’d heard mention of the Abbey earlier and knew it had been built in the late sixteenth century. Yet another aspect of England that had earned her reluctant approval. A structure that managed to remain standing for fifty years was a great accomplishment at home but only if it was maintained properly.
America was like a child, still growing, and would likely face a myriad of growing pains as it did so. Yes, it was home, and yes, she felt a great pride to be a part of something so bold and exciting as an entirely new country but…
She did not approve of the slavery. Or Mr. Jackson’s policies toward the Indians. And what bothered her even more was that she could not speak up in her disapproval. Even her own father didn’t want to hear her thoughts on the matter.
“Was I wrong to request that Lord Westerley accompany me?” She’d not thought she cared if she’d been right or wrong to do so