The question wasn’t a fair one. Any other time, Charley could possibly have imagined some way to answer it without lying outright. “Yes.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
“Did you accept him?”
At these words, Charley met Bethany’s eyes—eyes that closely resembled those of the man they were discussing. She shook her head. “I’m going to return to America when the season is over. I have to.” Her voice caught. “It’s home.”
But was it really? Did home have to be the place where a person was born?
A tiny line appeared between Bethany’s eyes. “Do you have a beau in America? Is that why you must return?”
“I don’t,” she answered.
Bethany’s fingers fidgeted nervously at her side. “I’m not sure how Felicity will feel about this. But I can guarantee my mother will be none too pleased.”
Charley wanted to put Bethany’s worries to rest and tell her about the wager and that all of this was fake, but something held her back. Perhaps she needed to protect her father from appearing mercenary and uncaring. The wager had not been well done of him. It had been manipulative and unfair, and she was one hundred percent certain that he had cheated.
Did she keep from telling Bethany because she wanted to respect Jules’ privacy? He had accepted such a bet even though he’d been all but promised to another.
Or was it possible she refrained because she wanted this to be more than a charade? And she wasn’t opposed to him whisking her away?
Because as much as she’d enjoyed tasting the earl’s scotch, tasting the actual earl had been better.
Chapter 17
INVISIBLE STRINGS
After having her hair and gown repaired, Charley had wanted to avoid returning to the drawing room, but Bethany insisted she must make an appearance, if only for a short while. She’d informed her of this with raised, somewhat admonishing eyebrows.
Trusting that Bethany wouldn’t lead her astray in such matters, Charley had reluctantly agreed. At least she no longer had to deal with Mrs. Crabtree for the night.
And after half an hour of making conversation with a few of the elderly guests who had surprised her with a few thoughtful questions about America, she’d excused herself and wearily returned to her chamber.
Jules had not rejoined the party, and as she regarded her reflection while Daisy braided her hair for bed, she couldn’t keep herself from replaying that kiss—no, there had been multiple kisses—over and over again in her mind.
If she didn’t belong in England, then how was it that she’d felt so at home in his arms?
She’d been kissed before but never like that. His lips had tasted like scotch and when he’d dragged his whiskers along her more tender skin, the scratching had stoked a primitive longing in her core.
Even the memory sent a wanting through her.
No wonder his mother didn’t approve of her. Had she discovered that Charley had been in his company alone for several hours in the cellar? She touched her fingertips. Jules’ friends had successfully sent Mrs. Crabtree packing, but the woman would no doubt relay her suspicions to the countess.
Charley winced at the thought and when a knock sounded at the door, unease slid down her spine. Either Mrs. Crabtree was coming to check on her or Lady Westerley had arrived to evict her from the house party.
Charley’s eyes met Daisy’s in the mirror, slid to the redness on Charley’s neck and then over to the door. “Who do you think it is?” Daisy whispered as she quickly tied off the long braid she’d weaved.
Of course, Daisy would feel even less comfortable facing the countess.
“No way to know but to see.” Charley rose and Daisy scooted off into the dressing room.
Taking a deep breath, Charley tightened her dressing gown around her middle and padded barefoot to the door.
Neither Mrs. Crabtree nor the countess stood on the other side.
The corner of Jules’ mouth tilted upward in what managed to be something of a devilishly handsome half-smile. Most of his hair had escaped the cue it had been tied in earlier and she should not have experienced so much excitement at the mere sight of the man.
“I thought you might need this tomorrow.”
“Need what?” She forced her voice to function.
