He pictured her as a very young girl, her blazing hair and curious eyes would never allow her to be hidden in a shadow.
Jules inhaled. “May I call you Charlotte?”
“Or Charley, if you prefer.”
He couldn’t help grinning at that.
“Which would you prefer that I call you?”
She tilted her head just so and blinked. “Charley.” And then, “What should I call you?”
“Westerley, Fitzwilliam, Julian. Or Jules, if you prefer.” Now it was she who grinned.
“That’s quite a selection to choose from… but I think I like Jules.”
“Then I shall call you Charley.”
“Should we only use our given names in private, then? Are you going to tell anyone that you are courting me? It’s perfectly fine with me if you don’t wish to. That way, when all of this is over, you can go back to being engaged to Lady Felicity without too much—"
“Charley.” He cut her off. “To answer your questions in order. Yes, we should only use given names in private. Feel free to call me Westerley otherwise. Yes, I will tell people that I am courting you… in due time. It is what I wish. And when all of this is over, you and I shall be engaged and on our way to the altar, making it unnecessary for you to concern yourself that I will ever become engaged to Lady Felicity.” As Jules spoke, he itched to move around the table and jump far ahead in his courtship of her.
Would she bolt again if he tried to kiss her?
He tamped down the thought as she tilted her head back and released a long breath.
“You really are incorrigible do you know that?”
“So, I’ve been told.” God, she was magnificent.
“Very well. I’ll pretend that you are courting me for real and you can pretend that you’re not pretending to court me. Meanwhile, I would be pleased to have you for a friend.”
Jules contemplated her gloved hand, extended across the table as though for him to shake it.
Taking his time, he extended his own. She was not a petite lady, that was true, but she was a good deal smaller than him, and her hand practically disappeared in his.
With a firm jerk, she squeezed and gave a shake before withdrawing and settling it back in her lap.
“And I am pleased to have you as a friend as well, Charley.” But he was coming to think she might be equally pleasing in his bed.
“Thank you. Jules.” She wriggled her shoulders and then eyeballed her plate. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish breaking my fast.” The spunky little chit was dismissing him, by God.
She ought not to have come down to breakfast unaccompanied, and Jules didn’t wish to leave her alone. It was his home, and he was mostly certain she would be safe here, but one could never be completely sure. Over the next few days, he’d address some of her behaviors with her. It would be tricky, though. He didn’t want her to think he was yet another person who wished to change her and yet, as his countess, it would be important for her to understand the traditions he lived by.
Which, really, if he took the right approach, oughtn’t be difficult. He would take her on a tour of his land, explain some of the more interesting tidbits in his family history. And around London…
He was coming to think there were several things he wanted to show her, and to do with her…to her. But changing her most certainly wasn’t one of them.
“As your most ardent suitor, I am happy to wait and then escort you back to your chamber.” He leaned back in his chair again and settled in. Would she really eat all of what she’d piled on her plate?
She shoveled in a bite and after swallowing, shifted her gaze up again. “It’s not necessary to pretend while we’re alone, Jules.” His sisters, he guessed, would not appreciate him watching them eat. Miss Jackson—Charley—that was, didn’t seem at all embarrassed to eat in front of him.
Jules narrowed his eyes. “You may pretend all you wish, but you’ll find yourself pretending you aren’t marrying me as you walk down the aisle of St. George’s.”
It was a little unnerving that her response to his statement was to burst into laughter.
Twenty minutes later, after delivering Charley safely to her chamber, Jules stepped into the room that never failed to provide the masculine residents of the house with a respite from feminine company.
“You didn’t show up at the stables.” Mantis glanced up from the billiard table before shoving the cue through his fingers sending the colorful wooden balls rolling in all directions on the table. “Brightley caught us just as we were heading out. Said he was looking for you.”
