And that thought had her feeling closer to him than she’d expected.
“I was just telling the earl and the Spencers here of my plans to tour a few of the Scottish distilleries.” Her father rocked back and forth on his feet as he stared over her shoulder at what she guessed was nothing.
“Did you have any particular recommendations?” Charley asked the Englishmen in general, unable to hide her enthusiasm. Touring the distilleries had been the primary reason she’d looked forward to this journey from the moment Father announced it. The Scottish had been distilling whisky for centuries, and the idea of seeing the equipment they used, of hearing the history—of tasting the variations—sent her heart racing. Immersing herself in that world had the potential to make up for her grandparents’ disappointment upon her arrival and all of the horrid lessons that had followed. “It doesn’t really matter if we arrive back in London before the Season begins, does it?”
“Your grandparents are expecting you to be there, Charley,” her father said. “I gave them my word.”
“Then perhaps we ought to leave the party early.” She glanced at Lord Westerley, who looked slightly pained. “No offence, My Lord.”
Her father frowned down at the carpet. “I received a letter from Mr. McDaniel, and he’s invited me to stay at his estate while I make the rounds. I am leaving tomorrow.”
If she wasn’t wearing a gown and silk slippers, she might have jumped up and down. “I should go back upstairs and inform Daisy then. She’ll need to repack my belongings. Are we leaving early in the morning then?”
“That won’t be necessary. I spoke with Lady Westerley earlier this afternoon, and she said that you and Daisy are more than welcome to remain for the duration.”
“But I—”
“It’s best that I don’t have a woman along. You know how some of these fellows can be.”
“But—”Her throat thickened, and she had to blink away the sudden tears that threatened.
Her father met her gaze and hardened his in warning. At the same time, her heart dropped into the soles of her shoes and any enjoyment she’d anticipated that evening evaporated.
She’d discussed her eagerness for the tour up north with him on numerous occasions. She’d mapped it out, for heaven’s sake. Why would he change his mind without even talking with her about it?
But she knew why. If he’d discussed it with her, she would have argued back. He would have had a less easy time leaving her behind.
The realization that he must have made this decision long ago nearly sent her reeling.
Just as though he hadn’t practically ruined her life, her father turned and fell into an easy conversation with Stone Spencer. Charley failed to hear the words for once and contemplated the man who’d made up her entire world for most of her life. Why was he doing this? Her life’s ambition was to work alongside him. Whereas other young women her age were already married, or fantasized of the matrimonial state, Charley fell asleep scheming about something far more romantic—in her eyes, anyhow. She dreamed of whiskey. And bottling and even marketing. She longed to create a whiskey that wasn’t only meant to be guzzled, but a whiskey one could … savor.
Her father knew this about her. She blinked away a hot stinging in her eyes and as her vision cleared, caught Lord Westerley watching her.
Was this because of that bet? Was he going to be the reason she missed out on the only interesting thing this blasted country had to offer? She narrowed her eyes at him, and his brows rose in response.
The earl didn’t appear to gloat; in fact, he seemed rather sympathetic, but she barely knew him. She ought not to allow the combination of good looks and charm he possessed to overrule her good sense.
A handful of male guests strolled through the wide-open doors, and she was forced to school her features as much as possible. Her father had informed her of his decision while in the presence of others for a specific reason. She couldn’t argue with him without embarrassing them both.
With a vague nod in the direction of Lord Chaswick and Lord Manningham-Tissingwhatever, she turned away to take a moment to herself and replayed a few of the conversations she’d had with her father regarding their trip in her memory.
“Your grandparents will be so happy to finally have their granddaughter with them.”
“It’s what your mother would have wanted.”
“You will have to learn the ways of the English.”
She frowned. He’d never actuallyagreedto taking her to Scotland with him; she’d merely assumed that they would both go together. And why shouldn’t she have? She’d spent her every waking hour at the distillery or in the office, working for him, but also with him.
She’d also assumed that she would step into his shoes at some point.
She stared out the window and a pang of fear struck her. Surely, he didn’t intend to abandon her in England?
“You didn’t know he wasn’t taking you on the tour?”
Lord Westerley had crept up behind her. Even if she hadn’t been able to make out his features in the reflection off the glass, she would have known it was him. His scent, yes, but something else as well.
She hated that the sympathy in his voice made her eyes burn again.
