A Secret Affair Read Online Free PDF Page A

indeed.”
    “And I find I’m having quite an enjoyable time with you.” Had he just winked at her? Good thing she was not a swooner.
    A movement of the dance separated them momentarily, reminding Frances they’d scarcely had a chance to get to know each another. She must rectify the situation immediately. After all, the night wasn’t getting any younger. If she intended to discover whether she and Mr. Holloway suited, she must begin asking the necessary questions.
    As soon as she was back in his arms, she asked, “Tell me, Mr. Holloway, what are your politics?”
    He arched a brow. “My politics?”
    “Yes.”
    “I’m a Whig, Miss Birmingham. What are yours?”
    Well, wasn’t it lovely of him to ask? How many men of her acquaintance would simply assume a woman had no political opinions to speak of? “Papa is a Tory,” she admitted, biting her lip. “But I must say, I consider my own sympathies to lie with the Whigs as well.”
    Mr. Holloway inclined his head and appeared to be studying her quite intently. “Is that so?”
    “The Corn Laws seem quite short-sighted if you ask me,” she added.
    He was staring at her as if she’d transformed into a turnip. Perhaps she’d startled him with her frank talk of politics. But she had a great many political theories, and if Mr. Holloway disliked that in a female, then they clearly would not suit. Better to know now.
    “I, too, disagree with the Importation Act,” he replied, giving her something akin to an admiring smile.
    “And what is your opinion of the Luddites?” she asked.
    “As short-sighted as the Corn Laws, I’m afraid,” he replied.
    “See, that’s what I tried to tell Papa. But he says machinery and factories will be the death of the country.” She sighed.
    “I don’t see how we can progress without investing in the ideas and machinery of the future,” Mr. Holloway replied.
    Frances nodded. So, they agreed. Very good. But there was more to suitability than politics.
    “Tell me. Which is your favorite of Shakespeare’s plays?” she asked, eyeing him carefully.
    “Which is yours?” he countered with a grin that made those butterflies swirl through her belly.
    “I asked first,” she countered.
    “So you did. Let’s see.” He twirled her around and around. “I’ve always been a bit partial to A Midsummer Night’s Dream .”
    Frances pursed her lips. “Really?”
    “Does that surprise you?”
    “I think it says quite a lot. That’s why I asked. A man who prefers fantasy over something gruesome and tragic.”
    “Ah, so you expected me to pick Hamlet or Richard the Third ?”
    She considered him for a moment. “To be honest, I expected you to pick Henry the Fifth .”
    He shook his head. “A noble king to be sure, but no, not my favorite. Now, I told you mine. You tell me, which is your favorite?”
    “Ah, I’m solidly a devotee of All’s Well That Ends Well .”
    His mouth quirked. “An optimist, are you?”
    “Always.” She gave him a big smile.
    “Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve always been a bit of an optimist myself,” he replied, giving her another wink that nearly made her stumble.
    Frances took a deep breath, concentrating on the dance, and reminding herself to remain true to her task. “What are your thoughts on cats, Mr. Holloway?”
    He furrowed his brow. “Cats? Did you say ‘cats’?”
    “Yes, the household pet.”
    She could tell he was fighting his smile. “I’m aware of what a cat is, Miss Birmingham. But I honestly cannot claim I have much of an opinion on them.”
    She wrinkled her nose. “What if a cat, who was quite mangy and hungry, mind, happened upon your doorstep?”
    He appeared to consider it for a moment. “I’d look about for his owner.”
    “What if he had no owner? What if he were quite alone in the world? Oh, and what if it were quite cold outside as well?” She eyed him carefully.
    “Mangy and hungry, you say? No owner? And it’s cold?”
    She nodded resolutely.