Cocky Earl - Annabelle Anders Page 0,92

given him her innocence and, in doing so, experienced utter bliss.

When someone knocked at the door, she assumed it would be her morning tea. Charley shouldn’t have been surprised, however, when Mrs. Crabtree entered behind the maid—looking as dour and stern as she had on the first day she’d trailed around behind Charley.

“Good morning.”

Although wary, Charley would do her best to get through this day with her dignity intact—what little dignity she’d ever laid claim to. It hadn’t been much of a priority until she’d arrived in England. All she’d cared about was her whiskey. Whiskey didn’t mind if she spent an afternoon alone with a handsome gentleman, nor did it mind if she was raised on English soil or in America.

“Good morning, Miss Jackson.” Mrs. Crabtree stood with her hands behind her back and her back perfectly straight. “Her ladyship has asked that I have a word with you this morning.”

Nothing good was going to come from such a statement.

“Can it not wait until after I’ve dressed?” She had barely woken up and her eyes were yet sticky from lack of sleep. She rolled her shoulders however, seeing determination in the woman’s satisfied mien.

“She asked that we speak first thing. As it is already half past eight, any later would not be that, now would it? It’s my understanding you are not a person who sleeps the day away.”

“Not usually,” Charley conceded.

Daisy lifted the lid off the dishes on the tray to reveal a variety of the offerings usually displayed on the sideboard in the morning room. Charley’s chest tightened as she began to suspect that this wasn’t so much a courtesy on the part of her hostess but rather something less… hospitable.

“Lady Westerley believes you will be more comfortable if you keep to yourself until your father returns to Westerley Crossings. In light of your behavior yesterday, that is. For your own sake, of course. She says it ought to only be a few more days and that all you’ll really miss will be the ball. And we both know that dancing isn’t something you’re particularly fond of.” Ah, yes, Mrs. Crabtree had been sitting in the corner for the one lesson that Jules had managed to arrange —scowling and frowning that Charley had had the temerity to have the lord of the manor as her partner.

Any other day and she wouldn’t have minded the banishment, as it only would have allowed her to spend time alone reading or thinking up new ideas for how to improve her recipes. But today? When she desperately needed to see Jules, to learn the truth about the paperwork Felicity’s father had shown him? She despised the idea of being forced to stay in her chamber.

“She thinks to protect me from her other guests?” Charley couldn’t help but clarify. “Or protect her guests from me?” Surely, the countess didn’t expect her to remain locked inside her chamber until her father arrived back from Scotland? Charley hugged her elbows, holding her arms protectively and stifled an urge to panic.

“You brought this on yourself.” The woman stood firm. “It will be best for you to remain out of sight.” Mrs. Crabtree strolled across the room to take a seat by the window for all the world as though she would sit there all day if necessary. “Don’t mind me. You should eat before the food grows cold.”

Charley ignored the food and instead allowed Daisy to assist her into the best day dress she owned. It was a bright emerald made of soft muslin and her grandmother had ordered it from a modiste they’d visited the first day after she’d arrived.

And she was grateful for the added confidence it gave her. Because at some point, she was determined to escape her jailer and find Jules.

She needed to know exactly what had happened yesterday, and depending on so many other uncertainties, she needed to make sure that he didn’t do anything that might ruin the plan brewing in her mind.

She wanted him, but only if he truly wanted her—only if he loved her. And if that was the case, she wanted him to come to her with no regrets.

But she needed to talk to him first.

Alone.

His muscles ached from his efforts getting the horses to pull them safely back to the manor, and his head pounded from the conversation he’d had with his mother and Brightly, but he never made it to his chamber. Even if he had, he doubted he would have slept.

Instead, he spent