Charley glanced down and frowned. She’d never thought her melons required enhancing before but had to concede the affect was rather… ripening.
“I won’t make it through the first course.” By now she had realized these dinners were rather gluttonous affairs but tonight, Daisy’s knot would ensure Charley paced herself.
“If your father intends to allow you to someday take over his business, why would he place such a bet with the earl?” Daisy dropped the gown over her head as she asked the question that had bothered Charley ever since Lord Westerley had told her about it.
Of course, Daisy knew everything.
“Perhaps it’s some sort of a test for me.” She touched her stomach and inhaled. Charley didn’t understand her father’s motivations and felt reluctant to dwell on that fact. “Which I will pass. Because I’m not going to marry him.”
And as she’d not come across him even once today, Charley thought resisting him might not be so difficult after all.
“Both you and your father baffle me.” Daisy pushed the last pin into Charley’s coiffure.
Charley turned her head from side to side. “Done up like this, the red doesn’t seem nearly as gaudy.” Her hair looked pretty for a change.
“I’m not trying to hide it, mind you. It’s the most gorgeous color I’ve ever seen.”
“You have to say that, I suppose, as my maid.”
Daisy met her gaze in the mirror. “Have I lied to you yet?”
Considering all this young woman had confided over the course of their short acquaintance, Charley could only shake her head.
“At least you could pretend for me that you’re going to become a countess. That would be quite the promotion for me.”
“You’re hopeless.” But Charley was laughing. By far, Daisy’s greatest talent of all was her ability to turn the most mundane of tasks into a good time. Perhaps Daisy would want to return to America with her…
“Hopeful, Miss Jackson. Always Hopeful.” She walked Charley across the room and practically pushed her out the door. “Now go be charming.”
Feeling prettier than usual and wearing delicate slippers her grandmother had sent along, Charley padded quietly through the corridors so as not to be late for the evening’s affairs.
She needn’t have hurried. Because when she stepped into the drawing room, it was empty except for Lord Westerley, her father, and the two Messrs. Spencer. A glance at the clock assured her that this was the time listed on the schedule in her chamber.
“Miss Jackson.” Lord Westerley approached the doorway. “You are a vision this evening.”
She knew he was playing his part, and yet, unwilling to dismiss the compliment completely, Charley smoothed her hands along the front of her gown. It had particularly large sleeves but was a lovely indigo color and swished in a pleasing manner when she walked. When she was younger, her mother had told her that as a red-haired girl with green eyes, she would look prettiest in greens. But blue had always been her favorite color.
“Thank you?” Her response came out uncertainly.
“My apologies for failing to entertain you earlier today.” He took hold of one of her hands. “Tenant business demanded my attention.”
Knowing he hadn’t simply been avoiding her caused her spirits to lift. That was, if he was telling the truth. His eyes appeared a vibrant blue this evening, though, and staring into them, she found no reason to doubt him.
“I didn’t expect to see you down here so soon.” Charley straightened her back as her father joined them. Over the past few days, it almost seemed he’d been avoiding her. Likely, he was avoiding her questions about his little wager. She had little hopes of cornering him anytime soon. He was wily like that.
“I hate being late.” Her father knew this already. She’d gotten it from him.
He scowled. “Where’s that Daisy girl your grandmother sent along to chaperone you?”
Everything had been lovely, and her host and hostesses had been kind, but the feeling of not belonging in this world plagued her at odd moments and this was one of them. If her father was more demonstrative, she might even have reached up to place a kiss on his weathered cheek.
“Daisy is alady’s maid,” she informed her father, a trifle embarrassed. Although Charley had asked Daisy to act as her companion. Daisy had explained that there were above-stairs servants and below-stairs servants, and she most definitely fell into the latter category.
Stone Spencer laughed. “You’ll have to learn that in England, most particularly among nobs, time is merely relative. Plan your arrivals keeping in mind that everything actually takes place approximately sixty minutes later than the designated time.”
Her father’s expression revealed all too easily what he thought of that. At home, when her father told her to meet him at six in the morning, he in truth meant ten minutes ‘til. When her gaze shifted to Lord Westerley’s, she sensed, not for the first time that he’d read her mind.
“Mustn’t appear too eager, Miss Jackson.” Not only did he read her mind, but he seemed to be laughing at her. No, she surmised, he was laughingwithher. If he was laughing at anything, she’d wager it was the rules his people lived their lives by.
