Frances rolled her eyes. “Honestly, has Lord Clayton been telling you this drivel?”
Mr. Lucas cleared his throat. “Is it not true that men like Lord Clayton have obligations to fulfill? Surely your father has mentioned it to you if you’ve spoken to him about the law.”
Frances clenched her jaw. “My father has never fulfilled an obligation in his life.” The words had flown out of her mouth before she had a chance to examine them.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mr. Lucas said, giving her a look that did indeed say he was truly sorry. There was no pity in his gaze, however. Good. She detested pity.
She shrugged. “No need to be sorry. It’s harsh but true. Our lands are mortgaged and we’ve dismissed most of our servants.” Frances knew she shouldn’t be telling anyone these things, but somehow, she felt safe with Mr. Lucas. Somehow, she felt as if she could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge it.
“If that’s the case, then the bill would help to put more money back in your father’s pocket,” Mr. Lucas continued.
“My father’s pocket is empty because he’s gambled everything away. I’d rather put money in the pocket of the hardworking servants he’s forced out onto the streets.”
Mr. Lucas’s voice lowered, and a note of regret sneaked in. “Is it that bad?”
She lifted her chin and looked away. She refused to cry but she had to blink back tears. “We have only Albina and Mrs. Wimberly left.”
He leaned forward and touched her hand. Fire shot up her arm. “I’m sorry, Frances.”
It was the first time he’d called her by her Christian name. She wanted to do the same. She blinked away the tears once more. “It’s fine. We’ll be fine.” She tried to paste a fake smile on her face. “It occurs to me, I don’t know your Christian name.”
He glanced away, not meeting her gaze and waited a few moments before he said, “Lucas is my Christian name.”
She frowned. “What? Why didn’t you tell me? Here I’ve been calling you Mr. Lucas all this time.”
“I thought it would be too forward of me to correct you. Not to mention I shouldn’t have given you my Christian name to begin with.”
“What’s your surname then?” she asked.
He glanced away. His gaze scanned the room. “Uh, it’s…Wood. Lucas Wood.”
She nodded. “Well, that’s easy to remember. Now, Lucas, you must tell me, you cannot possibly be in favor of the law.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “There are many aspects to it that perhaps you, I mean, we don’t know about.”
Still sitting, she pressed her fists to her hips. “Oh, please don’t tell me that. I’ve heard it all before. Mention an aspect of the bill and I’ll tell you precisely how much I know about it.”
They spent the next half hour poring over every single point of the law. Frances had to admit that for a footman, Lucas was quite well versed on the details of the legislation. For every one of her arguments, he brought up a counter point that a nobleman ‘might’ argue.
“You’re far too influenced by your employer, I fear,” she finally announced.
“Why do you say that?” His brow furrowed once more.
She tossed up a hand in frustration. “Lucas, you’re in service. Don’t you see how this bill does nothing but keep you and your future children in service?” She blushed. “My apologies. I am making assumptions about you. Such as that you intend to have children.”
“I would very much like to,” he replied quietly, searching her face.
She felt her blush deepen. Good heavens, why had she mentioned his nonexistent children? “Well, then, can’t you see how such a bill does nothing for your good?”
Lucas looked out the window, slowly drawing one finger in a circle along the desktop. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. The House of Lords has the power to defeat this law, but they only vote in favor of themselves and their own purses.”
His gaze met hers again. “You’re not in service, my lady, can you tell me why you’re so interested in seeing it defeated?”
“Because,” she said quietly, turning to stare out across the garden and meadow beyond the windows. “I care about fairness and what is right. I care about other people more than myself and my own interests.”
Lucas’s voice lowered. “You think anyone espousing the bill only cares about their own interests?”
Her nostrils flared. “I don’t see how they cannot. It certainly isn’t helpful to the hardworking people who’ve been in their employ for years, sometimes generations.”
“I’m certain some members of the House of Lords do oppose the law,” he pointed out.
“Not nearly enough,” Frances replied. She still wasn’t entirely certain if Lucas was for the bill or if he was just arguing the point in order to rile her, but either way there were few things she liked better than discussing the laws.
He clasped his hands in front of himself and steepled his fingers. “Do you know the members of Parliament who are for and against the law?”
“No,” she replied. “But I can guess at some of them and I understand there are still a handful who are as yet undecided. Those are the men I intend to look for the next time I’m in Society.”
Lucas looked as if he were about to say something but shut his mouth before finally saying, “You truly think you can sway them?”
“I’ve no idea but I know I must try,” she replied with a resolute nod.
“You’re certain you’re right, aren’t you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes on her.
“I’m beyond certain.”
He appeared to contemplate that for a moment.
She wanted to grab him and shake him. Instead, she leaned toward him. “Lucas, do you hear me? Am I making you think?”
He looked lazily into her eyes and his gaze focused on her mouth. Oh, God. He was going to kiss her again…and she wanted him to. “You’re making me think about all sorts of things.” He leaned closer, closer and his eyes began to close. Frances leaned closer too and when their lips touched, he immediately came out of his chair, pulling her atop him onto the thick carpet on the floor next to the table.
He rolled atop her and pressed himself against her while showering her face and neck with kisses.
This was madness. Someone might come in at any moment and find them, but Frances couldn’t make herself care enough to stop. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him to her, her legs parting as far as they could beneath her skirts.
His mouth slid down to her neck and he nuzzled her ear before lowering his kisses to her décolletage, and finally pulling down her gown to free one breast. When his lips closed around her nipple, she went completely mindless. His insistent tongue brushed the sensitive peak and his lips tugged at it, pooling heat between her legs. “Lucas,” she cried softly against his ear. He shuddered and pressed himself more tightly against her. She could feel the outline of him through his breeches, pressing against her most intimate spot. He rubbed against her in a way that made her want to call out.
Then his mouth moved back up to hers and her fingers pushed up into his hair, knocking his wig to the ground beside them. She stared at him. His hair was dark. She liked that. She liked that very much. She’d guessed as much from the color of his eyebrows, but seeing him without the wig, the man was even more handsome.
The briefest hint of guilt flashed through her brain. Not guilt at her own shameless behavior, but guilt at the fact that Albina had told her she fancied him. If she were in her right mind, she would let him go. She should not be doing this. She would encourage a match with Albina. But she also couldn’t help but think that she’d had a moment with him before Albina had ever even met him and oh, it was so difficult to think with his mouth on her neck like that.
Lucas rolled over, pulling her atop him. They bumped into the table. One of the smaller books that had been opened near the corner of the table fell to the floor not an inch from their faces and t
heir laughter over the silliness of that caused them to stop kissing.
Lucas rubbed his nose against hers. “I suppose that’s our cue to stop.”
She sighed, her hands still around his neck. “I suppose so.”
He rolled to the side, scooped up his wig, jumped up and then helped her up. They both spent a few moments putting their clothing to rights before he pulled out the chair for her and she resumed her seat as if the last few moments had never even happened.
He took his own seat again as well.
“Well, then, now, where were we?” she asked with a giggle, unable to stop staring at him. By God, the man was so handsome it nearly hurt to look at him. She’d no idea why he found her appealing. She certainly wasn’t the female equivalent in looks.
Lucas cleared his throat. He’d replaced his wig, but it did look a bit worse for the wear. She leaned over to help him adjust it back into place. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ve found this a chore to get used to.”
“What?” she asked, frowning.
“Oh, er, uh. It’s a new wig. I’m accustomed to my old one.” He cleared his throat. “By the by, what about the law’s owner? Do you know who he is?”
She narrowed her eyes until she could barely see out of them and spoke through clenched teeth. “Oh, yes, I know the name well. I detest the man and if I ever lay eyes on that bastard Lord Kendall, I intend to tell him precisely what I think of his revolting Employment Bill.”
Chapter Fourteen
Frances was hurrying back up to her room after her rendezvous with Lucas in the library. She supposed what they were doing each day qualified as a rendezvous and God help her, she had no intention of stopping their interludes. With a clear head she could see she wasn’t being entirely disloyal to Albina. Albina hadn’t even met Lucas, after all, according to him. She merely fancied him from afar. Of course, the right thing to do would be to tell Albina that she was already smitten with the man herself, but that was out of the question. How in the world would she explain to her maid that she’d been meeting a footman in the library and kissing him each day? She doubted Albina would tell Mama, but there was no guarantee, and besides, it wasn’t a story Frances wanted spread about. Albina had been known to gossip upon occasion. No. This particular secret was one Frances intended to keep to herself. It was wrong, and it was illicit, and it was the most fun she’d had in an age. She only wished Abigail was here to share it with. Abigail could keep a secret.
Frances pressed a hand to her throat as she made her way up the winding staircase to her bedchamber. Heavens, when she got to her room, she would have to check the looking glass for love bites. She’d heard other young ladies at parties speak of such things, but she’d never been privy to such salaciousness. Now, she was doing her best to pull her curls over her neck to hide what might well be a mark from a lover. She shuddered, remembering the feel of Lucas’s mouth on hers, his lips on her neck, his tongue on her breast of all scandalous things. Ooh, she couldn’t wait for him to do it again. She bent her head and stared at the ground to hide her smile.
Lucas was more than just handsome. In addition to their lovemaking, she’d also been stimulated by their discussion. It was the first real conversation she’d had with an adult male where she truly felt as if they were equals. All the other gentlemen she’d spoken with about politics wanted to dismiss her views as quickly as possible, have a servant fetch her more tea, and talk about something boring like the last play at the theater or the lovely artwork on the wall next to them.
For a time, she’d been concerned that Lucas might actually be in favor of the Employment Bill. He seemed to defend it quite vigorously. She’d heard that the law’s creator, Lord Kendall, was friendly with Lord Clayton. Perhaps Lucas knew the earl from having served him when he came to visit. Regardless, she’d decided that Lucas couldn’t possibly be in favor of a bill that did absolutely nothing to help his own class. She guessed that he enjoyed the discussion as much as she did and wanted to provide her with the means to make her arguments. It had been quite chivalrous of him when she stopped to consider it.
She’d made it to the second floor’s landing and was nearly halfway down the hall to her bedchamber door when another door opened, and Sir Reginald emerged. Frances froze, hoping he might not see her and continue on past, but apparently, luck was not on her side at the moment. Instead, Sir Reginald made a grand show, stopping, and bowing, and doffing his hat.
“There you are, Miss Wharton. You look as lovely as ever,” he boomed.
Frances wondered if her lips looked swollen from kissing Lucas and if a love bite was, in fact, visible on her neck. She started to giggle.
“Are you quite all right, Miss Wharton?” Sir Reginald looked genuinely worried for her.
“Oh, yes, I’m…fine…quite…fine,” she said, in between giggles. She pressed her fingertips to her lips to keep from laughing more. It was just so comical to see Sir Reginald after what she’d just done in the library with Lucas.
“Are you going to the picnic lunch with the other ladies?” Sir Reginald asked, thankfully willing to change the subject.
“Oh, er, yes, I believe I am,” she replied. She pinched the inside of her arm to stop laughing.
“Very well,” the knight bowed again, “then I shall see you at dinner this evening?”
Frances wanted to say, “I hope not.” Instead, the thought just made her giggle more. “Yes, dinner,” she replied noncommittally.
“I do hope we’re able to go for a ride,” he said. “Perhaps tomorrow afternoon?”
Frances was just about to open her mouth to say she was otherwise occupied tomorrow afternoon when Sir Reginald snapped his fingers. “Wait. No. Not tomorrow. I’m meeting with Lord Kendall tomorrow afternoon.”
Frances stopped laughing. She narrowed her eyes on Sir Reginald. “Kendall? Did you say Lord Kendall?”
“Yes, the Earl of Kendall. Do you know him?” Sir Reginald asked as he plucked at his ornate cuff.
Blood pounded in Frances’s temple. “I’ve never met him. I wasn’t aware he was at this party.”
“Oh, he hasn’t been,” Sir Reginald replied. “He’s only coming for a day or two. He’s fast friends with Clayton, don’t you know?”
“Yes, I’d heard as much.” Frances forced herself to breathe properly, while a hundred thoughts flew through her mind. Lord Kendall—the Lord Kendall—would be here? At this house party?
“From what I understand he’s arriving any moment now,” Sir Reginald added.
“Is that so?” A slow smile spread across Frances’s face. If that blackguard the Earl of Kendall was coming here, she intended to give the man a piece of her mind. “What time are you meeting him?”
Chapter Fifteen
Now that he was at the house party as the Earl of Kendall, Lucas had been given a bedchamber on the second floor with most of the other guests. Bell met him there that afternoon to serve as his valet. As Bell helped him change from the Clayton livery into his buckskin breeches and emerald-green coat, Lucas couldn’t help but replay the entire conversation earlier with Frances in his head. She’d been so knowledgeable and discerning when she spoke about the Employment Bill.
Clearly, she’d formed her own steadfast opinion on the matter and Lucas was both duly impressed and utterly frustrated. There was little chance she would change her mind. In fact, many of her points had made Lucas question his own logic. He’d been so dedicated to ensuring the bill passed because of his promise to his brother. He knew all the talking points, had repeated them at length to his compatriots in the House of Lords, and he’d believed them, by God. Every word of them. Only when Frances had asked him if he could see how such a bill did nothing for his own good, guilt had weighed on him. He’d had to remind himself that he was playacting. But playacting would be a poor excuse if he ended up hurting Frances because of it.
And while he was thinking about guilt, that particular emotion had doubled and then tripled within him after the kisses they’d shared. T
he first time he’d kissed her, his guilt had been minimal. It wasn’t the most noble thing to do, to kiss a woman who didn’t know who you truly were. But he’d quickly dismissed that doubt when she’d responded so enthusiastically. The second time they’d kissed, he’d gone a bit farther, risked a bit more, and it had been pure bliss, until she’d announced that she detested the Earl of Kendall. That had made it all too clear that he was nothing more than a liar.
This charade may have begun as a lark, but it was turning into something all too serious. His lies were multiplying. It made it worse that in the middle of lying to her about who he was and what he stood for, he’d gone and kissed her. Such bad form.
He had absolutely no excuse for his behavior. He had no right to speak to her, let alone kiss her. She hated him. Well, she hated Lord Kendall, who he really was. She didn’t know her friend Lucas, the footman, was the same man she detested.
How would he ever explain himself to her? How could he? She’d been busy pouring out her heart to him and he’d been her sworn enemy all along. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know he’d been her sworn enemy. He knew it now and he was still not telling the truth. He had to figure out a way to make this right. At the very least he had no right to kiss her and he would not do it again.
“How do you stand the guilt?” he asked Bell, who was currently helping him into his right boot. Bell was serving as his valet for two reasons. His own man hadn’t come with him for obvious reasons, and Bell was interested in practicing his skill at valeting every chance he got.
“What guilt?” Bell asked with a laugh.
“You never feel guilty? You’re a spy. You lie for a living.”
Bell straightened at that accusation and gave him a blank stare. “I do what is necessary to fulfill my duty to the Crown.”
Lucas expelled his breath. “No matter what I tell myself, I’m not doing this for a noble pursuit. I’ve told so many lies I don’t recognize myself any longer.”
The Footman and I: The Footmen’s Club Trilogy Page 11