The Footman and I: The Footmen’s Club Trilogy

by Bowman, Valerie

  “Busy with footman duties today, Lucas?” Bell asked, arching one blond brow.

  Bell stood in the far-right corner facing the others, leaning a shoulder against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Worth sat atop a keg on the left wall bouncing one leg, while Clayton stood near the door, his back pressed to the wall. The viscount shut the door as soon as Lucas entered and took a seat at the small table in the center of the room.

  “Something like that,” Lucas muttered, sliding into a seat across from Clayton.

  “Is everyone still a servant as far as the guests know?” Bell asked next. “I am.”

  “I am, too,” Lucas replied with a nod, but he refrained from saying more.

  “I still am,” Worth declared. “With the exception of Lady Julianna, that shrew.”

  “Yes,” Bell said, stepping forward. “What exactly happened there, Worth? You never said.”

  Worth groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Of all the house parties in all the world, why did Lady Julianna Montgomery have to pick this one? And by the way, Clayton, I’m none too pleased with you for inviting her here. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were out to sabotage my odds.”

  “On the contrary, I had nothing to do with it,” Clayton replied, leaning back in his chair. “I asked Theodora about it last night. She told me that Lady Julianna’s mother and sister were invited, and at the last minute they sent word that Lady Julianna would be accompanying them. It was too late to write and ask them not to. Besides, what excuse could poor Theodora have possibly given?”

  “Yes, well, she might have let me know Julianna was on her way. The chit loves horses. I could have made myself scarce.”

  “A groomsman making himself scarce in the stables is hardly good form,” Clayton replied with a laugh. “Besides, Theodora had quite forgotten your history with Lady Julianna, and she hadn’t told me the girl was coming. When you mentioned it yesterday it was the first I’d heard of it.”

  “Regardless,” Bell interjected. “Do tell what happened when she saw you, Worth.”

  “Yes,” Lucas added, leaning forward and propping an elbow on the table. “She had to have recognized you.”

  “Of course she recognized me,” Worth declared, pulling up his boot. “The chit isn’t blind. Not to mention I’m not exactly someone to forget.” He sat back and gave them all a wicked grin.

  Bell rolled his eyes. “Go on, what happened?”

  Worth’s smile didn’t diminish. “I managed to convince her to go on a ride with me without sounding the alarm.”

  “And then what happened?” Lucas asked, turning in his chair to see more of Worth. His memory of Worth’s history with Lady Julianna amounted to some gossip in the papers and then Worth saying he’d dodged a bullet. As far as Lucas knew, they’d never actually been betrothed.

  “Let’s just say I managed to convince her to keep her mouth shut,” Worth replied, smoothing his hands down both sleeves of his jacket.

  “How?” Bell asked, his sharp, narrowed eyes searching Worth’s face.

  Worth cleared his throat. “My charm?”

  Bell arched a brow. “Truly?”

  “Very well. I’d rather not say,” Worth replied.

  “Oh, you can’t do that to us, Worth,” Lucas said with a groan.

  “I can and I will,” Worth retorted. “We all spoke about this. One or two people knowing who we are is perfectly acceptable. The rest of the party just can’t know.”

  “Agreed,” Clayton said with a nod. “As long as Lady Julianna keeps it to herself, I suppose you’re still officially in the game.”

  “Thank you.” Worth inclined his head toward their host and gave the other two men a smug smile.

  “I can only imagine what you had to do to get her to agree to remain silent,” Bell said, whistling. “If memory serves you were persona non grata with her the last time you two spoke.”

  “Wrote is more precise,” Worth replied, “and no amount of prodding shall make me tell you, though I admire your subtle efforts, Bell. And for the record, the non grata was quite mutual. Now, let’s speak of more pleasant things, shall we? Any wifely prospects, Kendall?” The duke blinked at Lucas.

  Lucas tugged at his cravat and scrunched up his nose. What was there to say? “No,” was the first word on his lips. Frances Wharton had certainly intrigued him, but he wasn’t prepared to marry her at this point and there were definite things about her and her family that made her a poor choice. There was, however, something he did want to discuss with his friends. “I have yet to find my future bride, but I do need your help with something.”

  “Yes?” Clayton asked, leaning forward.

  Lucas cleared his throat. “Since Sir Reginald Francis is here and—”

  “Sir Reginald?” Bell interrupted. “I haven’t seen him. What’s he doing here?”

  “That’s a question I’d like to know the answer to also.” Lucas leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared directly at Clayton.

  “I couldn’t help it,” Clayton replied, lifting his chin. “I always invite Sir Reginald. He’s thick as thieves with the Prince. I hardly want to get on the bad side of their ilk.”

  “But you might have warned me before I had to serve him at dinner,” Lucas replied.

  Worth whistled. “That must have been something.”

  “I admit,” Clayton said with a wince, “Theodora and I wanted to see if Bell’s theory was correct. Would you truly be overlooked when dressed as a servant, Kendall? And you were. Sir Reginald never even glanced at you. By God, it was amazing.” Clayton clapped his hand against his knee.

  Bell tugged at his sleeve. “I told you so.”

  “Indeed, you did,” Lucas replied. “But what if Sir Reginald had looked at me?”

  “Then you would have lost the bet the first night, old man,” Worth said, hopping off the keg, and slapping Lucas on the back. “That’s the entire game.”

  “I suppose I may have had the chance to talk him out of it like you apparently did with Lady Julianna,” Lucas replied.

  “A fine attempt,” Worth replied, “but I still refuse to tell you what I said to her.”

  Lucas shrugged.

  “So, Sir Reginald is such a blowhard he didn’t even notice you serving him dinner, Kendall,” Bell continued, shaking his head.

  “Didn’t even notice him when Kendall spilled wine on his would-be fiancée,” Clayton added.

  “Whose would-be fiancée?” Worth asked, his brow furrowing.

  “Sir Reginald’s,” Clayton replied. “Apparently, he’s set his sights on Miss Wharton.”

  “Miss Wharton?” Bell echoed. “The termagant?”

  “There’s another termagant here?” Worth asked. “I thought Lady Julianna was the only one at this party.”

  “Miss Wharton isn’t a termagant,” Lucas blurted. “She was simply trying to dissuade Sir Reginald and I, for one, cannot blame her.”

  His friends’ heads all swiveled to look at him. And from the looks on their faces he might as well have just declared that he was sprouting two heads. It reminded Lucas of the night at the Curious Goat when they’d hatched this insane plot to begin with.

  Clayton cleared his throat. “I believe I speak for all of us when I ask, how exactly do you know that, Kendall?”

  Lucas pressed his lips together while he quickly thought of and discarded several replies. Now he’d gone and done it. There was hardly a graceful way to explain how he happened to know that Miss Wharton had only been pretending to rant at a servant two nights ago at dinner.

  “I spoke with the lady, afterward. She…apologized,” he offered.

  “Apologized?” The look on Clayton’s face was that of pure shock. “You mean she sought you out?”

  Lucas nodded. “Yes, she came down to the kitchens after dinner and apologized to all of us.”

  “But how do you know she’s trying to dissuade Sir Reginald?” Bell pressed.

  Lucas tugged at his neckcloth again
. By God, this was becoming more complicated by the moment. “She told me.”

  “What?” Worth nearly shouted. “The lady actually told you she isn’t interested in Sir Reginald’s suit?”

  “That’s right,” Lucas replied. It was too late now. He’d begun down this road and he needed to see it through.

  “But she still thinks you’re a footman, correct?” Bell clarified, frowning.

  “Correct,” Lucas replied.

  Clayton shook his head. “Why in the world would she discourage his suit? She’s without a dowry and Sir Reginald seems to be the only one interested.”

  That wasn’t something Lucas intended to answer. “Be that as it may, she told me herself.”

  “When she apologized to you for yelling at you in the dining room?” Bell asked.

  Lucas nodded. “That’s right.”

  “I still would like to know how she happened to mention to a footman that she wasn’t interested in a gentlemen’s suit,” Worth prodded.

  Lucas took a deep breath. Very well. He might as well out with it. “We’ve become…friendly. I see her in the library in the mornings.”

  All three men’s brows shot straight up.

  Worth found his voice first. “A lady being friendly with a footman?” Worth nearly snorted. “Well, isn’t that perfect?”

  “It’s not perfect, it’s awful,” Lucas mumbled.

  “Why? I thought you were looking for a lady who would be nice to servants,” Worth continued.

  Lucas shook his head. “I was, but now that we’ve actually spoken a handful of times, how in the world am I ever to meet her as Lord Kendall? She’ll recognize me.”

  “Oh, I see. That does create a problem, doesn’t it?” Clayton said, pressing a finger to his top lip.

  “I say that is a problem for another day,” Bell added, plucking at his bottom lip. “I wouldn’t worry about it now, Kendall. These things have their ways of resolving themselves.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Lucas replied, “but I do know I’d certainly like to stop discussing it.” He pulled off the hot wig and ran a hand through his hair. “Now, can we speak about something else?”

  “Yes, what would you like to speak about, Kendall?” Clayton answered gamely.

  Lucas settled back into his chair. “I’m going to need your help with something, all of you.”

  “What’s that?” Clayton asked, leaning forward again and looking quite interested.

  “I need to speak privately with Sir Reginald and when I do so it has to be as the Earl of Kendall.”

  Clayton snorted. “So, what, you intend to run back and forth between rooms pretending to be Lucas the footman in one and Lord Kendall, the earl, in another?”

  Lucas scrubbed the back of his hand against his forehead. “Something like that.”

  “Oh, I cannot wait,” Clayton replied, laughing and slapping his hand against the table. “How quickly can you change clothing between courses?”

  Worth’s crack of laughter bounced off the walls of the small room. “Yes, and remember, the game will be lost if you show up as the Earl of Kendall in your livery.”

  “Or accidentally pour Sir Reginald’s wine when dressed as the earl,” Clayton added.

  Bell turned to lean his back entirely against the wall and expelled a deep breath. “Oh, Kendall, you do know how to complicate things.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The next morning Frances could barely sit still on the tufted stool in front of the mirrored dressing table in her guest bedchamber. Albina was busy curling her hair with hot tongs. The maid had recently finished applying the slightest hint of rose-colored rouge to Frances’s cheeks. She’d also already dabbed her favorite peony-scented perfume behind both ears. The butterflies winging around in her middle made her feel more like she was preparing for a ball than dressing in a simple yellow gown to take a stroll to the library.

  But Mr. Lucas would be in the library again today. She was certain of it. Just as certain as she was of the fact that she was looking forward to spending time with him again. It made no sense. It wasn’t as if she could have a future with him. Even if she wanted to. Her parents would never allow it. And besides, hadn’t she always been the one dead set against marriage? Not that she wanted to marry Mr. Lucas. Why, she’d only just met the man. Heavens, no. But he certainly was handsome, and funny, and charming and—

  “Ouch!”

  “I’m sorry, Miss. It were an accident,” Albina said, wincing and scrunching up her nose.

  Frances rubbed at her right cheek, the one that Albina had just accidentally glanced with the hot tongs.

  Frances met the maid’s gaze in the looking glass. Albina’s eyes were wide with worry. “Please don’t tell yer mum, Miss Frances. She’ll be displeased with me, fer certain.”

  Frances left off rubbing her cheek and gave the maid an encouraging smile. “No, of course I won’t tell her, Albina. It’s all right. Don’t worry.”

  Albina expelled her breath and her eyes lost their troubled look. She resumed her ministrations on Frances’s coiffure.

  Frances continued to watch the maid in the looking glass. Albina was medium height, with blond hair and sky-blue eyes. She was pretty enough but usually had a vacant expression on her face. She did her work thoroughly and never complained, however, which was why the maid was one of only two servants Frances’s family had left. She’d already stepped in to be a lady’s maid to all three women in the house and clean and help cook. What more could they ask of her? The poor girl had nothing to worry about from her mother’s quarter. They needed her desperately. Hmm. Perhaps Albina was afraid for her job for just that reason. They’d let go of all the rest of the staff except their cook. No doubt Albina thought she could be next on the chopping block.

  For the hundredth time in as many days, Frances silently cursed her father. The man couldn’t leave a gaming table alone. She’d heard the late night conversations her mother and father had in the bedchamber when their voices were raised. Her mother begged her father to stop gambling, while her father insisted he’d win the next time and all would be put to rights. Her mother was wasting her breath. Father had no intention of stopping. Their lives had changed little by little as they’d sold off household goods and let go of staff. Frances had come to realize that her mother’s displeasure and their reduced style of living weren’t the only two consequences of her father’s choices.

  More and more men had begun coming to the door of their London town house at all hours. Mama and Abigail hadn’t noticed. The men usually arrived after they’d all retired for the evening, but Frances’s bedchamber window was directly above her father’s study. She’d been privy to the sound of raised voices and angry-sounding threats on more than one occasion. She’d never mentioned any of the episodes to mother or Abigail. She didn’t want to worry them. What sense was there in that? But she guessed Father’s situation was even more dire than Mother seemed to believe.

  “What do ye plan ta do today, Miss Frances?” Albina asked, shaking her from her thoughts. The maid had finished curling her hair and was busy pinning the curls into place.

  Frances sighed and did her best to sound nonchalant. “Oh, I thought I’d go to Lord Clayton’s library again today.”

  Albina shook her head and grimaced as if she smelled curdled milk. “I don’t see how ye can stand all that readin’.”

  Frances chuckled. “Reading is one of my favorite things to do.”

  “I know, Miss,” Albina replied, setting yet another curl with a hairpin. “But it just seems so borin’.”

  Frances smiled at the maid in the looking glass. “You should try it more, Albina. I’d be happy to work with you on reading just as I’ve helped you learn to write.” In fact, Albina had come to her late last summer and asked Frances to teach her how to write. No one had been more surprised than Frances, but she’d spent three hours a day, morning, noon, and night with the maid and the young woman had made considerable progress quickly. Albina was a quick
learner and a diligent student.

  Albina kept her gaze focused on her task. “I know. I know, Miss. So ye’ve said many times. Maybe someday I’ll take ye up on it. Fer now, I’ll just stick to writin’ though.”

  Frances concentrated on keeping her head steady to make the maid’s job easier for her. “How are the other servants treating you, Albina? Downstairs, I mean. Lord Clayton’s servants.” Frances had to admit, she wondered if Albina knew anything about Mr. Lucas. For instance, did he have a wife? She’d never even contemplated that possibility before this morning.

  “It’s the regular lot,” Albina replied with a sigh. “Can’t say they’ve been particularly nice ta me, but I also can’t say they ain’t been helpful neither.”

  Frances nodded. Not exactly useful gossip, but at least her maid was being treated well.

  Albina finished with the last pin and pressed her hands against Frances’s head to tamp down the entire coiffure. A sly smile crept across the maid’s face. “There is one chap, though.”

  Frances leaned toward the looking glass, suddenly quite interested. “Yes?”

  “I must say I’ve taken a fancy to ‘im,” Albina said, still smiling.

  Frances smiled too. “Really? Albina, I’ve never heard you say such a thing before.”

  “He’s a right fine sight ta look at, ‘e is. Works fer Lord Clayton as a footman.”

  Frances’s stomach dropped. She forced herself to ask the question even though she feared she already knew the answer. “What’s his name?”

  Albina stepped back, clamping her hands together in front of her, a dreamy expression on her face. “His name’s Lucas. Mr. Lucas.”

  Chapter Twelve

  As expected, Lucas found Frances in the library later that morning. She was sitting at the table near the windows with a large book spread out in front of her.

  “Good morning, Mr. Lucas,” she called, the moment he walked through the door.

  “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.