“I did at that, My Lord. It’s what she would have wanted me to do.” The thought of Charley meeting with some sort of accident arose unbidden in his mind. The painful sensation it invoked had him hastily pushing it away.
Jules’ mother had hired Mr. Robbins to perform valet duties for Jules shortly after Jules’ father’s death. She’d declared most adamantly that Jules needed to look the part if he was going to take over his father’s responsibilities. He needed to act the part, as well. Jules had been in no position to argue. He’d been the cause of her husband’s demise, after all.
Guilt was a powerful motivator, and yet he didn’t want to lose Charley in recompense for the mistakes of his past.
When his mother stepped into his office, the familiar punch of shame forced him to recognize that the power his guilt held over him was as strong as ever.
“You needed to speak with me, darling?” She was impeccably dressed even though most of their guests were likely only just now taking tea or chocolate in their beds. She lowered herself into the leather chair placed in front of him and then met his gaze expectantly. “Have you spoken with Lord Brightley yet, then? Or better yet, with Felicity?”
“I won’t be meeting with Lord Brightly, Mother, at least not in the way you would have me.” It was best to tell her the truth quickly. His mother would see right through any excuses or preamble he’d attempt. Her desire for candor was actually something he rather appreciated about her. “I’m not going to marry Felicity.”
“You aren’t ready yet?”
“I’m not going to marry Felicity ever. I’m courting Miss Jackson.” He’d thought he might feel some regret at his decision, knowing his bachelorhood would soon be coming to an end. But as he said the words, he felt a sudden lifting of an invisible weight on his shoulders and a warmth flowing through his veins. He had to admit to himself that, oddly enough, he was looking forward to marrying Charley.
Amongst other things.
His mother chuckled. “Don’t scare me like that.” She drew back her shoulders. “In fact, I rather think it would be best if I sent Miss Jackson back to her grandparents rather than wait for Mr. Jackson to return. She isn’t… fitting in with the other guests. Mrs. Crabtree informed me that she hid from her in the orangery last night. We can’t have an unmarried woman cavorting about the premises with heaven knows who, now can we? I have Tabetha’s reputation to protect.”
“And Bethany’s,” he said through clenched teeth. Although that wasn’t at all the issue here.
“Of course.” She tilted her head, looking more serene than he knew she really was, daring him to contradict her.
“And no doubt the doggedly attentive Mrs. Crabtree told you that Miss Jackson was with me?” he asked, cracking several of his knuckles simultaneously. “I am not joking. Please don’t make this difficult. And do call off your watchdog. I won’t have my future betrothed made to feel uncomfortable in our home.”
His mother pursed her lips. Of course, she’d known. She’d likely noted his interest in Charley earlier, which had caused her to bring out the stern chaperone in the first place. His mother was an intelligent, discerning woman.
“You would break the agreement made by your father before his passing.”
“There was no official agreement.”
“The match was decided upon years ago.”
“I never agreed to any arrangement, Mother.”
“Jules—” His mother reached out a hand.
“I have an official agreement with Miss Jackson.” He’d said all that he’d intended. He wouldn’t break his word. Not losing Charley meant far too much to him.
Jules loved his mother. She was a strong woman who looked out for her children fiercely. She was also creative and charismatic. But he couldn’t live his life for his mother.
She removed a handkerchief from inside one of her sleeves and dabbed it at the corner of one eye. “Your father must be turning in his grave. An American, Jules? And an uncouth one at that. What on earth are you thinking?”
He ignored the guilt she expertly summoned. “You’ll refrain from making disparaging comments about her.”
“Did you lose a bet? Oh, Jules. Tell me this isn’t because of some wager you made with Chaswick or that Spencer boy.”
Jules rose and crossed to the window, presenting his mother with his back. Blast and damn, she poked her nose into his business far too much for his liking. It was one thing when he’d just stepped into his father’s shoes, quite another now that he was contemplating marriage.
More than contemplating it.
As much as he’d liked to have fulfilled that wish on his father’s part, Jules had always had difficulty envisioning Felicity as hiswife. He scrubbed his hand down his face to erase the unease he felt to even float the idea through his thoughts.
“Spencer is hardly a boy.” He inhaled. “Inform Mrs. Crabtree that her services will not be necessary.”
“Miss Jackson will require a chaperone now more than ever when our guests discover you are… interested in her.”
“Courting her.”
