A Secret Affair (13 page)

“What in the devil was that all about?” he asked the moment they’d reached privacy.

Frances bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. But Lady Lenora was … she was casting aspersions on your manhood, and I couldn’t very well allow her to continue—”

“You said some extremely scandalous things, Frances.”

“I know.” She weaved her gloved fingers together and stared at them.

“You told her you knew firsthand that I prefer women and then you challenged her to a duel?”

Frances winced. So, he’d heard it all, had he? That was unfortunate. “Yes. But I was just so angry.”

Charlie smiled. He couldn’t help himself. No other woman of his acquaintance would challenge another lady to a duel on his behalf. Why did it not surprise him that Frances had done so?

He must choose his words carefully. After last night, he already knew what he wanted. He gathered her hands in his. “Marry me, Frances.”

Frances gulped. “Par … don?”

“Marry me. It only makes sense. You’ve just said a pair of very scandalous things in a ballroom full of people. If we don’t marry, surely your reputation will be ruined and—”

He’d been about to declare himself, tell her how much she meant to him, how he couldn’t live without her, but a thundercloud had appeared on Frances’s face.

“You needn’t worry about that,” she said, her face turning to a stone mask. “I don’t care what Lady Harcourt and her cronies think. They all have vicious tongues and do nothing more than spread vile gossip for the sport of it. We’ll just ignore it all. Go back to being friends.”

Charlie paced away from her. “Friends? You cannot be serious. After last night—”

She put up a hand to stop him. “No. Don’t say it.” She stepped closer and whispered, “It’s not as if we … You didn’t … We didn’t exactly…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. They both knew what she was going to say. He hadn’t taken her virginity.

She drew a deep breath and started again. “You needn’t offer for me out of guilt or because I challenged a lady to a duel over your honor. Nothing’s changed. I know you still intend to become a tutor and I, well, we needn’t see each other again. We should keep our distance after this. It’s as you say, there will be gossip, and the farther we remove ourselves from each other’s company, the better.”

He reached for her and she moved away. “Truly, Charlie. I’d prefer it this way.” She turned to leave, but Charlie took two steps forward and pulled her into his arms. He spun her around, his lips just inches from hers. “You don’t mean that,” he breathed. “Frances, I—”

“Frances, are you out here?” Mrs. Birmingham’s voice echoed down the corridor.

Frances quickly pulled herself away from him, confusion marring her lovely brow.

“I’m here, Mama,” she called, righting her skirts and giving a good-bye nod to Charlie.

Charlie watched her go. Blast it. He’d made a mess of things. He should have begun his proposal by telling her what he thought of her, how much he adored her. She thought he was just being a gentleman asking her to marry him now, and she’d never say yes under such circumstances. Frankly, he didn’t blame her.

Charlie ran his fingers through his hair. He’d made a complete mess of this. He’d just have to rectify it.

He strode down the corridor, the smile returning to his face. Frances had challenged a lady to a duel over him. Who else would do such a thing?

She made it clear she didn’t want to see him again. She’d be leaving town in the morning. But he would see her again … at the wedding.

CHAPTER 27

“The ceremony this morning was absolutely beautiful,” Frances said to Annie with tears of joy in her eyes.

“Wasn’t it?” Lily Morgan added.

Annie smiled and nodded happily. “Thank you, both of you, for being such dears. I couldn’t be happier. The only thing that would make this day more special is if Mother were here.”

They all looked down. Annie and Lily’s mother had died several years earlier.

“She would be so proud of you, Annie,” Lily said.

Annie hugged her sister, then hugged Frances.

The three women had all just awoken from their afternoon naps, ready to begin the evening’s festivities, a grand ball for the wedding of Jordan Holloway, Earl of Ashbourne, to his Countess, Annie.

“I’ll just go back to my rooms to prepare for the ball. I’ll see you soon, Annie.” Frances pressed her hand against her middle to quell her anxiety. She made her way out of Annie’s bedchamber and down the corridor to her own rooms. The truth was, she’d hardly slept a wink this afternoon. Seeing Charlie at the wedding had been awful and wonderful at the same time. He’d stood up with his brother, looking so handsome and dashing in his morning coat. She hadn’t been able to tear her eyes from him until he’d glanced into the crowd and spotted her. It was as if a bolt of lightning had leaped between them. She’d quickly glanced away, hating the fact that he’d caught her watching him.

If there was a scandal in town over what Frances had said to Lady Lenora before she left, there was no indication of it. So far none of the wedding guests had treated her any differently, and she’d heard no rumors. But perhaps Lily and Annie were protecting her. It was something her friends would do.

Frances had managed to avoid Charlie entirely the rest of the morning. It had started snowing steadily immediately after the ceremony, and they’d all made their way quickly back from the church in the village to Ashbourne Manor. Thankfully, she’d sat on the other end of the table from him during the wedding breakfast, and soon after, she’d retired up to her rooms to rest in preparation for the ball. Now, she sat in front of the looking glass contemplating her reflection while the maid Annie had assigned to her put up her hair.

Frances picked up her spectacles and turned them over slowly in her fingers. Then she firmly placed them on the table in front of her. She would not wear her spectacles tonight. She stood and twirled around in a circle, her pink satin ball gown spinning around her ankles.

“You look beautiful, Miss,” the maid murmured.

“Thank you so much for your help,” Frances replied. But she still couldn’t quell the nerves in her middle. She would see Charlie tonight. There was no help for it. And she still had no idea what she would say to him. The last time she’d seen him, the man had offered for her, for goodness’s sake. And she’d refused him. What else was there left to say?

*   *   *

From the moment she and her mother entered the ballroom, Frances was beset with friends. No indication of scandal whatsoever. Lord Ashbourne’s grand ballroom had been transformed into a gorgeous arbor of flowers and trees. The lovely smell of the bulbs lent a perfect atmosphere, and the candles in the crystal chandeliers sparkled above them. Snow was still steadily falling outside, adding quiet beauty to the entire affair. Annie’s wedding had been exquisite, and her wedding ball was even more so. Frances’s heart swelled with pride and love for her friend. Annie deserved nothing less.

Frances danced with Sir Stuart. She even managed to sidestep his assault on her toes. The knight was charming and friendly as always, but she just couldn’t pretend she loved him. It was no use.

Sir Stuart returned her to the sidelines, and she gave him a friendly thanks. Then she turned to her right. He was standing there, so close. As if he’d been waiting for her to return from the dance.

Charlie.

In his formal black evening attire, he looked so good her knees nearly buckled. And the familiar scent of him, like evergreen and soap, made her shiver. She caught her breath. He was staring straight at her. Watching her.

“Miss Birmingham,” Charlie leaned down and whispered in her ear. “You look absolutely … perfect.” His last word was even more hushed, and Frances’s heart clenched.

She wanted to run. She couldn’t do this. Face him. Talk to him. Not tonight. Perhaps not ever. She’d been trying to prepare herself for this moment all week, but now that he was here, standing next to her, taking her hand and bowing over it … She just couldn’t do this.

“Mr. Holloway,” she intoned in a voice that didn’t even sound like her own.

Somehow Sir Stuart faded into the distance, and it was just the two of them, she and Charlie.

She opened her mouth to issue an excuse, some reason she had to leave, immediately, but Charlie’s next words stopped her. “You owe me a dance.” He held out his arm to her.

Her heart nearly stopped. It was true. She owed him a dance from the auction at the engagement party. The man had paid a near fortune for a dance with her, actually. She had to oblige.

She swallowed hard and met his dark, arresting gaze. “So I do.” She placed her hand in his.

He led her to the floor just as a waltz began to play. Frances closed her eyes.

A waltz. It had to be a waltz.

She rested her hand on his shoulder, her other in his hand, and concentrated on staring directly at the black superfine of his expertly tailored evening coat and the startling whiteness of his cravat.

She searched her mind.
Must come up with some appropriate small talk
. “The snow appears to be quite determined.”

His face was inscrutable. “Indeed. I’m glad most of the guests are staying here for the night.”

She nodded. “Yes. Convenient, is it not?”

Then she flushed red. What were they talking about?

“Frances, I—”

“A dance. I owe you that. And I intend to fulfill my obligation, but perhaps it’s best if we do not speak.” Her eyes never wavered from that spot on his coat.

“I see,” he replied quietly.

He danced her around to the edge of the ballroom where it connected to the conservatory, and glancing about as if to ensure they would not be seen, he stopped quickly, and dragged her by the hand through the doors into the humid room.

Frances looked back over her shoulder. Without her spectacles, she could hardly see anything. Would no one come to her rescue? Surely, someone must have seen them leave? Oh, it wasn’t that she was frightened of him. Not of Charlie. Just of what he made her feel. She couldn’t have this talk with him. She wasn’t prepared.

Charlie didn’t say a word. Instead, he led her silently down the mulched path to a group of orange trees that blocked the view of the ballroom. They were entirely alone in the quiet fragrance of the conservatory.

He turned and pulled her into his arms.

She gasped.

“Frances, I—

“Charlie, no. Don’t. I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Do this? Talk to you.” She looked up into his eyes. Oh, she wanted to, surely she did, but she couldn’t put her heart at risk. They may have shared some intimacies, but they had never spoken of love, never declared themselves, and she would settle for no less. Sir Stuart wasn’t right for her, but neither was Charlie … not without love.

“If you don’t want to talk then—” His mouth swooped down to capture hers, and Frances forgot to think. She was off kilter. She nearly stumbled, but he caught her. He held her close, ravaged her mouth, and she sobbed into his. It felt so good, so right, so perfect. She never wanted it to end. Minutes later, he moved his mouth from hers and traced her forehead with his forefinger. “Now, you can listen. You don’t have to talk.”

All she could do was nod. He’d kissed her into a state of dreamy unconsciousness, and for the moment all she could do was stare into his handsome face.

Charlie tipped up her chin with his finger. “I cannot play this little game any more, Frances. I love you, damn it. I fell in love with you somewhere along the way, and I cannot live my life without you.”

Frances gulped, stared at him, and then … smiled. She quickly hid her smile behind her hand. “Pardon?”

“Don’t make me say it again.” He smiled and the dimple in his chin made her legs wobbly.

“But I want you to.”

He rubbed his forehead against hers.

“What exactly are you saying, Charlie?”

He fell to one knee. “I’m saying I want to marry you, Frances. I know I made a mess of it last time, but I don’t want to marry you because of a scandal or because you challenged a lady to a duel in my honor—though I do appreciate it. I want you to marry me because I love you and I cannot live without you.”

Tears burned the backs of Frances’s eyes. “What about your plans? Your teaching?”

“I’m just going to have to be a married tutor. Besides, I already told Jordan yesterday about my plans to open a school, and he’s planning to help me. He’s been most encouraging.”

Frances pulled him up back into her arms and reached up to trace his jawbone with her fingertip. “I’m happy for you, Charlie. Truly I am.”

“So?” he asked, gazing in her eyes, waiting for her answer.

“So, you want to marry me?” she asked coyly.

“Yes.”

“LaFew must come with me. I will not be separated from him.”

Charlie furrowed his brow. “Your cat? You’re worried about your cat at a time like this?”

“I could not possibly accept a proposal of marriage without knowing that he is a welcome part of the betrothal contract.”

Charlie pulled Frances into his arms and kissed her fiercely again. “You may bring a dozen mangy, underfed cats with you, if only you’ll say yes.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s not mangy or underfed
now
.”

Charlie groaned. “Are you purposefully keeping me in suspense?”

She tapped a finger against her cheek, pretending to contemplate the matter for the moment. “Very well. I say yes.”

He smiled, just before his mouth captured hers again.

Frances traced his jaw with her fingertip. “Is that all you want? Marriage?”

Charlie’s rough voice whispered in her ear. “No. I cannot keep my hands off of you any longer.”

Frances giggled. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” His eyes darkened. “Come upstairs with me. Now.”

Frances’s belly leaped. “In the middle of the ball?”

He kissed her temple. “No one will even notice we’ve gone.”

“Won’t they? My mother, Sir Stuart?”

He kissed her ear. “Do you care?”

She bit her lip and gave him a conspiratorial grin before shaking her head. “No.”