“She asked that we speak first thing. As it is already half past eight, any later would not be that, now would it? It’s my understanding you are not a person who sleeps the day away.”
“Not usually,” Charley conceded.
Daisy lifted the lid off the dishes on the tray to reveal a variety of the offerings usually displayed on the sideboard in the morning room. Charley’s chest tightened as she began to suspect that this wasn’t so much a courtesy on the part of her hostess but rather something less… hospitable.
“Lady Westerley believes you will be more comfortable if you keep to yourself until your father returns to Westerley Crossings. In light of your behavior yesterday, that is. For your own sake, of course. She says it ought to only be a few more days and that all you’ll really miss will be the ball. And we both know that dancing isn’t something you’re particularly fond of.” Ah, yes, Mrs. Crabtree had been sitting in the corner for the one lesson that Jules had managed to arrange —scowling and frowning that Charley had had the temerity to have the lord of the manor as her partner.
Any other day and she wouldn’t have minded the banishment, as it only would have allowed her to spend time alone reading or thinking up new ideas for how to improve her recipes. But today? When she desperately needed to see Jules, to learn the truth about the paperwork Felicity’s father had shown him? She despised the idea of being forced to stay in her chamber.
“She thinks to protect me from her other guests?” Charley couldn’t help but clarify. “Or protect her guests from me?” Surely, the countess didn’t expect her to remain locked inside her chamber until her father arrived back from Scotland? Charley hugged her elbows, holding her arms protectively and stifled an urge to panic.
“You brought this on yourself.” The woman stood firm. “It will be best for you to remain out of sight.” Mrs. Crabtree strolled across the room to take a seat by the window for all the world as though she would sit there all day if necessary. “Don’t mind me. You should eat before the food grows cold.”
Charley ignored the food and instead allowed Daisy to assist her into the best day dress she owned. It was a bright emerald made of soft muslin and her grandmother had ordered it from a modiste they’d visited the first day after she’d arrived.
And she was grateful for the added confidence it gave her. Because at some point, she was determined to escape her jailer and find Jules.
She needed to know exactly what had happened yesterday, and depending on so many other uncertainties, she needed to make sure that he didn’t do anything that might ruin the plan brewing in her mind.
She wanted him, but only if he truly wanted her—only if he loved her. And if that was the case, she wanted him to come to her with no regrets.
But she needed to talk to him first.
Alone.
His muscles achedfrom his efforts getting the horses to pull them safely back to the manor, and his head pounded from the conversation he’d had with his mother and Brightly, but he never made it to his chamber. Even if he had, he doubted he would have slept.
Instead, he spent most of the night in his study drinking and observing perhaps what must surely be the longest chess game in history. While Stone and Greys checkmated one another more times than any of them could count, Chase and Mantis wagered with one another over ridiculous outcomes that had absolutely nothing to do with the actual game.
Disheartened, Jules merely settled in as an observer.
And of course, they’d not kept their jibes to themselves. Why would they?
Jules had disappeared for most of the day with a beautiful woman. It was their God-given duty to harass him for doing something so patently foolish.
Helped along by the loosening effects of the remaining scotch, Jules had given them the pertinent details of his present predicament. For the most part, they refrained from offering any advice. But leave it to Stone to toss out a philosophical question for all of them to consider.
“Honor your father’s dying decree or honor the love of your life?” He’d bent over, cue in hand, and sent the colorful wooden balls in all directions.
“Well, the answer to that question is an easy one,” Mantis supplied. “You honor the one who’s alive.”
All of them searched each other’s gazes upon hearing Mantis’ declaration. The concept was a startling one.
Because honor was not something any of them would ever be careless with. It was what made each of them who they were. It gave them the ability to hold their head high. It allowed them some justification for the entitlement of their position—even if only to themselves.
“That begs the other part of the question then.” Stone had walked around the table and then eyed Jules. “Is she the love of your life?”
These men knew Jules better than anyone else. They lived in the same world, and for the most part, dealt with the same expectations.
Stone, although an earl’s son, didn’t live with the same pressures. He was the second son of the Earl of Ravensdale. A man, incidentally, who hadn’t inherited until later in life and for years raised his children not far from Cheapside.
Stone tended to see things a little differently than the others because of his unique position.
Jules echoed the question, already knowing the answer. Was Charley the love of his life? A myriad of images, of her laughing, drinking whiskey, helping him drag the horses through the storm, and then the deep humming of satisfaction she’d breathed in his ear as he’d buried himself in her sweet warmth.
Damn straight she was.
Brightley could wave about contracts signed by the king himself, and Jules would find some way to circumvent it.
