A Secret Affair Read online

  Frances’s eyes nearly popped from her skull. She choked on her sip of tea. Placing the delicate china cup on the table next to her, she gave her head a hard shake. “Pardon? Did you just say that we might be married before Christmastide?”

  “Yes, of course. If everything goes according to plan, that is,” Annie continued.

  Frances pressed her hands to her knees. “You sound as if it’s all a foregone conclusion. Who is to say whether Mr. Holloway and I will even get on?”

  Annie blinked rapidly. “Whatever do you mean? I thought you fancied him.”

  Frances allowed the hint of a smile to touch her lips. “Oh, but I do. Very much so. He’s ever so handsome and charming and has been nothing but polite to me. But Annie, I barely know him.”

  The look of complete surprise on Annie’s face made Frances’s smile widen. “Frances, don’t you believe in love at first sight?”

  Frances shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t. I’m quite keen on Mr. Holloway. That much is true, but for all I know, we have nothing in common. That’s why I wanted to win the auction, Annie. To spend time with him. To get to know him a bit better. See if we suit. I’m not about to declare myself in love with him just because of his oh-so-handsome face.”

  A vision of that oh-so-handsome face flashed through Frances’s memory. Charlie Holloway had the same rugged good looks as his older brother, but instead of Lord Ashbourne’s grey eyes, Charlie’s were deep dark brown. He was tall and broad-shouldered with slightly curly dark brown hair, dark slashes for brows, high cheekbones, and lovely long eyelashes. Finish that off with an ever-so-intriguing cleft in his strong chin and the man was an absolute statue come to life.

  “Well, I know him, and Charlie is just perfect, besides being oh-so-handsome, I assure you,” Annie added.

  Frances’s thoughts snapped back to the conversation. “While you are a bit biased because he is soon to be your brother-in-law, I am certain he is a good man. I just need to know if he’s the right man for me.”

  Annie took a sip of tea. “Oh, Frances, you’re so practical. That’s what I adore about you. Smart, honest, and practical to a fault.”

  Frances snorted. “Practical, perhaps. But the fact is I don’t have a drop of coyness in me. That’s why I ended up coming forward and bidding one-hundred-fifty pounds. I was tired of hiding behind that blasted wall. Instead, I ended up looking like a complete madwoman.”

  “No. Not at all. There’s something to be said for forthrightness,” Annie offered.

  “No, there’s not, not as far as the ladies of the ton are concerned. I’m a complete mess. I cannot help myself. I don’t like to pretend. I like to get things out in the open, say what I mean. I’ve just never seen the point in wasting time not being clear.” She sighed. “Much to my mother’s eternal regret.”

  “Nonsense, your Mama is quite proud of you, Frances.”

  Frances wrinkled her nose. “You didn’t hear her telling Papa this morning that she’d never live down the shame of me stomping up to the dais like that.”

  “She’s just concerned for your reputation. But nearly every young, unmarried female in town was there. There will be no harm. She’ll love Charlie too when she chaperones you to the ball tomorrow night. You’ll see.”

  Frances pressed her palm against her cheek. “Yes, well, as to that. You’ll have to coach me on what to say.”

  Annie’s brow furrowed. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “I’m not charming like you, Annie. I say the first thing that rushes from my mouth. I’ll make a complete cake of myself, I’m certain of it.”

  “No, of course you won’t. You’ll be your usual lovely self, and Charlie will fall head over heels.”

  “I’m hardly charming. Half of the time at balls and other Society events, I’m listening in to see how other ladies comport themselves. Mama hates it when I eavesdrop, but I cannot help myself. Everyone else seems to know how to act. I have no idea how to flirt, for instance.”

  Annie laughed softly. “Why, it’s simple. There’s nothing to it, really.”

  “Show me,” Frances pleaded, moving forward in her seat. “Teach me how to flirt.”

  Annie tapped her finger against her cheek, then she turned to face her friend. “Very well. You pretend to be Charlie, and I’ll pretend to be you.”

  Frances nodded eagerly. “Excellent.” She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “Good evening, Miss Birmingham, a pleasure to see you.”

  Annie’s eyelashes fluttered. “Why, Mr. Holloway, the pleasure is mine.”

  “I, er, you look lovely this evening.” Frances’s voice remained low.

  Annie turned her head and pressed her chin to her shoulder, looking over at Frances with a coquettish smile. “And you, Mr. Holloway, look ever so handsome in your evening coat. I daresay I’ve never been so envious of fabric.”

  Frances nearly shot out of her chair. “I cannot say that!”

  Annie laughed and shrugged. “Whyever not? You just said you don’t like to be coy, and there’s no reason to be as far as I’m concerned. Be yourself, Frances. He’s sure to love you. Besides you want to stand out from your competition, do you not? I’ve no doubt Lady Harcourt has said worse.”

  Frances rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Lady Lenora. Now there’s a woman who is gorgeous and perfectly adept at flirting. I haven’t a prayer of competing with that.”

  Annie plunked her fist against her hip. “Nonsense. Lady Harcourt is beautiful, but she’s got none of your pluck, nor your intelligence or wit. Besides,” Annie added with a smile, “you could always challenge her to a duel if the need arose.”

  Frances threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, Annie. You do make me laugh. And you’re right. I’ve no doubt I could best Lady Lenora in a duel. It’s a shame we’re not allowed to handle such matters the way the men do.”

  Annie laughed too. “I agree. As I’m certain had I challenged Jordan’s former mistress to a duel, I would have handily defeated her.” She clapped her hands. “Now, let’s try another round of pretending you’re Charlie and I’m you. We’ll get it right yet.”

  Frances nodded. “Very well. But remember, I’m only spending the evening with him to see how we two get on. It all may be for naught.”

  Annie patted her friend’s shoulder. “Yes, well, absolutely. Remember, you’ll know when you feel butterflies winging through your stomach. That’s how I knew with Jordan.”

  Frances raised both brows. “Butterflies?”

  Annie sighed. “Yes. Butterflies. Now, let’s get to work. And after tomorrow night, when you clearly adore each other, we shall plan your wedding.”

  Frances gave Annie an exasperated look. Oh, she had a plan all right, but she didn’t wish to discuss it yet. Not even with Annie.

  CHAPTER 4

  Charlie put the finishing touches on his cravat and spared one last glance at himself in the looking glass. Ah, he’d do. He was presentable. But he needed to be more than presentable after being won in an auction for a bloody fortune. Come to think of it, he’d best be charming too. Exceedingly so. One-hundred-fifty pounds worth of charming, in fact.

  He shook his head. He still couldn’t believe it. Frances Birmingham had certainly surprised him with her deep pockets and her determination. If he were being honest, the few times Annie had introduced him to the girl, he’d barely noticed her. Oh, Jordan had mentioned something a time or two about Miss Birmingham, and Annie had put the young woman in his path on more than one occasion, but he hadn’t considered it much.

  He met a great many people at parties, and now that Jordan had come to his senses and become engaged, Charlie was feeling much more free these days. Free to take his time looking for a bride if he ever indeed took one. There was much less pressure. He’d soon have to move out of Jordan’s London town house. It would no longer be a bachelor residence, but it was high time Charlie purchased his own property. Yes, Charlie had only just begun to enjoy his freedom. He had plans. Plans that would no doubt shock his broth
ers. But he’d deal with that later.

  No, Miss Birmingham hadn’t been in his thoughts before, but tonight she was indeed. Just what did the girl expect of him in return for her one-hundred-fifty pounds? Charming conversation and a dance or two? Well, he was a gentleman, and he would see to it that she enjoyed herself. He’d already ordered the horses put to, and he’d be off in his coach to escort her and her mother to the ball.

  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 pocketbo
ok 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.