A Secret Affair (3 page)

Charlie tugged on his cuffs and strode over to the door to his room. He made his way down the stairs, his steps slowing as he neared the foyer.

“Charlie, good to see you,” Jordan’s voice boomed. “Going to Miss Birmingham’s house, I assume.”

“Yes, I was just on my way over,” Charlie replied.

“I’m off soon myself to Colton’s to escort Lily and Annie with Colton.” The Marquis of Colton was Jordan’s closest friend and Annie’s sister’s husband.

Charlie nodded. “Excellent. Then I’ll see the four of you at the ball?”

Jordan snorted. “Yes, and I told Annie, for one-hundred-fifty pounds, you ought to carry Miss Birmingham and her mother on your back to the bloody ball.”

“I don’t know about that.” Charlie arched a brow. “But I shall endeavor to be exceedingly clever and charming. Tell Annie not to worry.”

“Oh, she’ll worry.”

“And tell her not to think for one moment I don’t know what she’s up to,” Charlie added.

Jordan glanced at him. “Up to?”

“Yes. Unless I mistake my guess, your bride is attempting to play matchmaker.”

Jordan laughed out loud. “Oh, you’re not mistaken. If I know Annie, that’s just what she’s up to.”

“Yes, well, tell the charming Miss Andrews, not to get her hopes up.”

*   *   *

The minutes Charlie spent in the Birminghams’ foyer seemed interminable. He greeted Mrs. Birmingham, Mr. Birmingham, and even the bloody butler, and nodded to a footman before Frances made her entrance.

Frances was just as matter-of-fact as he remembered her. Dressed in a fetching pink ball gown, she looked like a pretty bird with a pair of silver spectacles perched on her nose. Her cheeks, pink like her gown, glowed, and her eyes, bright and blue and inquisitive, watched him. Miss Birmingham always seemed to be studying everything, the people around her, the objects, the setting. It was as if she were taking it all in in an effort to recall it in perfect detail later. He couldn’t remember ever being around a young lady who seemed so interested in everything else besides herself.

Did she keep a journal? The thought sprang unbidden to his mind. Such an examiner must be a writer. He quickly shook the notion away as she made her way to the bottom of the staircase.

“Miss Birmingham,” he said, bowing over the dainty gloved hand she presented to him. “You’re a vision as always.”

“And you’re … your fabric…” She blushed bright pink. “Thank you very much, Mr. Holloway.”

What was that bit about fabric
?

Her mother gave Charlie an approving smile. Her father gave him a warning stare, and Charlie immediately ushered the two ladies out of the house and into his carriage with as much finesse as he could muster.

Once they were settled into the coach, Charlie watched the two women seated across from him. Right. What exactly did one talk about with a young woman who’d essentially paid for one’s company?

Be witty. Be charming
.

“Excellent weather, is it not? For the Wilmingtons’ ball?”

Idiot. That was neither witty nor charming.

Frances nodded rapidly, the wide blond curls at her temples bobbing. They were quite fetching, actually. “Oh, yes, I quite agree.”

“It’s getting cold. I daresay we’ll see the first snow of the season before long,” Mrs. Birmingham added pleasantly, hitching up the collar of her pelisse.

Charlie eyed the older woman carefully. What did Frances’s mother think about her daughter spending such a large amount of money on an evening with him? Had Frances been a wallflower? He couldn’t recall exactly. She was a pretty enough girl. She shouldn’t need to pay to draw a man’s attention. Then again, neither did Lady Lenora, and she’d seemed rather eager to part with a good deal of blunt for the honor of spending the evening with Charlie. Most curious, all of it.

His gaze turned to Frances. She was looking out the window, her nose wrinkled in an adorable manner and her hands resting inside the muff that lay upon her lap. He stared at her profile. She was pretty. No doubt about it. She must be Annie’s age, around twenty. Which meant she’d already been out for two Seasons with no success. But that didn’t exactly put her on the shelf. Would it be ungentlemanly of him to ask her later, if they had a moment alone, why exactly she’d thought it worth the money to bid on him? Come to think on it, he might ask Lady Lenora as well if the opportunity ever presented itself.

“I do hope it doesn’t snow too much before Annie and Lord Ashbourne’s wedding,” Frances said, turning her attention away from the window. “She’s planned an engagement party for next week, and the wedding itself will be in the country at Ashbourne Manor.”

“Yes,” Charlie agreed. “Snow might complicate the travel arrangements.”

“Oh, of course you know all that, being Lord Ashbourne’s brother,” she murmured.

Frances met his eyes and then looked away, glancing out the window again. Had he embarrassed her? No. She didn’t seem like the embarrassed sort.

“Don’t worry about that. If I know our Annie, I’m certain she’ll find a way to marry the earl rain or shine,” Mrs. Birmingham added with a nod.

Charlie hid his smile. Mrs. Birmingham was entirely correct. Annie wasn’t about to let a little matter like weather ruin her wedding plans. The young woman defined the word ‘determined.’

Thankfully, the rest of the journey progressed with more welcome small talk, and soon the three of them were being introduced at the Wilmingtons’ ball.

“Oh, won’t you excuse me for a moment? I think I see Annie,” Frances said almost as soon as they’d finished greeting their hosts.

Charlie let out a breath of relief. He’d go to Lord Wilmington’s study and have a quick drink in the interim; it might calm his nerves a bit. Besides, if he knew his brother and the Marquis of Colton, both men were already there … imbibing.

Charlie took his leave of the ladies and headed directly to the study.

*   *   *

Frances spotted Annie in the crowd again and walked as quickly as possible over to her. Thankfully, Annie was standing with only her sister, Lily. Lord Ashbourne was nowhere to be seen.

When Annie saw her, a bright smile lit her face. “Frances, what are you doing here … alone?” Annie stood on tiptoes, obviously searching for Charlie in the crowd behind Frances.

Lily greeted Frances warmly with a smile.

“Oh, Annie. I cannot believe I ever allowed you to talk me into bidding on him!” Frances put her hands to her cheeks. “I’ve spent the last twenty minutes in the coach trying to keep my face from bursting into flames. I mentioned his fabric. I’m a complete ninny.”

Annie remained on tiptoes. “Whatever are you talking about? Where’s Charlie? Didn’t he come with you?”

“Of course he came with me. He brought Mama and me here. Mama just went off in search of her friends. She’s pleased as punch even if Papa is still a bit miffed over the money. But
I
feel like a fool.”

Annie’s face fell. “A fool? Why?”

“Because I paid an exorbitant amount of money for Mr. Holloway to escort me here and now I have absolutely no idea what to do with him.”

Annie’s tinkling laughter greeted Frances’s ear. “Don’t know what to do with him? Why, Frances. I thought it would be obvious. Talk to him, flirt with him, dance with him. You have the entire evening to spend in his company. As you said, see if you two get on. Ask him what he likes to do and tell him what you like in return. At any rate, you should be with him and not me. Your poor papa and his pocketbook would quite agree.”

Lily nodded sagely. “I agree too. Where is Mr. Holloway, Frances? Did you send him off in search of lemonade?”

Frances glanced over her shoulder. “I’m not certain where he went, to be honest.”

“The study, no doubt,” Annie added.

“Yes, that’s where Jordan and Devon are,” Lily said.

Annie patted Frances on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. He won’t be gone long; he knows he needs to spend time with you.”

Frances twisted the fingers of her left hand. “But that’s just it. I don’t know what to say to him.”

Lily pointed across the ballroom discreetly with her fan. “Look. He’s just come back into the room. Don’t say anything, dear. Go dance with him. Have fun.”

Frances spun around, swallowing. There he was, all tall, dark, and handsome. Why, the man was so good-looking he made Frances’s knees weak. But she refused to be a ninny. Yes, it was true that she fancied him madly. Any girl with at least one functioning eye would. And the man may not be titled, but he came from an impeccable family and had a large settlement from his mother’s estate upon which he lived comfortably. He was exceedingly eligible.

But what she liked about him—really liked about him—was that Charlie Holloway was ever so smart. Intelligent, really. She’d heard him speak about the plays of Shakespeare, the pensioning of an estate manager, and the history of Egypt, all with the same clever wit and knowledge with which he appeared to approach everything.

She’d been listening in circles when he probably hadn’t even realized she was there. Eavesdropping again. But what had started as mere interest had quickly turned into a full-blown infatuation. That’s why she’d bid on him. Well, that and Annie had mercilessly goaded her into it. And once Lady Harcourt had begun bidding, well, Frances couldn’t help it if she was a bit—ahem—competitive. It had driven her mad, authorizing Annie to up the bid by a few paltry pounds each time. Once it had become clear that Lady Harlot, er Harcourt, wasn’t about to stop, Frances had marched out there and put an end to it.

Lady Lenora had been tempted to best her; it was obvious. Her bright green eyes had flashed with anger, but in the end, one-hundred-fifty pounds had been too much for her. For that matter, Frances’s father had been none too pleased with the amount, either, but when she made an argument about how all the money went to the poor animals at the Royal Society, her papa had firmly patted the head of his beloved Labrador retriever, cleared his throat, and nodded.

Frances turned around and straightened her shoulders. Yes. She would stop acting like a scared little fool and go be charming to Mr. Holloway. He might not be half as interesting as he’d seemed, after all. She didn’t know him that well, but it was high time to find out. She nodded firmly and made her way across the ballroom.

Mr. Holloway met her halfway. She eyed him up and down. If he’d been drinking, she couldn’t tell. But any real gentleman wouldn’t imbibe too much. And Mr. Holloway was obviously a gentleman.

“Miss Birmingham,” he said, bowing to her and causing her belly do an unexpected flip, “May I have this dance?”

Oh, no. Butterflies in her stomach. Hadn’t Annie said those pesky little insects appeared when one was madly in love? Of course it was ludicrous to assume anything of the sort under such circumstances, but their appearance unsettled Frances nonetheless.

She bit her lip and then smiled. “By all means, Mr. Holloway, you may.”

Mr. Holloway, it seemed, was a magical dancer. Quite spry for a man so tall. And he made her laugh the entire time with stories and comments about the dance as well as the other dancers.

The dancing ended and Frances knew true regret. Well, he’d been charming to her mother and he’d passed the dancing test. Both items to recommend him so far. She’d like to dance more, actually.

She was just about to mention it when she turned around and knocked straight into Lady Lenora Harcourt.

CHAPTER 5

“There you are, Mr. Holloway,” Lady Lenora’s smooth voice flowed from her berry-red lips like wine from a knocked-over bottle.

Charlie bowed. “Lady Harcourt.”

“Miss Birmingham,” Lady Lenora said, clearly acknowledging Frances out of necessity. Her nose remained pinched the entire time, however, as if she smelled something rancid.

Frances had fantasies of tripping her and then asking Charlie to dance again.

“I’m awfully sorry we haven’t had an opportunity to spend more time together this evening,” Lady Lenora said, looking up at Charlie with her big green eyes wide and batting her lashes without shame.

The nerve
. Frances clenched her fist.
That harlot
. But Lady Lenora, no doubt, wouldn’t have bungled the fabric line.

“Yes, well, I do hope you enjoy your evening, Lady Harcourt,” Mr. Holloway replied.

Frances wanted to sink through the floor. She looked down at her pink gown. It seemed childish and silly compared to Lady Lenora’s gorgeous emerald one that brought out the beauty of her eyes. And of course Lady Lenora didn’t wear awful little spectacles. Frances had tried to go without them, but she was never able to see things as well and she didn’t like to miss anything. She’d long ago sacrificed beauty for function. Again, much to her mama’s dismay. At the moment, however, Frances wished her spectacles to perdition.

“I do hope you might be able to spare a dance for me later, Mr. Holloway,” Lady Lenora added with a catlike smile.

Frances had to bunch her hand in her skirts to keep from slapping her.

Mr. Holloway had the grace to look humble. “My apologies,” he replied. “But I’m spending the evening at Miss Birmingham’s side. Perhaps another time.”

If Frances were the swooning sort, she certainly would have done so. Instead, she gave a little toss of her head in Lady Lenora’s direction and said yes immediately when Mr. Holloway asked her for the next dance. Lady Lenora soon faded into the crowd and Charlie swept Frances into his arms.

“Why did you do that?” The question escaped her lips before she had a chance to examine it. She wanted to clap her hand over her mouth.
Not subtle, Frances
.

“Do what?” Charlie’s oh-so-handsome brow was furrowed.

She might as well be out with it. No use in pretending. And besides, she wanted to know. “Refuse to dance with Lady Harcourt.”

Charlie’s grin made Frances’s knees weak again. “As I recall, Lady Harcourt
lost
the bid.”

Frances couldn’t help her triumphant smile. “She did indeed.”

“And I find I’m having quite an enjoyable time with you.” Had he just winked at her? Good thing she was not a swooner.