“I think that would be best, Miss. Please let me know if I can send a message belowstairs to get you or your mother anything.”
“I’ll send Albina if we do need something.” She’d already turned and was making her way toward the opposite side of the floor to find her mother’s room.
She got nearly as far as the staircase when she thought to thank the valet. But when she turned around, he was gone.
She turned back toward her bedchamber and made haste. Dear God. She hoped Mama was all right. She couldn’t help but wonder if the heavens were paying her back for attempting to break her promise to her mother. No. She shook her head. That was a ludicrous idea. Wasn’t it?
She’d had to leave Lord Kendall’s door without speaking to him, but he was still somewhere in this house and she would find him before he left if it was the last thing she did. In the meantime, she would just have to wait and see if he deigned to answer her note.
Chapter Nineteen
Lucas made his way toward the library the next morning with a mix of trepidation and anticipation coursing through him. He wanted to see Frances. He wanted to talk to her, not just about politics. He wanted to ask her what she thought about a variety of things like steeple chases, and Christmastide, and children. He wanted to hear more of the reasons she disliked the ton. After all, they were many of the same reasons he did. She was so honest and open and didn’t seem to care what the world thought of her. Everyone could use more of that in their character. God knew he could.
Lucas had been disgusted last night, thinking of Frances married to Sir Reginald. The only thing that comforted Lucas was the fact that she’d clearly decided she would not marry the man, despite her mother’s wishes. Of course, if her father demanded it, she would have to go through with the match. Lucas could only hope Baron Winfield would take his daughter’s desires into account.
Lucas had been unable to sleep last night for several reasons. He’d nearly stopped breathing when he saw Frances outside his bedchamber door yesterday afternoon. He’d immediately turned in the opposite direction and nearly sprinted away. He’d gone up the servant’s staircase to Bell’s room and sent the marquess down to lure Frances away from his door. It had been yet another lie, but Bell had been happy enough to deliver it. He’d never met Frances before, and he doubted their paths would cross again during the house party.
At least the ploy had worked, and Lucas had been able to return to his room to fetch the livery he needed to change back into. But what if Frances was waiting outside his door when he woke up this morning? He’d decided it would be safer to sneak up to his room on the fourth floor with the other servants where Lucas, the footman, slept. At least there he had little chance of being waylaid by Frances looking to confront him about the Employment Bill.
He’d spent the remainder of the night trying to decide how he would handle the note Frances had written him. He’d finally decided the safest thing would be to write back and tell her he needed to return to London immediately, but he hoped to make her acquaintance one day.
It was the cowardly thing to do, but it would serve two purposes: first, it would keep her from an inappropriate meeting with an eligible gentleman that she never should have requested to begin with. Lucas doubted she’d considered the consequences that might occur if such a meeting were actually to take place and they were seen together alone. Second, it would keep them both from an ugly scene in the middle of Clayton’s home. If he were to meet with her and confess all, no doubt such a scene would be the result.
Lucas would tell her the truth. Someday. But for now, he needed to extricate himself from the complicated charade he had orchestrated with as few repercussions as possible. Besides, it was not as if Frances was dreaming of a future with Lucas, the footman. That would be impossible and they both knew it. Her heart might sting for a bit (as would his), but they would move on, eventually. And he would never make a mistake like this again.
He was still contemplating the bittersweet moment he would see her for the last time when he entered the library. She was already seated at the table near the windows smiling at him, her face aglow with happiness. He immediately imagined that same sweet face crumpled in confusion and anger. The inevitable result if he told her the truth.
“There you are,” she called. “I was beginning to wonder if you were coming this morning.”
He forced himself to paste a smile on his face. “Good morning, my lady.”
“Why weren’t you serving dinner last night?” she asked.
He was prepared for that question. “Lord Clayton assigned me elsewhere for the evening.”
“Hurry with the logs,” she continued, clearly accepting that excuse. “I have a great deal to tell you today. I’m not certain where to begin.”
He quickly finished his chore and made his way over to the table. “What do you have to tell me?” he asked, hating himself for being deceitful. He slid into the seat next to her.
Her eyes were bright with mischief. “For one thing, Lord Kendall is here. He didn’t attend dinner last night, but there is no doubt he’s here.”
“How do you know?” Lucas asked, his brow furrowing. Had word of his arrival already got out at the party? If so, he would have to keep his head down.
“Sir Reginald of all people told me. I wonder why Kendall didn’t come to dinner.”
“Perhaps he’s averse to large ton gatherings,” Lucas conjectured, knowing that was precisely why Lord Kendall didn’t come to dinner. That and the fact that Frances would have recognized him immediately.
“Perhaps.” She shrugged. “But I picture him as more of a man who likes to be the center of attention.”
Lucas succumbed to a coughing fit. Frances had to pound him on the back. When it was over, his eyes were watering profusely. “My apologies, my lady.”
“Are you quite all right?” Concern was etched into her features.
“Yes, I’m fine. What else were you going to tell me?” he asked, purposely changing the subject.
She tipped her head to the side. “I had the strangest interaction with a man who claimed to be Lord Copperpot’s valet. Do you know anything about him?”
“Lord Copperpot’s valet?” Lucas repeated, tugging at his neckcloth.
“Yes, he found me in the corridor last night waiting for Lord Kendall. He told me my mother had turned her ankle.”
Lucas did his best to feign concern. “Is she all right?”
“That’s just it. When I went to Mother’s bedchamber, she was perfectly fine. She hadn’t turned her ankle at all. Isn’t that strange?”
Lucas tugged at his neckcloth. “Perhaps he mistook you for someone else.”
Frances shook her head. “I don’t think so. He specifically called me by name, and he knew Mother’s name.”
“That is strange,” Lucas replied woodenly. He cleared his throat and forced himself to broach a subject he dreaded. “What were you doing outside Lord Kendall’s room?”
Her eyes gleamed. “Waiting for him, of course. Sir Reginald told me they had a meeting yesterday afternoon. I wanted to talk to him about the Employment Bill.”
Lucas couldn’t let on that he knew she’d sent him a note. Instead he asked, “Did you speak to him…Lord Kendall?”
She shook her head. “No, after I got to Mother’s room and realized she was all right, it was time to begin dressing for dinner. I thought better of returning to Lord Kendall’s door.”
“I think that’s wise,” Lucas said. “You don’t plan to return then?”
“No. I sent him a note asking him to meet with me.”
“You what?” He did his best to summon the appropriate amount of outrage.
“I know it’s inappropriate.” She tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth. “But I signed the note with my initials so he wouldn’t know I’m a woman.”
Lucas did his best to give her a stern stare. “What do you intend to do when you meet with him? Disguise yourself as a man?”
Another gl
eam came into her eyes. She sat up straighter in her chair. “You know, that’s not a half-bad idea.”
“I was only jesting,” he hastened to add.
She laughed. “Of course you were, but if I thought it would help me gain a meeting with him, I just might try it.”
Guilt was now a song singing loudly through every vein in Lucas’s body. He may not have had answers to half a dozen questions at the moment, but he knew one thing as certain as he knew that eight bells meant the end of a four-hour watch: he needed to stop this madness as soon as possible.
He’d already decided that he was through with this game. He had one more day to answer Sir Reginald. The only reason he hadn’t told the man to go toss himself yesterday was because he hadn’t trusted his own temper at the time. He also wanted his friends’ counsel as to how to best handle the knight’s request. As soon as he answered Sir Reginald, Lucas intended to leave the house party.
It would be cruel to disappear without saying good-bye to Frances, however. He would speak to her one last time in the library tomorrow morning. He’d make up some excuse for why he had to go. What did one final lie even matter? He would say good-bye to her and then he’d leave this damnable house party, forfeit the bet, and let Worth and Bell compete for the win. He wished he’d never agreed to the blasted bet in the first place. He certainly never would have had he known the depth of dishonesty he would be forced to sink to.
Lucas had wrestled all night with whether to tell Frances the truth now or leave and tell her later. He could either tell her the truth and watch her feelings for him fade beneath the lies, or he could leave with a beautiful memory of a beautiful lady…and hope he never encountered her and whoever was lucky enough to be her future husband about town. Damn it. Both choices were wrong to some extent. He would cause her pain, one way or the other.
He glanced at the clock. It was time to go, for now at least. If he stayed here with her any longer, he would only make things worse. He would only add to the pack of lies he would have to account for in future. If he stayed, he would only…want to kiss her again. And that would be unfair, to both of them.
“I have to go now, Frances,” he managed to say. “I…have some additional chores to attend to.” As excuses went it was particularly lame, but under the circumstances he thought it best not to invent any more elaborate stories.
Even though she nodded, he could see the disappointment in her eyes. “Of course,” she said. “Will you meet me here tomorrow?”
“I…yes, I will. Tomorrow.” His voice sounded melancholy, hoarse. He would do at least that much for her, promise to see her one last time. Say good-bye.
“Lucas, are you all right?” She bent her head to look at him. He was staring unseeing at the tabletop.
He lifted his gaze to hers. “Will you promise me you won’t go looking for Lord Kendall again?”
Her sharp intake of breath made him look up. “No, Lucas. I cannot promise you that. Please don’t ask me to.”
He nodded. “You have to do what you must.” He stood, pushed his chair beneath the table, and turned toward the door. Guilt gripped his heart. He began to walk away slowly.
“Lucas, wait,” she called.
He turned on his heel to face her. She’d already caught up to him and was standing directly behind him when he turned. “You cannot leave without a kiss.”
She lifted herself up on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and touched her lips to his.
Chapter Twenty
This kiss was unlike the others she’d shared with Lucas. At first, he seemed frozen, unwilling to participate. Frances was just about to release him and beg his pardon for mistaking the matter when she felt his resistance give way. His arms snaked around her back and he pulled her tightly against him, his mouth slanted over hers, his tongue sliding hot, wet, and warm, deep into the recesses of her mouth.
Relief swept through her. Thank heavens. She hadn’t been mistaken. He wanted this as much as she did. Desire coursed through her body. His large frame was trembling when his hand reached up to cup her breast and—
The library door creaked open.
They jumped apart immediately, each taking a large step back. But they were breathing heavily and no doubt looking exceedingly guilty when Albina, of all people, stepped into the room.
The moment Albina saw the two of them together, her eyes narrowed to slits for the barest hint of a moment before returning to their vacant stare.
“There ye are, Mr. Lucas. I’ve been looking for ye,” Albina called.
Frances watched as the maid came waltzing up to Lucas as if it was perfectly normal for her to have just found her employer and the man she fancied standing conspicuously alone in the library together, panting.
Frances scrambled to think of something relevant to say. “What are you doing here, Albina?” It wasn’t a particularly remarkable question, but it was the first thing that sprang to mind.
Albina turned innocent blue eyes to Frances and blinked at her. “I’ve a message for Mr. Lucas from Lord Clayton.”
Frances watched in disbelief as Albina made a show of pulling a slip of paper from between her breasts. She clearly intended for Lucas to watch. Appalled at the maid’s shocking lack of decorum, Frances stood with her mouth open, staring at Albina. For his part, Lucas shifted from foot to foot, scratching at the back of his neck, and looking nothing if not entirely uncomfortable.
“Here it is,” Albina announced, handing the slip of paper to Lucas. “Lord Clayton gave me this ta give ta ye.” She laughed and placed her hand atop her décolletage again. “O’ course, I don’t mind coming ta look fer ye, Mr. Lucas.” She eyed him up and down and licked her lips.
Frances smoothed her hand over her hair and cleared her throat, still trying to make sense of the situation. “Albina, why did Lord Clayton give you the note for Mr. Lucas instead of one of his own servants?”
Albina snort-laughed. “I don’t think he realized I weren’t one of his maids, milady. And I’m supposin’ there weren’t no footmen available at the time.”
Frances pressed her lips together. The entire situation was odd, but Lucas was already reading the note from Lord Clayton and it appeared to be legitimate. “Is everything all right?” she asked, searching his face for some clue as to the note’s contents.
“Everything is fine, but I must go,” Lucas replied. “Lord Clayton needs me.”
“Of course.” Frances nodded.
Lucas bowed to Frances and thanked Albina for bringing him the note before striding quickly from the room.
Frances stood next to Albina and watched him go, her lips still burning from his kiss. She wanted to know if the maid had seen their embrace, but it would hardly be appropriate to ask. Besides, Frances had already got the distinct impression that if Albina hadn’t seen anything, she certainly had suspected that she’d interrupted something.
Another tug of guilt pulled at Frances’s conscience at the memory of Albina telling her that she fancied Lucas. It was madness, but Frances actually felt jealousy, too. She was jealous that Albina was more entitled to him than she was. Frances certainly had no business kissing him. Oh, when had she got involved in such a complicated mess?
“I told ye he were a fine specimen o’ a man, didn’t I, milady?” Albina finally asked, rocking back and forth on both heels, her hands clasped together in front of her.
“Indeed, you did,” Frances replied feeling both awkward and guilty at the same time. How else could she possibly respond to that statement?
“But he is a footman, milady,” Albina continued, and this time Frances did not mistake the sly, warning look on the maid’s face.
Frances dropped her head to her palm and sighed. “I know, Albina.” Oh, how well she knew.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lucas hurried up the stairs to Bell’s fourth floor bedchamber. The note from Clayton had been a request to seek him out there as soon as possible. By the time he arrived, all three of his friends were already i
n the room. Bell sat on the cot. Clayton sat in the chair in front of the small desk, and Worth sat atop the deep window ledge.
“Ah, if it isn’t the elusive Earl of Kendall,” Clayton said the moment Lucas entered the room and shut the door behind him.
“Elusive?” Lucas echoed.
“Yes, seems word’s got out,” Clayton continued. “The gossip mill is well aware of the fact that the Earl of Kendall has arrived at the party.”
“Blast,” Lucas cursed under his breath.
“Well, it goes without saying that Kendall won’t be at dinner tonight,” Lucas replied with a wry half-smile. After the unsettling encounter with Albina nearly walking in on his kiss with Frances in the library, moments ago, Lucas couldn’t seem to focus.
“Theodora’s at her wit’s end trying to come up with excuses for why you haven’t joined any of the festivities,” Clayton added. “As Kendall of course.”
“Sounds like Lucas the footman shouldn’t be serving in the dining room any longer either,” Bell cautioned from his spot on the bed.
“Agreed,” Clayton and Lucas replied simultaneously.
“I couldn’t do it any longer even if I wanted to,” Lucas continued.
“Why’s that?” Worth asked, his leg swinging back and forth as usual. “Too much work?”
Lucas shook his head. “No, the chores made me feel useful, actually. I simply no longer have the stomach for lying to Frances about who I am.”
“Feeling guilty, Kendall?” Worth asked.
“You’ve no idea how much,” Lucas replied solemnly.
The serious tone of his reply made even Worth go silent.
Lucas shrugged. “Not to mention I don’t think I can serve that bombastic clod Sir Reginald again. I’d be as likely to pour gravy onto his lap than onto his plate.”
“I would pay to see that,” Worth said with a snort.
Lucas moved over toward the cot and dropped onto it to sit next to Bell. “Speaking of Sir Reginald, I have one more meeting with him tomorrow.”
The Footman and I Page 14
