“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 h
ad 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.
CHAPTER 12
Eavesdropping was never a good idea. How many times had Mama told her that? But now that Frances was hidden in the antechamber of the ladies’ retiring room at the Averys’ ball, with Lady Lenora Harcourt and her friends chattering outside, Frances couldn’t help but listen, could she? Certainly not after she’d heard Lady Lenora say Charlie’s name.
Frances pressed a hand down the front of her embroidered sky-blue ball gown, willing her breathing to normal. She’d stepped into the other room to look for a bit of thread with which to fix a small split in her seam. It would only take a moment. But she’d become trapped when Lady Lenora and her friends had entered the retiring room. Now, Frances hovered in the darkness of the antechamber, biting her lip and straining for all she was worth to hear what they were saying.
“Mr. Holloway didn’t do anything?” one of the other ladies asked.
“Absolutely nothing,” came Lady Lenora’s silky reply. The lady’s voice, like the rest of her, was a bit too brash for Frances’s taste. “I was standing there on my tiptoes kissing him and he didn’t move at all.”
Frances gasped, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand, hoping the other women hadn’t heard her.
“What did you do then?” came the second friend’s voice.
“What could I do?” Lady Lenora replied.
Oh, good. Frances breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently, they hadn’t heard her. She’d just have to be more careful. But she had to hear more. Lady Lenora was admitting to kissing Charlie? Actually admitting it, sounding proud even? Why that little strumpet was incorrigible.
“I can hardly credit the notion,” friend one said.
“He pushed me away,” Lady Lenora added, disbelief dripping from her tone. “Pushed me.”
“Shocking,” friend two replied.
Frances sucked in her breath. What was shocking was Lady Lenora admitting her outlandish behavior to her friends. Why, the woman was downright fast! How dare she kiss Charlie and— Very well, Frances has kissed him too, but she at least had the decency to ask him to kiss her, hadn’t just jumped up on tiptoes and done it herself. How dare that widow!
“I’m telling you,” Lady Lenora continued, and Frances suspended her judgmental thoughts in order to hear more. “I’m quite convinced the man isn’t interested in ladies at all.”
Friend one and friend two laughed.
Frances scowled. Wasn’t it just like Lady Lenora to assume that a man who didn’t want her, didn’t want any woman? Why, the kiss Charlie had given Frances nearly singed the hair from her brow. She pressed her gloved fingers to her lips to stifle her laugh. Oh, wouldn’t it be delicious to waltz from the antechamber and inform Lady Lenora of just that much? It would wipe the ever-present smug look off the woman’s face if nothing else.
But in the back of her mind, Frances couldn’t shake the memory of what Annie had said the other day. And Lady Harcourt was an undisputed beauty. If Charlie didn’t find her desirable, well, there just might be something different about him. Could it be that he’d only kissed Frances to humor her? She had asked him after all. Kept after him. Perhaps he’d only done it to silence her once and for all.
And hadn’t he simultaneously made it clear that he had no interest in her by informing her that he had no intention of settling down? If that didn’t prove that he didn’t want to repeat the experience, nothing did. Oh, perhaps he’d only kissed her to try to keep the suspicion of not liking women from his door. The thought made her physically ill.
The shrill laughter of the ladies in the retiring room snapped Frances from her thoughts. She held her breath until she heard them leave and then she hurried from the antechamber into the main room. She stared at herself in the looking glass, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her cheeks flushed. Was it possible that Charlie Holloway didn’t prefer women?
CHAPTER 13
Frances raced into the ballroom, frantically searching for Annie. When she spotted her friend alone near the refreshment table, she hastened to her side, dodging poor Sir Stuart who asked her to dance.
“Oh Frances, there you are.�
� Annie’s face fell when she saw what must have been the frightful look on Frances’s face. “What is it?”
“Have you seen Charlie?” Frances asked in a rush.
“Yes. He was just here. I believe he went with Lord Avery to his study.”
Right. Frances would just go wait for him. She had to ask him. Awkward as it might be, she had to know the truth. “I’ll be back soon,” she assured Annie, hurrying off before her friend had a chance to ask any questions.
Frances waited in the corridor outside Lord Avery’s study for several minutes before she decided to put her ear to the door. Once again, her mother’s admonishment not to eavesdrop rang in her ears. But in this case it was only expedient. She might get a better idea of how much longer the two men would be if she could hear a bit of their conversation. If it seemed it would be quite a while, she’d have to seek out Charlie another evening.
She sidled up to the door and pressed her ear to the wood.
“I cannot say I’m not surprised.” The voice was not Charlie’s. It must have been Lord Avery. “And you’re quite certain about this?”
“Never been more certain,” Charlie replied.
Frances bit her lip. Certain about what?
“Then I wish you well. You know you can always count on me. And rest assured I will keep this matter entirely private, between the two of us.”
Count on Lord Avery for what? Keep what matter private?
“Thank you, Maxwell,” Charlie said. “There’s just one more thing.”
One more thing? What?
Frances leaned heavily against the door hoping beyond hope to hear what they were saying or guess what they were doing. With her full weight against it, the door clicked open and she tumbled inside. She sprawled in an ignominious heap upon the Aubusson rug in Lord Avery’s study.
She pushed herself up on both hands and glanced at the other occupants of the room. Lord Avery and Charlie were standing close together. It looked as if Charlie had bent down to whisper something in his friend’s ear. Or … she rubbed her eyes. Had he been about to kiss him?
A Secret Affair Page 5
