A Secret Affair (9 page)

“Sir Stuart is invited to the engagement party tomorrow night,” Annie reminded her, giving Frances a conspiratorial smile. “The perfect time to test the theory if you ask me.”

Frances nodded resolutely. “Thank you, Annie. I intend to do just that.”

CHAPTER 19

Charlie was sitting in the study of Devon Morgan’s town house, when Annie came barreling through the door. He’d come to attend the engagement party and had been waiting for his brother and the marquis who had yet to make an appearance. Instead, he found himself confronted by his brother’s future bride, her cheeks pink, and her breathing labored.

“Have you been … running?” He arched a brow.

Annie pressed her hand to her middle. “Why, yes. Yes, I have.”

“Dare I ask, why?” Charlie responded.

“Because I had to get here before Jordan and Devon did, of course. Now listen, I don’t have much time.”

Charlie shook his head. His soon-to-be sister-in-law was full of surprises. He’d give her that. Jordan was in for a life full of mischief with this one, but Charlie liked her immensely and more importantly, his brother adored her. She’d made Jordan happy after years of his not believing in love.

Annie glanced over her shoulder. “I sent Jordan on an errand to fetch me my shawl, but he’ll be here any moment so I must speak quickly.”

“By all means,” Charlie replied. “I cannot wait to hear this.” He stood, crossed over to the sideboard, and poured himself a drink.

Annie followed him. “Frances is staying here with me for the next day or two. To help me with the wedding preparations.”

“I see.”

“But that’s not what I came to tell you.”

Charlie looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Then what is it?”

“Sir Stuart Walters will be here at the party tonight.”

Charlie clenched his fist on the decanter. “I expected as much,” he answered noncommittally. “Nice enough chap.”

Annie shook her head. “No. No. You don’t understand. Sir Stuart will be here, and he means to offer for Frances.”

Charlie’s jaw went hard. It wasn’t news, but he also wasn’t quite certain why Annie was telling him. “Yes. Frances mentioned something about it to me.”

“I’d like you to help me with something,” Annie continued.

Charlie shrugged. “I don’t see what I can do about it, though I cannot say I’d enjoy watching her marry that fool.”

Annie arched her brow this time. “Oh, so now he’s a fool, is he? Not a nice chap?”

Drink in hand, Charlie turned to face her. “What’s your point, Annie?”

Annie crossed her arms firmly over her chest. “My point is, I’d greatly appreciate it if you would give Sir Stuart a bit of friendly competition.”

Charlie eyed her carefully. “I don’t see how it’s any of my business whatsoever, and I—”

“Oh, Charlie,” Annie said, fluttering over to him, reaching up on tiptoes and touching a quick kiss to his cheek. “For once in your life, don’t be so cerebral. It isn’t any of your business whatsoever, but don’t you just want to? I have a feeling that Frances isn’t quite as settled on the match as she should be and I question Sir Stuart’s devotion. Do it for me, won’t you? Don’t worry. I’ll present you with the perfect opportunity. You merely have to take it.” She smiled at him brightly. “Now, don’t tell Jordan we had this conversation. He’s not enamored of what he calls my ‘schemes’.”

And with that, Annie patted Charlie on the shoulder and flew from the room.

*   *   *

“All right, everyone gather around.” Annie clapped her hands, and the occupants of the drawing room pulled their chairs in a wide circle. Charlie had just finished a most intriguing discussion with Viscount Medford. Apparently Medford had taken an interest in the story of the young dowager duchess of Markingham. Her grace was in the Tower of London accused of murdering her husband. Oliver Townsende, the next in line to the dukedom, had already taken over his cousin’s office, and the entire town was buzzing about the scandal.

The two men had spoken privately but if Charlie didn’t miss his guess, Medford had just found the subject of his next scandalous pamphlet. The viscount owned a printing press that few knew about.

At Annie’s words, all of the guests of the engagement party turned to face their hostess. Annie had a glass of wine in one hand, her third of the evening, if Charlie was counting correctly. He couldn’t be entirely certain, however, because the men had just joined the women after dinner. She may have had another glass in the interim.

Charlie glanced over at Frances. He couldn’t
stop
glancing over at Frances, actually. She looked so pretty in her pink gown. Pink was her favorite color. He’d noted that about her. Her hair rested atop her head in a loose chignon, and the curls that framed her face made her almost ethereal. Her spectacles rested squarely on her pert little nose, and Charlie had the sudden urge to pull them from her face, rip the pins from her hair, and kiss her senseless.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, turning his attention back toward Annie who stood in front of the group, an impish grin on her face.

“Now, you know I recently served as the sponsor for an event in honor of the Royal Society for the Humane Treatment of Animals.”

A murmur of approval rippled through the group. Charlie narrowed his eyes on her. Where exactly was she headed with this? He glanced over at Sir Stuart who was sitting a bit too close to Frances for Charlie’s taste.

“It was an auction,” Annie continued. “A bachelor auction.”

“Annie,” came Lily Morgan’s warning voice from the crowd. “What are you up to?”

Annie took another swallow of wine and grinned at her sister. “Just having a bit of fun.”

Charlie watched Frances shift in her seat. She looked a bit uneasy.

“As I was saying,” Annie continued. “It was a bachelor auction and it was an enormous success, thanks to many of you.” She nodded at Tim, Michael, and then Charlie.

Charlie inclined his head toward her, his eyes still narrowed.

“And I thought it might be a lark if we had another auction tonight. Just for fun!”

A small gasp rippled across the room. Jordan raised his brows. Lily gave her sister a condemning glare. For a parlor game, this one was a bit beyond the pale. But most especially, Charlie didn’t like the look his future sister-in-law gave him when her eyes settled on him.

“Another bachelor auction?” someone called.

“No!” The smile on Annie’s face grew bigger. “This time I’m thinking we should allow the gentlemen to bid upon the
ladies
.”

“Oh, what fun!” called two young unmarried ladies from the center of the room. “What shall the gentleman win exactly?”

Much conjecture and giggling rippled through the group before Annie snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it! The high bidder wins the first dance with the lady at our wedding ball next week.”

The suggestion was met with shouts of approval. “It’s settled then!” Annie said. “We shall have an impromptu auction and the proceeds will go to the animals again. Besides, this is the last time I shall be able to participate in such an event.” She winked at Jordan. “You’d best bid top coin for me, my love.”

Jordan whistled. “I’m not certain I can afford you, my darling.” But the smile on his face shone with adoration.

“I believe this is where I take my leave,” murmured Lord Medford from Charlie’s side. The viscount stood, bowed to both sisters, said his good-byes, and quickly left the room.

Why did Charlie have a sinking feeling he should have followed? Lord Medford always knew what he was about.

The chairs were cleared to the back of the room in short order, and a makeshift dais was fashioned by placing two huge volumes of books next to each other on the floor. The first young lady for auction was Miss Merrywood. The second, Lady Sarah Rivington. They were bid upon in short order by Michael Holloway and Lord Bramley for the tidy sum of five pounds each. Annie went next, and Jordan, with much laughter and goading from the crowd, bid twenty-five pounds for his future wife. Annie pleaded with her future brothers-in-law to up their bids. By the end, Jordan had promised to donate fifty pounds to the Society, and Annie fell laughingly into his arms.

Next, Annie danced over to where Frances sat and tugged her friend’s hand.

“No, no. I’d really rather not,” Frances said, and Charlie watched with mounting ire. Frances was shy. She didn’t wish to stand up in front of everyone. He knew just how she felt.

“Oh, you must,” Annie replied, grinning at Frances. “For the animals, my dear.”

Frances bit her lip, but finally acquiesced, and was soon standing atop the two books, quietly surveying the drawing room’s occupants.

“Now!” Annie announced. “Here we have Miss Birmingham. Beautiful, smart, and exceedingly clever. She can sew a button on a gown in less than a minute, and I can honestly say I have never been able to best her at draughts. What is the opening bid?”

“Fifty-one pounds!” Sir Stuart shouted. “I bid fifty-one pounds!”

Charlie clenched his jaw. Annie’s eyes looked as if they might pop from their sockets. And Frances looked as if she might swoon, if she were a swooner, that is.

“What? Why, fifty-one pounds.” Annie pressed her hand to her chest. “My, that is a generous bid.”

Charlie glanced at Sir Stuart. The man had a smug smile on his face. He obviously intended to be the night’s highest bidder, and he was already certain his bid would not be matched. Annie had clearly invented this little game for the sake of providing Sir Stuart with the competition she’d asked Charlie to deliver. He didn’t like being a pawn in a game like this. If Frances had second thoughts about Sir Stuart, that was none of his affair.

“Sixty.” The word escaped Charlie’s lips before he’d even had a chance to examine it. Game or not, by God, he would not let Sir Stuart win this.

Annie’s gaze flew to his face and the hint of a smile played at her lips. “Sixty,” she repeated softly, nodding to Charlie.

Charlie glanced over to see Sir Stuart’s condemning glare. He smiled serenely at the younger man.
Take that, sop
.

“What about sixty-five?” Annie asked, the impish grin still perched on her face.

“Sixty-five,” came Sir Stuart’s reply, a bit less confident this time.

Charlie kept his gaze trained on Frances. She looked a bit stunned but also miserable. He wanted to end the misery for her. But Stuart Walters was going to
lose
.

“Seventy-five,” Charlie said simply, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. He could feel Jordan’s questioning gaze and Tim and Michael’s startled ones, but he didn’t look at his brothers.

“What about—?” Annie called out.

“Eighty-five.” Stuart raised his chin and gave Charlie a challenging stare.

Frances gulped. Charlie saw her throat working. He didn’t want to prolong this for her.

“Two hundred and fifty pounds,” Charlie said simply, tugging on his cuff.

Every lady present gasped. Every gentleman sucked in his breath. Frances stepped shakily down from the books, looking as if the wind was knocked from her. Annie quickly reached for her hand to steady her.

All gazes flew to Sir Stuart. The man stood up, gave Charlie a disgusted look, and stomped from the room without a word.

“Two hundred and fifty pounds,” Annie murmured, her own enthusiasm obviously replaced by shock. “You win, Charlie.”

Charlie nodded, stood, and strode to the front of the room. “I’ll have a voucher sent round to the Society first thing in the morning,” he said to Annie before turning to Frances and offering his arm. “Miss Birmingham? A word?”

CHAPTER 20

Frances gulped. Her insides churned as if she would retch at any moment. Whatever had just happened had been completely … unexpected. Should she try to find Sir Stuart? Comfort him? Say something? What? She was supposed to be attempted to get him to kiss her tonight. To discover if they were suited.

She sucked in her breath. Oh, she might as well face it. She didn’t want to kiss Sir Stuart tonight. And dash it all, she wanted to hear what Charlie was about to say.

She wrapped her arm through Charlie’s and allowed him to escort her from the drawing room.

The cool air from the corridor washed over Frances’s face as soon as they exited the room, and she took a deep breath. It had been so hot in there. Hot and awkward. There was no sign of Sir Stuart in the corridor. Had he left the house already? Without saying good-bye?

Charlie led her across the foyer to the opposite salon. The room was empty and dark. She waited quietly while Charlie lit a brace of candles on a table in the center of the room. Then he turned to face her.

“That was…” She couldn’t think. “Unexpected.”

“I hope I didn’t embarrass you.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and smiled at her. “I didn’t mean to.”

Frances shook her head. “I fear Annie had a bit too much wine this evening to think another auction was a good idea.”

“On the contrary,” he replied. “She raised some more money for her favorite charity.”

Frances nodded. “I suppose that’s true.”

“My guess is that Sir Stuart is none too pleased with me,” Charlie said. “Not that I give a toss.”

Frances caught her breath. “Charlie … While I cannot say that I’m not flattered, I’m not exactly certain why you did that.”

“Frances, you cannot possibly truly mean to marry Sir Stuart.”

She wrinkled her brow. “What? Why not?”

“He’s a complete sop.”

“He’s been ever so kind to me and he’s—”

“A sop?”

She turned on him, anger filling her chest for the first time. She raked her nails across her opposite hand. “What is it you want, Charlie? Why did you humiliate Sir Stuart like that?”

Charlie clenched his fist. “I don’t want to see you make a mistake.”

“Oh, so now you’re my matchmaker?”

“Didn’t you ask me to be?”

Pain filled her chest, twisted in her. Charlie didn’t want her. She might have been infatuated with him, but she wasn’t his sort. Had he made that audacious bid on her so everyone would think he liked women? While she wouldn’t judge him, she refused to allow him to use her for appearances’ sake.