Cocky Earl - Annabelle Anders Page 0,89

He at least had the good judgment not to appear overly satisfied or gleeful. “My daughter will not be disappointed.”

Cracking sounds echoed in the room, and his mother cleared her throat uncomfortably.

He knew what this meant. He jerked his head and bloody well didn’t give a damn that the two other occupants in the room winced at the sound.

He’d promised himself to Charley. He’d given her his word. He’d taken her innocence.

But his father had promised Jules to Felicity. Without his knowledge. Perhaps if Jules hadn’t been passed out in a brothel, his father would have seen fit to inform him of the fact.

“Why that night?” Jules met Lord Brightley’s stare. “What did he say to you?” Had his father felt a sense of foreboding for himself?

Lord Brightly turned away. “He said you had been living debaucherously and it was time you settled down. He was disappointed in you. It was a means to rein you in so you would take your responsibilities seriously.”

“Why didn’t you say something to me before now?” Damn it all to hell. This was something he ought to have been informed of immediately.

Brightly turned and gave him a sad smile. “You had just lost your father. And… after he passed, you changed. You were settling down and taking care of your estates. A few gentlemen remarked upon the fact that you were no longer attending the less-reputable establishments. Every indication was that you planned to offer for Felicity this spring. I saw no need.”

“And you wanted to marry Felicity, Westerley.” His mother interjected. “Until that American girl—"

“If I’d wanted to marry her, I would have done so by now.” Speaking the words aloud, it struck him that he’d known this for some time now. If he’d wanted to marry Felicity, he never would have accepted Jackson’s bet.

But if he’d known his father had drawn up an official agreement, he wouldn’t have had a choice.

And now?

Bile threatened to rise in his throat.

The older man scowled. “Felicity informed me of your intentions toward Miss Jackson, but I’ve explained to her that you were mistaken—that your decision was nothing more than a momentary lapse of judgment. Your father wanted this.” He pointed at the contract. “He wanted you to marry a lady of quality, a lady who would uphold the dignity of your family name, represent the title as it should be.”

“Marrying Miss Jackson is the opposite of what your father would have wanted.” His mother spoke up from where she stood, arms folded in front of her.

Had everything happened for no reason? He couldn’t believe that. He…

He loved Charley. Now he couldn’t have her.

Was this to be his punishment for failing to show up at the duel?

The bold slash of his father’s signature glared up at him like a stern reprimand. “I’ll go over this tonight.” It was the only thing he could think to say, suddenly caught between immense pain and numb disbelief.

Brightly nodded. “It’s perfectly legal. Both of our solicitors went over it at the time.”

Jules’ mother nodded graciously toward Felicity’s father. “Thank you, Milton. I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding.”

Brightly pursed his lips as though he had more to say but then excused himself with a shallow bow and exited the study. Tension weighed heavily in the wake of his departure.

His mother crossed the room and cautiously lowered herself into the seat in front of Jules. He didn’t look up at her. He sat as though in a trance, staring at his father’s signature.

“We can pay her father off,” his mother attempted to cajole him. “She is a nice enough girl, but this is not her world.”

The words made sense—to the man Jules had been a few years ago—slightly, even, to the man he’d been little over a week ago.

But not to the man he was today. Not to the man who no longer possessed his own heart.

“It is,” he asserted. Because it was her world. And she was his. He couldn’t marry Felicity. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t walk away from the promises he’d made to Charley. Even setting aside the wager he’d lost to her father, he could never dishonor a woman that way.

He’d promised Charley that he’d never hurt her. He’d rather cut off his own arm than cause her a single moment of pain.

“Your father made this promise years ago. He did it for you. And then he gave his life for you,” his mother reminded him softly.

Jules scrubbed his hand down his face. “Leave me.” He did