A Secret Affair (6 page)

Finally, after several minutes, Charlie’s mouth slowed, and he pulled himself carefully away from her. Her hands fell to her sides, and he took a step back. Was he breathing heavily? Surely not as heavily as she. She self-consciously swiped her fingers across her burning lips. Oh, she was not going to be the same after this.

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “That was absolutely perfect. I so wanted you to be my first kiss.”

*   *   *

Charlie stood there panting, willing his overheated body back to normal and his overactive breathing too. Frances had literally stolen his breath. He watched her carefully, silently. She was staring up at him with blue eyes as wide as the bottoms of brandy glasses and looked so vulnerable and pretty.

Frances was looking at him as if … as if … as if she’d just fallen madly in love with him. The kiss itself had shaken him. To the core. He’d been more moved by it than—ahem—he’d expected to be. His cock was throbbing. He was more aroused than he had any right to be. He’d done this to prove a point. Perhaps to himself. Perhaps to her. He didn’t know any more, but something about the intensity of their kiss scared the hell out of him as did the way she was looking at him.

Good Lord. He’d just made a huge mistake. But not because she was staring at him in shock and wonder. No. It was much worse than that. It was because he’d felt something. Too much. Why in the bloody hell had he thought this was a good idea again? He could blame Jordan for this somehow, couldn’t he?

Fear prompted him to speak. He cleared his throat. “Miss Birmingham, Frances, I hope you do not think—”

She placed a hand on his and squeezed. “Please Mr. Holloway, Charlie. Stop. Don’t say anything more. I should hate for such a perfect moment to be ruined.”

Capital
. She knew he was making a complete ass of himself too.

Without saying another word, she turned, made her way to the door, and slipped into the corridor.

CHAPTER 10

“And then what happened?” Annie asked, brown eyes wide, leaning across Mama’s sewing table so far Frances thought she might fall from her seat.

“And then he … kissed me.” Frances couldn’t control her blush.

That was it. Annie toppled to the floor. She braced her palms on the rug and quickly scrambled back into her seat again, righting herself and her clothing. “He did
what
?”

Frances squirmed in her chair. “Yes. He kissed me.”

Annie tossed her hands in the air. “Finally.”

“No. No. It wasn’t like what you’re thinking.”

Annie narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?’

“Well, um. Let’s just say that Mr. Holloway made it quite clear that he is not exactly interested.”

Annie sniffed. “First of all, now that he’s kissed you, I daresay you should call him by his first name, and secondly, what was he doing kissing you if he’s not interested?”

“I’m not entirely certain. I’d offered after all. I think he wanted to see what it was like, too.”

“But what makes you think he’s not interested?”

“He reiterated that he has no intention of marrying any time soon.”

Annie fluttered a hand in the air. “Oh, that’s what they all say.”

“Perhaps … but he sounded quite convincing.”

Annie tapped her finger against her cheek. “He said that after the kiss?”

“No, before.”

“What did he say after?”

Frances shifted her sewing in her lap. “He didn’t say much, really.”

Annie sniffed again. “Then for all you know he was knocked head over heels and rendered speechless.”

Frances plunked a hand on her hip and gave Annie a skeptical look. “Now
that
I highly doubt. But I didn’t give him much of a chance to say anything. I stopped him actually. And then I left.”

Annie’s blinking intensified. “You left?”

Frances nodded, absentmindedly pulling at the thread attached to her sewing needle.

“Why did you leave?”

“He didn’t look as if he were about to swoon. And I … well, I just wanted to remember it that way, as one perfect kiss. Talking always seems to complicate matters.”

Annie shoved her sewing aside and stood up to pace in front of the fireplace. “Of course he didn’t swoon, Frances; he’s a man. Men don’t swoon. They … contemplate.”

“If he was contemplating me, I couldn’t tell.”

“Oh, he’s contemplating you all right. He kissed you, didn’t he? He came to the Chathams’ ball specifically to kiss you. I’d say that’s quite promising.”

“I don’t know for certain that he came there specifically to kiss me.”

“But you suspect it.”

France thought about it for a moment. “It’s true. I hadn’t seen him there before he approached me.”

“And he
did
kiss you?” Annie pointed out.

Frances turned her attention back to her needlework. “I only know what he said which is that he has no intention of marrying anytime soon.” She wasn’t about to betray Charlie’s confidence by telling Annie about his plans to become a tutor. They’d made a pact, after all.

Annie flung a hand in the air. “Well, if he doesn’t like you, he must not like women.”

Frances’s eyes went wide. “What did you say?”

“I said if he doesn’t like you, he must not like women. Any of them. Not in
that
way at least.”

Frances cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Annie glanced down, twisting one of her fingers with the opposite hand. “Oh no. I hope I haven’t shocked you. Surely you know that such men exist.”

Frances shook her head. “What men?”

Annie turned a bit pink. “I’m sorry to be the one to inform you, and your mother is certain to hate me for it, but yes, there are men who.… how shall I say it? Prefer the company of other men to that of … women.”

Frances covered her hand with her mouth, then slowly pulled her fingers away. “You mean…?”

Annie nodded.

“I had no idea.” Frances’s mouth was a wide O.

“It’s not talked about much, and it’s forbidden to be sure, but it … it happens.”

Frances made a show of smoothing her skirts. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell Mama you told me. But I daresay just because Mr. Holloway doesn’t take a fancy to me, doesn’t mean he won’t take a fancy to
any
woman. It would be exceedingly self-centered of me to believe such a thing.”

Annie shrugged. “I wouldn’t doubt it. There is no other reason whatsoever that he shouldn’t adore you.”

Frances considered it for a moment. Interesting, she supposed, that such a concept existed, but it didn’t matter one way or the other. She was too practical for that. “It’s nice of you to try to cheer me, Annie, but I don’t believe it for one moment.”

Annie reached over and patted Frances’s hand. “Just say the word and I shall refund your money for the auction entirely. I feel as if it’s all my fault that this has been so dreadful for you.”

Frances squeezed her friend’s hand. “You’re a loyal friend. But I would never take your money. Besides, it went to the animals, and Papa’s pleased with that. In the end it truly doesn’t matter. Whatever the reason, if Mr. Holloway isn’t interested in me, he isn’t interested.” She bit her lip. “I don’t mean to be rude, Annie, but I … I don’t want to be like you were with Mr. Eggleston. I must accept the truth and move on.”

Annie smiled brightly. “I take absolutely no offense, Fran. You know I would never wish my idiotic mistakes with Mr. Eggleston upon you. Jordan was always right about that. If a man is interested, he shows his interest. It really is quite simple.”

Frances nodded. “Exactly. And lately the man who has been showing the most interest in me is Sir Stuart Walters.”

“Sir Stuart?” Annie blinked. Was that the hint of a frown on her lips? “I hadn’t realized.”

“Yes, he’s been hovering around at balls and being ever so conscientious. Mama likes him quite a lot.”

Annie’s nose wrinkled but she said nothing else about Sir Stuart. “May I ask you one more question about your kiss with Charlie?”

“Of course,” Frances answered.

Annie leaned forward again, perhaps poised for another topple from the chair. “You never said … how did you feel when Charlie kissed you?”

Frances squeezed her hands together. “Oh, Annie,” she said, pressing her fingers against her cheeks. “I felt the blasted butterflies.”

CHAPTER 11

Charlie had no bloody idea why he was standing alone in the middle of the Kidwells’ ballroom like a fool. He’d never been one to attend many Society functions. Oh, he’d made the obligatory appearance once in a while to maintain his social status. He usually took a look at the current crop of young unmarried ladies to see if one happened to catch his eye, but he’d never made a habit of attending more than one event in a row. Lately he’d been making the rounds like a bloody candidate for Parliament. And most sickening of all, tonight here he was like some lovesick swain peering around the corners of the rout in an attempt to … very well he might as well admit it … catch a glimpse of Frances Birmingham.

The chit had affected him, damn it. That kiss they’d shared. It had been downright tempting, arousing, unforgettable. And much to his chagrin, he found himself wanting to repeat it. Damn Jordan for suggesting he kiss the girl. He’d been perfectly happy before that.

Charlie glanced around again. He’d been at this particular party for over an hour now, and Frances hadn’t appeared. He groaned and rubbed his fingers through his hair. He tugged at his cravat. The room was stifling. He needed some air. Yes. Air was in order. He needed to clear his head. Some sanity might return. Excellent plan. Then he would bloody well take himself home and forget all of this nonsense.

He turned on his heel and stalked into the corridor and down to the Kidwells’ morning room. He opened the French doors to the gardens behind the house and stepped out into the chilly November night. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Cold air. Ever so useful to clear the mind and reevaluate one’s temporary madness.

What was Charlie even doing here? Jordan had made things easy on him, becoming engaged. Charlie had only to do what he wanted now. A family was no longer important. He could use the goodly amount he’d inherited from his mother to start a school, perhaps anonymously even, if he did it in the country. He’d have to speak with Lord Medford for some tips on that score—anonymously owning a business. And he needed to speak with Lord Avery. The man had connections to professors at Oxford and Cambridge. He would be an excellent source of knowledge.

Charlie took another deep cleansing breath. If it was so bloody clear, why didn’t he retire to the country immediately and start his new life? Jordan was about to marry, the wedding only days away. Charlie was duty-bound to stay in town and help his brother get leg-shackled, then he’d move on with his life.

But why couldn’t he scrub the inviting kiss he’d shared with Frances Birmingham from his memory? And he
was
thinking about her again. Blast it! He was behaving like a complete fool. That was all. He’d leave. Immediately. Do his duty to his brother by standing up with him at the wedding and then get on with his own affairs. He took a few more deep breaths of the chilly air and turned to leave just when the door behind him clicked open and Lady Lenora Harcourt slipped onto the balcony.

“Mr. Holloway,” she said in a sultry voice. “I saw you leave the ballroom. I thought you might enjoy some company.”

Charlie faced the seductive beauty. He wanted just the opposite, but he could hardly say that out loud. “I thought some fresh air might do me good.”

“Me too,” she said.

“Yes, well, I was just about to leave. May I escort you back into the party before I go?”

“So eager to rid yourself of me?” she asked instead.

Charlie froze. She wasn’t about to make this easy for him. “No. Not at all.”

“Then you won’t mind staying with me for a bit while I enjoy the night air, will you? It really is quite bracing.”

He summoned a smile. “Happy to oblige.”

Lady Lenora moved closer and slid a hand through his arm. “Take me for a turn in the garden, won’t you?”

He stiffened. “I’m not certain there’s much to see there this time of year.”

“Oh, I only want it for the exercise. It’ll do us good.” She plastered herself to the side of his body.

Charlie nodded. “Very well.”

He led her down the stone steps and out into the chilly night. A slight frost on the grass crunched beneath his booted feet as they walked.

“The moonlight is quite beautiful, isn’t it?” Lady Lenora sighed. She looked up into his face.

“Quite,” he answered with measured nonchalance.

“Oh, come this way. I want to see the statue of Venus.” She pointed across the way to a little nook beneath an arbor of twisted branches.

Charlie grudgingly strolled over with her.

As soon as they were within the arbor, Lady Lenora turned to face him. Charlie looked back. They were quite privately distanced from the house. Just as the lady had planned, no doubt.

He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should return—”

“Or perhaps we should do this.” Lady Lenora raised up on tiptoes, wrapped her arms possessively around his neck, and kissed him full on the mouth. Charlie didn’t react. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts. Lady Harcourt was beautiful, she was obviously willing, and she was clearly experienced. But try as he might, he couldn’t make his lips respond. Lady Lenora was just the sort he should have a brief interlude with. He’d been sorely in need of a woman of late, and the lush widow would have no long-term expectations. She’d be off to her next conquest soon enough, and Charlie would be none the worse for it. But the image of Frances Birmingham kept floating through his mind. He lifted his hands to Lady Lenora’s shoulders and firmly pushed her away. “No.”

Lady Lenora’s full red lips formed a pout. “No? Why not?” She traced one long tapered nail along his jaw. “It could be fun, if you’d let it.”

Charlie shook his head. “While the offer is tempting, Lady Harcourt. I’m not looking for that sort of ‘fun’ at the moment. Good evening.”

He turned on his heel and left the arbor, no doubt with the burn marks from Lady Lenora’s eyes scorching the back of his evening coat.