She gasped.
Charlie quickly straightened and turned to face her. “Miss Birmingham!”
Frances gulped. “I was … I was just looking for you, Mr. Holloway.”
Both men came hurrying around the furniture to help her to her feet.
“Are you quite all right, Miss Birmingham?” Lord Avery asked solicitously, offering his hand.
She allowed the older man to help her up, knowing her face must be bright red. “Yes. Yes, of course. I’m perfectly fine. I’ll just … I’ll speak with you another time, Mr. Holloway. My … my apologies for interrupting.”
Without waiting for either man to utter another word, she turned and nearly raced from the room.
* * *
“That was a bit … odd,” Avery said as soon as Frances had taken her leave.
“Yes. I’ve found Miss Birmingham to be quite … unique,” Charlie said, staring after the space she’d just inhabited, wondering exactly what she’d wanted to speak to him about..
“I was about to tell you how much I appreciate your help and guidance, Maxwell,” Charlie said.
The two men walked together to the door. “No need to thank me. I’m happy to oblige. Do let me know how you get on, Charlie,” Avery said. “I’ve every reason to believe you’ll be a fine tutor.”
“Thank you, my friend.” Charlie shook the other man’s hand and then strolled off in pursuit of Miss Birmingham.
CHAPTER 14
Charlie had never had a chance to speak with Frances last night. He’d returned to the ballroom after his meeting with Avery to find her gone. Annie informed him that she’d left immediately. Odd when she’d seemed so eager to speak with him only a few minutes earlier. Eager enough to seek him out and come tumbling through the door of the room he’d been in. Perhaps she was just embarrassed by her little mishap.
But two things still bothered him. First, he couldn’t seem to shake the memory of their kiss. And second, there was something about Frances that he just liked, damn him, her little episode in Avery’s study last night, notwithstanding. She never failed to surprise him. And he liked that about her. He liked it very much.
The image of Lady Harcourt came to mind. She’d wanted him to kiss her as well. Why that woman thought she was interested in him, he’d never know. Perhaps it was simply because she knew she couldn’t have him. Whatever the reason, he was not interested. She struck him as someone with a nasty disposition, and he’d never cared for unhappy people. Frances, on the other hand, was extremely happy. But that wasn’t all. Yes, she made him laugh, but she’d also made him hard. In fact, he’d had an awfully inappropriate dream about her last night. One he couldn’t shake the memory of this morning. He’d never had such uncontrollable thoughts about a woman.
Frances had wanted to speak to him about something last night; she’d said as much. Perhaps he’d seek her out today. Just to see how she was doing. Merely to ask what she had wanted last night. That was all.
CHAPTER 15
When the butler announced that Mr. Charles Holloway was in the foyer waiting to pay her a call, Frances could have been knocked over by a puff of air.
“By all means, show him in,” she said, righting her skirts and smoothing a finger over her brow. Oh, I’m being ridiculous. Primping myself.
If she’d learned anything last night after her confounding turn at eavesdropping and tumble into Lord Avery’s study, it was that her suspicions were right. Clearly Charlie preferred the company of men. She’d been certain he’d been about to kiss Lord Avery or at least do something inappropriate. They’d been talking about secrets and counting on each other, hadn’t they?
Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts. It wasn’t just that. There were other things too. Like that night on the balcony at the Wilmingtons’ ball. Now that she thought on it, when she’d asked Charlie about Lady Lenora being beautiful that night, he’d answered, “Only if you like that sort of thing,” didn’t he? Of course at the time she hadn’t thought much of it. He’d gone on to tell her she was beautiful, in fact. But, looking back, knowing what she now knew, it was quite incriminating. Those two things, coupled with Annie’s suggestion that Charlie didn’t like women and Lady Lenora’s rumors, and Frances was quite convinced.
So why was Charlie here? The man wasn’t interested in her and wasn’t going to be. But she couldn’t help wanting to look her best in front of him. Silly, perhaps, but true. Maybe he’d come to talk about Annie and Lord Ashbourne’s wedding.
When Charlie entered the room, Frances couldn’t help feeling the tug of attraction. The butterflies scattered in her stomach too, those confounded insects. Attracted to a man who didn’t prefer women. She had seriously gone mad. She shook off the unhelpful thought and concentrated on pinning a bright smile to her face, watching as Charlie made his way over to the settee to bow over her hand.
“Miss Birmingham,” he said. “So good to see you.”
She gestured to the chair to her right. “Please, Mr. Holloway, have a seat.”
Charlie sat and Frances sat up straight and blinked at him. Her gaze roved over his high cheekbones, wavy dark hair, and the oh-so-irresistible cleft in his chin. He was too good-looking by half. It was really too bad. “Care for some tea, Mr. Holloway?”
Charlie leaned toward her. “No. Thank you. I came to … That is to say I … I wanted to see how you were doing. After last night, I mean …”
“Right as rain, I assure you,” she replied in an animated voice.
Her chest ached. She understood now why he’d come. He knew she’d seen him with Lord Avery and he wanted to make certain she wasn’t shocked, or offended, or worse, intending to tell anyone. He needn’t worry. She might not have wished things to happen this way, but she wasn’t about to be judgmental. It was absolutely none of her affair what—ahem—pursuits Mr. Holloway preferred, and she had no intention of acting like a vengeful scorned woman. Lady Harcourt might be spreading vicious rumors, but Frances would never do that, even if Mr. Holloway weren’t her closest friend’s future brother-in-law.
“Please do not worry, Mr. Holloway. There’s nothing I saw that I intend to repeat in mixed company or otherwise.” She nodded, giving him a reassuring smile.
His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. “Nothing you saw?”
She smiled at him. “Absolutely nothing.”
His brow remained furrowed. “Very … well.”
“And I don’t want you to think for one moment that I hold any ill will toward you.”
His lips were pursed now and he was staring at her strangely. “Ill will?”
“None whatsoever. While it’s clear that there can never be more between us, there’s absolutely no reason we cannot be fast friends.”
“Fast friends?” he echoed, his eyes widening. “Frances, are you saying you think of me as only … a… friend?”
Frances gave him a bright smile and nodded. “I don’t see why we cannot be. It stands to reason. We’re certain to see each other quite a bit what with Annie and your brother marrying.”
Charlie nodded slowly. “Yes. That’s true.”
She braced her hands on her knees. “Perhaps you can give me advice on matters such as whom to dance with and whom to receive as a caller. I am looking to marry, after all.”
Both of his brows shot up. “You want me to give you advice? About gentleman callers?”
“Why not? You know quite a few of the gentlemen of the ton, do you not? What do you think of Sir Stuart Walters for instance?”
“Sir Stuart Walters?” His eyes remained wide.
“Yes.” Frances was determined to come through this conversation with a new, close friend.
Charlie scrubbed his hands across his face. Had she surprised him with her willingness to let bygones be bygones? He couldn’t change who he was, after all, and she would be the veriest fool to attempt to get him to do so. No. The practical side of her had already decided that lemonade was to be made with these lemons.
She took a deep
breath. She might be about to tell a little white lie but it was for the best. She would spare Charlie an awkward conversation. “That’s what I wanted to speak with you about last night, actually,” she said. “I was hoping you might give me some advice on how to bring Sir Stuart to scratch.”
CHAPTER 16
Charlie nearly ripped his coat and hat from the hapless butler’s arms. He shoved his arms through the sleeves of his coat and pushed his hat atop his head before making his way out into the cold, muddy street in front of Frances’s town house.
Friends?
Had he heard her right or had Frances Birmingham just told him in no uncertain terms that she wanted nothing more to do with him than being bloody friends?
This from a young woman who’d chased him about half of last week seeking a kiss. Now she wanted to be friends? It was downright embarrassing. Clearly the kiss they’d shared hadn’t affected her one bit. She’d been asking him to see if they were compatible, and it turned out, she’d felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. While he’d been feverishly unable to strike the memory of their kiss from his mind, Frances had clearly crossed him off her list and moved on to the next bloke.
Sir Stuart Walters to be precise.
And here, like a fool, Charlie had been convinced she was pining for him. She wasn’t pining at all. She’d been waiting to let him down gently. Capital.
Good God. It was too much. And now he’d have to face her again soon at Jordan’s engagement party, not to mention the wedding itself.
Charlie strode to his carriage, hefted himself inside, and slammed the door shut. He was a bloody fool, chasing around a young, unmarried female. What had made him come visit her today? He hadn’t seen her at the Kidwells’ rout and he’d … bloody hell, he’d missed her. He’d wanted to spend time in her company it seemed. He couldn’t forget that kiss. And now here he was completely set back on his heels by a slip of a girl gently informing him that she wanted nothing more to do with him than friendship.
Bah. Friendship.
He crossed his arms roughly over his chest. Very well. If friendship was what she wanted, friendship was what she’d get. He’d bloody well been fine before Frances Birmingham had bid on him at the bachelor auction, and he’d be perfectly fine again.
But he was unaccustomed to being the one who was rejected. He was usually the one letting a lady down as gently as possible. Like his unfortunate interlude with Lady Harcourt the other evening. Now the tables were entirely turned, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
How was it possible that Frances didn’t want him? It couldn’t have been the kiss itself. Very well. Perhaps that thought was a bit arrogant, but he’d never been in this situation before. It made him question everything he knew. He’d never had any complaints about his kissing, just the opposite, actually.
Fine. Perfect. Capital.
He was a grown man and would not react like a child who didn’t get his favorite toy. He would be perfectly adult about this. He and Miss Birmingham would be in each other’s company enough since his brother was marrying her closest friend. Charlie might as well get on with the business of befriending her. If that’s what she wanted, that’s what she would get. No trouble at all.
But he might just take another opportunity to tempt her with his kiss.
CHAPTER 17
Three days later, Charlie was no closer to being friendly with the elusive Miss Birmingham than he had been last week. It was maddening, really. He’d made a very gentlemanly gesture and escorted her to the Hadleys’ Venetian breakfast. They’d discussed politics, art, travel. She’d made him laugh by telling him stories about her incorrigible cat.
Over the last few days, he’d come to the conclusion that Frances was a one-of-a-kind sort of girl. She was witty, charming, funny, and self-effacing. She was sweet but didn’t brook impertinence. She was loyal but not to the point of foolishness. She was selfless with a healthy dose of practicality that drew Charlie in a way he didn’t care to examine.
And most frustrating of all, she continued to keep her distance. She treated him like a … friend. A bloody boring friend. He’d tried to get her alone a time or two in an attempt to kiss her and change her mind. He could be downright seductive if he set his mind to it. But each time he’d even so much as suggested they spend a moment or two alone, she’d changed the subject or gone off to speak with someone else or just given him a … friendly … smile. It was maddening, actually. Crazy-making. And Charlie was quite through with it.
To make matters worse, she’d been spending quite a lot of time with Sir Stuart, that sop. Tonight Charlie had met Frances at the Ambersleys’ ball, and he intended to confront her about the entire affair.
He stalked over to where Frances stood. She was laughing with a group of people, including the odious Sir Stuart. She wore a simple butter-colored gown that brought out the shining golden highlights of her hair. “Miss Birmingham, might I have a moment of your time?”
She looked up, the pretty blue of her eyes clouding with confusion. “Wh … why, certainly, Mr. Holloway.” She must have seen the intense look on his face. She didn’t question him. Instead, she excused herself to the little group and gathered her skirts in her hand to allow Charlie to lead her away. He gave Sir Stuart a smug smile.
Charlie led Frances out into the corridor and down to the end of the hallway where a giant palm provided a measure of privacy. “Wherever are we going?” Frances asked, as she followed him to the shadowy corner.
“Where we can speak privately,” Charlie answered.
Once they were hidden behind the palm, he spun her away and turned to face her, shoving his hands in his pockets. He took a deep breath. “Look, Frances, I know of no other way to say this without just coming out and saying it.”
She nodded, confusion still darkening her eyes to midnight-blue. “Yes?”
Damn it. He turned away from her, paced back and forth, then turned to face her again. “Did you or did you not enjoy our”—he lowered his voice, despite the fact that they were quite alone in the corridor—“kiss?”
Frances’s hand flew to her throat. “Why, I … Yes, I did.”
He had to smile at her forthrightness. She might have slapped him for being such a cad, but instead she’d just answered the question. Honestly, he hoped. He couldn’t help the little smile of masculine pride that spread on his lips. “Good.”
“I liked it very much,” she continued. “And I suppose I’ve never thanked you for it.”
Charlie’s head snapped up. “Thanked me?”
“Yes, I’m certain it must have been quite a chore for you but it was, well, it was truly romantic and wonderful, just as I hoped. And now that I’ve had such a romantic kiss, I find I am quite able to move on and—”
“Move on?”
“Yes. I’m certain you’ve noticed my interest in Sir Stuart. He’s Mama’s first choice.”
“Sir Stuart? You must be jesting. You’re far too good for him.”
She laughed. “Now I believe you are jesting. Sir Stuart may not be as good-looking as your family, but the truth is, I’m not beautiful like Annie and Lily.”
Charlie paced again. He wanted to hit something. Sir Stuart Walters was a complete milksop. But how could Charlie say or do anything about it? It wasn’t as if he were prepared to declare himself. No. Nothing like that.
He didn’t even know now why exactly he’d dragged her out here. He’d just been so bloody frustrated by her intent to relegate him to the role of friend, and now here she was, looking beautiful and driving him mad with her intoxicating sweet scent. And she was informing him that she had intentions on Sir Stuart Walters instead of him. Capital.
“I’m sorry I never thanked you properly before,” Frances added. “But I do hope you’ll put in a good word for me with Sir Stuart.” Then she giggled. “Well, not about … that.”
Charlie summoned a wan smile. “No. Of course not.”
“You won’t mind if I get back to the ballroom, will you, Charlie?�
� she asked. “I believe Sir Stuart was just about to ask me to dance.” She gave him a conspiratorial grin and Charlie felt as if he’d been punched in the gut.
“By all means,” he replied.
She turned to go.
“Frances,” he called, not even certain what he was going to say before he said it.
She turned back to face him, her lips parted, one curl poised fetchingly above her eye brushing the rim of her spectacles. She looked breathtakingly lovely. “Yes?”
“I just wanted you to know that I quite liked it, too … our kiss, I mean.”
She bobbed her head. “Thank you very much. I must admit, I quite hope Sir Stuart is half as good a kisser as you.”
She raced away and Charlie watched her go. Sir Stuart Walters? Her mama’s first choice? How could that be? And how could she think she was on a par with Sir Stuart? Frances may not have the classical good looks of her friends, but there was something about her bright blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. Her spectacles. Something about her spirit. More than anything, it was her obvious zest for life and penchant for silliness. Over the last few days, he’d learned she hummed for no reason, sang with no provocation, and danced at every opportunity. Frances might not be one to turn heads with her looks alone, but when coupled with her charm, she was downright enchanting. Not to mention that kiss she’d given him; he’d felt it all the way down to his … toes. She was certainly far too lovely and unique to waste herself on the likes of Sir Stuart Walters. The man might be a knight, but still.
Charlie glanced around. He’d dragged her out here and ended up saying absolutely nothing. What was there to say? What could he say? Her heart was set on Sir Stuart. Charlie wanted to snap the bloody palm tree in half.
Damn it. Now he was jealous.
CHAPTER 18
Frances drew her fingertip along the windowpane, tracing the pattern of the raindrops slowly sliding down the glass. She sighed.
A Secret Affair Page 6