“Good morning, my lady,” he replied. Blast. He’d meant to bring her shawl. He’d taken it upstairs with him last night, intent upon bringing it with him this morning so he wouldn’t forget to give it to her. But he’d been distracted earlier, firing off a note to Sir Reginald, asking the knight to meet him in one of the drawing rooms tomorrow afternoon. He’d sent the note along with one of the other footmen to deliver to Sir Reginald and left Frances’s shawl lying on the desk in his bedchamber. Lucas would just have to bring it tomorrow.
He quickly completed his normal chore of loading up the fire before sauntering over to the table where Frances sat. He peered over her shoulder. “What are you reading?”
“Today, it’s Shakespeare,” she replied, closing the book so he could see the title. “Did you know I got the idea to act like a shrew in front of Sir Reginald by reading Shakespeare?” she finished with a laugh.
“The Taming of the Shrew?” he asked, then immediately wanted to kick himself for making a literary reference. Would Frances wonder how a footman knew Shakespeare?
She didn’t seem to think anything about it, however, when she replied, “The very one.”
He glanced at her. A small red welt had formed on her cheek near her ear. “What happened to you?”
She self-consciously rubbed at the welt. “Oh, it’s nothing. A mishap with a curling utensil.”
“I see,” Lucas replied. “Well, your hair style looks lovely despite the mishap.”
She blushed as he lowered himself into the chair next to her and asked, “How was your conversation at dinner last night?”
Just as Frances had predicted, she’d been seated next to Sir Reginald at the dinner table the previous evening. Lucas had heard a great many references to the Prince Regent’s future visit coming from the knight’s oversized mouth. Otherwise, the meal had been quiet, and yet again, no one had recognized Lucas.
Frances rolled her eyes. “Sir Reginald went on and on about the prince’s imminent arrival.”
“Yes, I heard the prince is coming on Monday,” Lucas replied.
Frances nodded. “Not soon enough for Sir Reginald, I assure you.”
Lucas laughed. “Do you expect the dinner conversation to worsen after the prince’s arrival?”
She shrugged. “I cannot see how it will improve. As I said, there’s nothing more boring than dinner conversation at a ton event. Absolutely no one wants to talk about what I want to talk about and the few people who do aren’t at this particular party.”
Lucas leaned one elbow on the tabletop, eyeing her intently. “What is it that you’d like to talk about, my lady?”
Frances opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it.
“What?” he prodded. “You were about to say something. What was it?”
She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “May I tell you a secret, Mr. Lucas?”
He nodded. “Of course, but why the secrecy?”
Frances’s gaze darted back and forth, and an adorable smile popped to her lips. “Because I’m not supposed to be talking about this at Lord Clayton’s house party. I promised my mother.”
“Talk about what?” Lucas prodded, on tenterhooks waiting to hear what she said next.
Frances appeared to contemplate the matter for a few more moments before a wide smile spread across her face. “Wait a moment.” She blinked several times. “I promised Mama I wouldn’t speak about politics or the poor laws to any gentlemen at this party. I never promised Mama I wouldn’t speak about it with a footman.”
“Speak about what with a footman?” Lucas replied, his eyes narrowing.
Her smile widened. “You asked what I liked to talk about, Mr. Lucas. The answer is politics. And I’m perfectly able to keep my promise to my mother and discuss both politics and the bill with you.” She clapped her hands together. “Oh, I knew I liked you since the moment you first helped me avoid Sir Reginald,” she declared before promptly blushing again.
“Wait. You’re interested in politics?” he asked, furrowing his brow.
“Yes, politics, laws. Decisions that are being made that affect everyone. Things that really matter in this country. Unlike hair bows.” She punctuated her speech by pounding one fist atop the table.
He rested his chin on one propped-up hand, fascinated by this discovery about her. He’d never heard her speak so emphatically. “‘Things that really matter’ such as?” he prompted.
“Such as the Employment Bill for one thing.” A frown covered her face.
Lucas’s brows shot up. “The Employment Bill?”
“Yes, did you know there is a bill that will be voted on by the House of Lords when they return to Parliament this autumn? A very important law.”
Lucas expelled his breath. How much did he dare reveal to her about his knowledge of the law? He chose his words carefully. “I believe you mentioned that before. What do you know about it, Miss Wharton?”
She eyed him up and down, pursing her lips. “Spoken like a true male, Mr. Lucas.”
He chuckled. “My apologies, my lady, it’s just that I haven’t known many women who were interested in such things.”
She tucked a curl behind her ear and crossed her arms over her chest. “And I haven’t known many footmen who were either, so I suppose we’re both guilty of being surprised for no reason.”
“Fair enough.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “But I’m curious. Tell me. Are you for or against the law, my lady?”
She shuddered, closing her eyes briefly. “Against it, Mr. Lucas, completely, entirely, unequivocally against it. As you should be!”
His dropped his chin to his chest and scratched the back of his neck. “Is that so?” Blast. Blast. Blast. Damn and blast. She wasn’t just against it. No, she had to be ‘completely, entirely, unequivocally’ against it.
“Yes.” She nodded vigorously. “Frankly, I don’t see how anyone with a heart beating in his chest could be for it. In fact, I came in here to look up the history of such laws. I’ve every intention of researching the history of similar laws in order to sway more of the vote against it.” She turned in her seat to face the enormous collection of books. “I’ve simply no idea where to begin.”
“First, tell me what you don’t like about the law,” he prodded.
“Well, for one thing it gives more rights to the noblemen running large estates, and less to the poor tenants and farmers. It puts more money in the pockets of men who are already quite wealthy. It does nothing for servants and the working class but give them even fewer options to find work without references from what may well have been awful employers.”
Lucas swallowed. All of those things were true when looked at from a certain point of view, but he saw each of those issues in a completely different light. “Is there anything you like about the law?” he asked tentatively.
She tapped her fingertips along the tabletop for a few moments before saying, “Honestly, the only good it does is repeal of some of the harshest conditions of the trade acts.”
The Trade Laws were archaic laws that gave the working class almost no rights. The repeal of the worst parts of the trade acts was one of Lucas’s favorite parts of his brother’s bill. At least he and Miss Wharton could agree on that.
Lucas stood. “Follow me,” he said, starting toward the opposite side of the room. “I know where the law tomes are.”
“You do?” Her voice held a note of surprise.
Damn it. He hadn’t stopped to consider that it might seem odd that a footman knew where certain books were in his master’s huge library. He thought it best to change the subject. “May I ask how you intend to sway the vote?”
Frances continued to follow him. Her voice was tinged with resolution when she said, “I may be a mere female, Mr. Lucas, but I am often in the company of the men who make such decisions and it would be derelict of me not to use my time in their presence to attempt to influence their votes.”
Lucas remained silent as he made his
way to a small nook in the wall hidden from view from the rest of the library. He stepped inside, and she followed him.
“My goodness,” she exclaimed, spinning in a small circle and smiling. “I hadn’t realized this alcove was here.”
Lucas pointed up. The books of law were stacked to the ceiling on both levels of the room.
Her gaze followed his finger and she smiled. “Oh, Mr. Lucas, thank you. I never would have found these if you hadn’t shown me.” She hesitated a moment before narrowing her eyes again. “I do hope you don’t mind my asking, how did you know these were here?”
He glanced away and scratched at his temple. The blasted powdered wig made his head itch. He needed to think more before he did certain things. But being in her company made him carefree (or careless, more like). Thankfully, he’d already invented his answer on the walk over. “I spend a lot of time in this room. I like to read. Lord Clayton doesn’t mind as long as my chores are finished.”
“A footman who likes to read?” As soon as the last word left her lips, she clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my goodness. I’m terribly sorry. That was hideous of me,” she mumbled behind her fingers.
Lucas shook his head. “Please, no apologies, my lady.” He could only hope her guilt would keep her from asking more questions.
“It’s just that…” she continued. “Oh, I do hope I don’t insult you, but…I have noticed your speech is quite cultured and I wondered how . . .”
Lucas leaned a hand against the solid wooden frame of the nearest bookshelf. “How I’m a footman if I’m educated enough to speak this way and read law tomes?”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “When you put it that way it does sound awful. I’m terribly sorry. I beg your pardon.”
“No, don’t be sorry,” he replied. “Let’s just say my family and Clayton’s family have long been friendly. He did me quite a favor by employing me as a footman, however.” There. That was true, yet vague. The perfect answer.
“Of course,” Frances said. “I feel foolish for asking you to explain.”
“Think nothing of it my lady, truly.” He could hardly blame her for saying something rude to him when he was merely pretending to be a footman. As far as he was concerned, he was guilty too. Once again, he decided changing the subject was probably the best thing to do.
“Well, here they are.” He splayed his open palms toward the books. “May I help you find any one in particular?”
“No. I shouldn’t keep you any longer. I’m quite happy to poke about until I find the one I need.”
“Very well.” Lucas watched her. She seemed to want to say something else, but she’d hesitated.
“May I ask you something, Mr. Lucas?” she finally ventured.
He nodded. “Of course.”
“Have you met my maid…Albina? Downstairs perhaps?”
Lucas bit his lip while he contemplated the question. He’d met many servants downstairs, both those who were employed by Clayton and those employed by the guests, but he didn’t seem to recall the name Albina. “I don’t believe so. Why?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Frances shook her head and waved her hand in the air dismissing it. “Nevermind. Wait. I do have one more question.”
He blinked at her. “Yes?”
Her cheeks heated. “You’re not…married are you? Or otherwise engaged?”
His brows snapped together in a frown. “Of course not.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank heavens.”
Lucas smiled at her comment, then made to step past her back toward the entrance to the alcove. But she moved to the side at the same moment he did, and they both bumped straight into each other. Her head tipped back, and his chin tipped down. Their lips were mere inches apart.
He couldn’t move. He watched intently as she tucked a fallen curl behind her ear, then she lifted her gaze to his and he studied the flecks of gold in her dark orbs. His hand moved slowly of its own accord to gently cup her elbow. Her breaths increased, causing her chest to rise and fall faster. He stepped infinitesimally closer, the scent of peonies driving him mad.
He licked his lips in anticipation of the kiss.
Her tongue darted out to run over her lips as well.
He sucked in a breath. Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew he’d be crossing a line if he didn’t turn and walk away right then, but he couldn’t make himself leave her.
“Must you go so soon?” she asked, her voice a trembling whisper.
“I suppose I could stay a bit longer,” he replied, his own voice husky. “If you’d like to convince me to.”
In answer, her hands moved up his shirtfront and wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling his head down to hers. “I would like to,” she breathed.
Lucas needed no further invitation. His lips met hers, a warm press at first until he opened his mouth and slanted it across hers. His tongue slid between her lips and she moaned in the back of her throat.
Lucas went hard instantly. He pulled her body tight against his and ravaged her mouth with his. He couldn’t get enough of her. She was soft and tasted like spring, and the scent of her perfume made him want to taste her. She wrapped her arms more tightly around him as the kiss intensified. He wanted to press her back against the bookshelf, wanted to grind himself against her, but he didn’t want to scare her. She might be questioning her decision to kiss him already and any sudden movement from him might well cause her to push him away.
His hands moved down her back. Lower and then lower again. Until he pulled her against him even more tightly, a groan emanating from his throat.
Time seemed to spin as he held her and kissed her, never wanting it to end. A voice calling from somewhere in the garden intruded, making Lucas quickly come to his senses. He slowly pulled his mouth from hers and moved his hands up to cup her face. Her eyes were still closed, and her lips were pink and swollen.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped back.
She opened her eyes. Her breathing was heavy, and she looked at him as if he were some sort of exotic creature standing in front of her instead of a flesh and blood man. She lifted her fingertips to her lips and softly touched them.
Confusion marred her lovely brow. “I…should probably go,” she whispered.
Lucas nodded. He was desperately hoping his raging cockstand would diminish before he was forced to leave the alcove. He cleared his throat and tried to think of something else. What? What? He shook his head. Oh, yes. “Before you go, may I ask you something about what you said earlier, regarding the Employment Bill?”
She nodded, closing her eyes again briefly as if still trying to make sense of what had just happened. “Of course,” she finally offered.
Lucas leaned an arm against the bookshelf. “Did I understand you to say that you attempt to speak with members of the House of Lords to convince them to vote against the bill while you are at parties with them?”
Her eyes focused on his face and she slowly raised a single brow. “Don’t look so aghast. Men have been doing the same thing for centuries. I’m not naïve enough to believe that many important decisions aren’t made in a gentlemen’s study over port and conversation while a ball is happening in the ballroom.”
Lucas shifted his weight to the opposite leg. Thankfully, his cockstand was quickly subsiding. “I cannot argue with you there, my lady, but tell me, you said you don’t see how anyone with a heart beating in his chest could be for the law. Why do you think that?”
“Countless reasons!” Her words were nearly shouted. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. Her next words were delivered in a much more moderate tone. “I mean, I could list a solid dozen reasons off the top of my head, but the biggest is that it only benefits the wealthy.”
He knew that was patently untrue. Charles would have never authored such a law. But Lucas sensed he needed to reply carefully, so Frances would listen without feeling as if he were like so many others who had attempted to stifle her opinions.
A bell chimed.
Lucas stepped out of the alcove and glanced at the clock that sat on the desk nearby. “We both must go now. But I would very much like to discuss this more. Will you meet me here tomorrow, say, one hour earlier?”
“I suppose I could do that.” A small smile popped to her lips. “If you promise to kiss me again.”
This time a smile made its way to his lips. “I suppose I could do that.”
Chapter Thirteen
The hour Frances spent in the quiet library with Mr. Lucas the next morning was the most enjoyable hour she’d spent since arriving at the house party. He was witty, he was kind, he was intelligent, and he was every bit as irreverent as she’d first guessed him to be. Best of all, the man actually listened to her. She sat there, going on and on about the evils of the Employment Bill, and instead of making an excuse and hurrying from the room, he sat next to her and looked into her eyes as she spoke. He asked questions to clarify certain points, and he nodded and murmured to demonstrate that he was paying attention.
Mr. Lucas had proven himself a more well-behaved gentleman than any of the titled lords of the ton she’d met. None of the gentlemen of her acquaintance truly paid heed to her words the way Mr. Lucas did. Oh, they humored her, and patted her on the hand, and sent her off to sit with the wallflowers again while they found other amusements, but not one of them had appeared to be truly contemplating her points when she’d enumerated the reasons why the Employment Bill was so awful.
Once Frances had made her case, she stared hopefully at Mr. Lucas, fully expecting him to agree with her on all points. After all, how could one not see the truth in the arguments she’d made? But instead of readily agreeing with her, he said something entirely unexpected. “If I were to guess what a nobleman might say in response,” he began, “I suppose he would say it would behoove him to support the bill so that he could fulfill his duties to the many people who rely upon him.”
Frances stared at him as if he’d just turned into a dragon. “What are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “If I were a nobleman, I might say the bill was helping by lowering the cost of wages and ensuring I didn’t have to employ someone who wasn’t holding up their end of the agreement. I’d be able to employ more people and fulfill my commitments to those who already work for me.”
The Footman and I Page 10
