Free A Secret Affair by Valerie Bowman Page A

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