The Footman and I: The Footmen’s Club Trilogy

by Bowman, Valerie

  Bell contemplated the matter for a moment. “I suppose it helps that most of the people I have to lie to are either lying to me as well or guilty of something.”

  “Yes, well, Miss Wharton hasn’t lied to me and I doubt she’s guilty of anything,” Lucas replied, sliding his stocking foot into the boot. “This entire experiment—as Clayton likes to call it, it’s not at all what I imagined it would be.”

  Bell grabbed the other boot and held it out for Lucas to step into. “Because you’re falling in love with Miss Wharton?”

  Lucas’s jaw dropped. “What? No, I—”

  “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To find true love? I do admit it’s turned a bit dubious given the fact that you’re spending time with her and she knows you as a servant, but it’s not insurmountable, you know? I was right about the dowry though, wasn’t I?”

  Lucas nearly growled. “Yes, you were right about the dowry. If only I gave a toss about a dowry. I began this thing looking for a true wife. I never thought about the fact that I would need to be a true husband. Even if I was madly in love with Miss Wharton, I couldn’t have her now if I wanted her. All I’ve told her is a pack of lies. This entire idea was ridiculous to begin with. I should just go back to London to marry the first lady my mother points to.”

  Bell’s laughter filled the room. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “There may be no fun, but there is no guilt either.” Lucas groaned.

  Bell shook his head. “Guilt isn’t the worst feeling, Kendall.”

  Lucas put his fists on his hips. “Oh, really, what’s worse?”

  Bell shrugged. “Regret.”

  Lucas tipped his head back to look up at the ceiling and expelled his breath once more. “It doesn’t matter any longer. I’ve made my decision. This afternoon I’m speaking to Sir Reginald about the Employment Bill. This evening I intend to keep to myself in the servants’ hall and far away from the dining room. Tomorrow morning I’ll say good-bye to Miss Wharton, and then I’m leaving.”

  A sly smile spread across Bell’s face. “If you’re not in love with her, why say good-bye?”

  “Don’t make me dismiss you on your first day as my valet,” Lucas nearly growled.

  Bell’s laughter was interrupted by a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” Lucas called, still shrugging into the coat Bell had just held out for him.

  The door opened and one of Clayton’s footmen, Arthur, entered. He held a silver salver with a note lying on it.

  “For you, my lord,” Arthur said, bowing to Lucas.

  “Thank you, Arthur.” Lucas flipped him a coin. “That will be all.” He pulled the note from the salver and set the plate on a nearby table.

  “From Clayton?” Bell asked nonchalantly as he folded and placed Lucas’s livery in the wardrobe.

  Lucas shook his head. “No. You won’t believe who it’s from.”

  “Read it,” Bell prompted.

  Lucas took a deep breath and spoke aloud the words he’d just hastily read to himself.

  Lord Kendall,

  We have not met, but I have something important to discuss with you as it pertains to your Employment Bill. I’ve been informed that you are joining the house party and would like to request a few moments of your time. I appreciate that you’re a busy man and I thank you for your consideration.

  F. R. T. Wharton

  “From Miss Wharton?” Bell asked, arching a brow.

  “It must be,” Lucas replied. “I assume she used her initials so that I might believe she’s a male.”

  Bell frowned. “What does she think you’d do when you discover you’re meeting with a young woman instead?”

  Lucas shrugged. “My guess is that she intends to worry about that when the time comes.”

  Bell shook his head. “Miss Wharton should take care. She has to know it’s inappropriate of her to ask for a meeting alone with a man.”

  Lucas nodded. “No doubt that’s why she didn’t sign her Christian name. Blast. What am I to do with this?” He held the note aloft.

  Bell pursed his lips. “I could meet her and pretend to be you.”

  “No!” Lucas nearly shouted. “No more playacting. This entire affair is convoluted enough as it is.”

  Bell laughed. “Very well. But if you change your mind, do let me know. I’m something of an expert at pretending to be people I’m not.”

  Lucas glanced at his friend. “Yes, as to that, how’s it coming with the lady’s maid you mentioned?”

  A low growl was Bell’s only answer.

  That was interesting. Bell never lost his cool. Lucas would have to poke into that story more when he had time to ask additional questions.

  Lucas checked his pocket watch. He had to admit it was nice to wear his own clothing again, have his own items at his disposal. “I’m late. I must get downstairs to meet Sir Reginald.” He strode to the door. “Theodora promised to take all the young ladies and their mothers out for a picnic this afternoon in order to clear the house of them while I’m downstairs.”

  “Clever,” Bell replied, still putting away Lucas’s other set of clothing.

  Lucas opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

  “What do you intend to do about Miss Wharton?” Bell called after him.

  “I’ve no earthly idea,” Lucas called back.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Frances was pacing in Lord Clayton’s conservatory when a trio of young ladies from the party came traipsing through.

  “Miss Wharton, there you are. Have you heard?” the first young lady called.

  “Heard what?” Frances replied. She’d been enjoying the solitude of the pretty space, but she quickly realized she’d made a mistake coming here.

  “The Earl of Kendall is here,” the second young lady announced, her voice positively breathless.

  “Oh, I do hope he’ll be coming to dinner,” the third conjectured, practically squealing.

  That’s precisely why Frances had been pacing. She’d sent a note up to Lord Kendall’s room not an hour ago, but she’d yet to hear back. She’d skipped the picnic, somehow managing to convince Mama that she had a megrim. Seeing the three young ladies, obviously she wasn’t the only one who’d skipped the picnic.

  She’d defied her mother in sending that note. She was in the wrong, no question, but she’d carefully weighed the arguments for and against speaking to Lord Kendall and had decided she might never have such an opportunity again. Lord Kendall did not often attend the same events she did. She’d made up her mind soon after her encounter with Sir Reginald in the corridor. Besides, what her mother didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Frances did, however, promise herself that her talk with Lord Kendall would be the only time she broke her promise to her mother.

  Frances had been pacing for another reason as well. Sir Reginald had told her he was meeting with Lord Kendall at four o’clock, but she’d failed to ask where. The estate had over a hundred rooms. They could be in any one of them.

  She must practice patience. Too bad it had never been her strong suit. Even if she’d been able to find where Sir Reginald and Lord Kendall were meeting, it would hardly be well-mannered of her to barge in on their private conversation.

  Frances refused to be put off by the man, however, and Lord Kendall seemed like just the sort of arse who would put her off. Especially if he realized she was a female who wanted to discuss the Employment Bill with him.

  She’d taken a chance by signing her note with her initials. He would assume she was male, of course. A man like him would never guess a female would do such a thing. Of course, since she was an unmarried woman, it was inappropriate of her to request a meeting with him alone. But it was important enough to risk being accused of an impropriety. She would not remain in his company long. What she intended to say to him would be brief. She’d practiced it in the looking glass a hundred times during the Season, preparing for the day she might unexpectedly meet Lord Kendall at a ton event. Such an opportunity had nev
er presented itself, but she hadn’t forgotten her speech.

  “I heard something about Lord Kendall’s arrival,” Frances replied to the three young ladies, doing her best to seem as if she could not care any less.

  The first young lady stopped and stared at her. “You’re not excited?”

  “Should I be?” Frances asked, blinking at them innocently.

  “Have you seen the Earl of Kendall?” the second young lady asked.

  “No, why?” Frances ventured. “Have you?”

  The three ladies looked at each other. “Well, no, but the rumors are that he’s extremely handsome and of course he’s highly eligible.”

  Frances blinked at them some more. “Is that why you all are making such a fuss?”

  All three of them raised their eyebrows simultaneously and looked back and forth at one another with wide eyes as if they could not believe what they were hearing.

  “He’s not just supposed to be handsome, Frances. They say he looks like Adonis,” the first one said.

  “And he’s not just eligible,” the third lady said, “he’s second only to the Duke of Worthington in eligibility.”

  Frances nodded and did her best to pin a believable smile to her face. “Well, then, for your sakes, I do hope he makes it to dinner.”

  No use telling them they were excited over a horse’s ass. The ladies giggled and continued chatting and strolling down the path while Frances rolled her eyes. She slipped behind a nearby orange blossom tree to find much-needed solitude.

  The three debutantes may have dressed up their news in solicitude, but Frances knew better. They were being disingenuous. She knew as well as they did that she was hardly a debutante who would turn the head of the second most eligible man in the ton. She was passable pretty at best and her dowry was a pittance. Even if the Earl of Kendall wasn’t a horse’s backside, she was hardly planning to compete with the lovely rich girls with whom she’d just spoken to garner his attention. Not to mention Lord Kendall was the last man on earth she’d want to marry. For heaven’s sake. She was more likely to step on his foot than flirt with him.

  Besides, the man she had been flirting with recently just happened to look like Adonis as well. No doubt Lucas would make the Earl of Kendall seem like a troll. During the Season, Frances had determined that other young ladies tended to inflate the looks of many of the bachelors based on the size of their pocketbooks and the prestige of their titles.

  She’d been told many an eligible gentleman was exceedingly handsome only to see him and wonder what the fuss was about. The only thing she wanted from the Earl of Kendall was a minute or two of his time. Only the longer she went without hearing back from him, the more anxious she became. She had hoped to hear back before he met with Sir Reginald. She’d sneaked from her room, leaving Albina to pretend as if she were still sleeping off her megrim. She’d asked the maid to come find her if a reply arrived from Lord Kendall.

  Frances was tempted to sneak down to the servants’ hall to find Lucas. It was a ludicrous notion, but she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to see him again, even sooner than tomorrow morning. The happiest hour of her day was the time she spent with him in the library. At the moment she was a bundle of nerves and seeing him would calm her. She knew it.

  A twig snapped behind her and she turned to see Albina coming down the path toward her. Frances’s stomach lurched.

  “Albina!” she called, waving from behind the orange blossom tree. “I’m here.”

  Albina’s head swiveled until her gaze alighted on Frances and then she nodded, picked up her skirts, and hurried over. She didn’t appear to have a note in her hand.

  “Did he send a reply?” Frances blurted, wringing her hands.

  Albina shook her head. “No, Miss. I’m afraid not.”

  Frances’s stomach lurched back to its original location. “Oh,” she said, attempting and failing to hide the disappointment in her tone.

  “But I think I can help, Miss,” Albina continued.

  “How?” Frances asked, searching the maid’s face.

  “I was talking to one of the other maids downstairs,” Albina said, “and I learned where the Earl of Kendall’s bedchamber is.”

  Frances’s eyes went wide. “Truly?” She wanted to jump for joy. There was no way the man would be able to escape her if she staked out his bedchamber. “Albina, you darling, that’s perfect. Where is it?”

  “On the second floor, the sixth door on the right at the top of the staircase,” Albina replied, a proud smile on her face.

  “You’re certain?”

  “That’s the direction Lord Clayton’s maid gave me,” Albina replied.

  “Thank you, Albina.” Frances lifted her skirts and started off down the mulched path toward the front of the conservatory. “I intend to go there immediately and stay until he returns.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dressed impeccably as the Earl of Kendall, Lucas made his way to Clayton’s blue drawing room at precisely four o’clock. The knight had replied to Lucas’s invitation, ensuring he wouldn’t miss it. Bell’s question continued to ring in his head. “What do you intend to do about Miss Wharton?” What did he intend to do about Miss Wharton, indeed.

  He would have to write her back of course, but he’d no clue what he would say. He obviously had two choices. He could accept a meeting with her and confess all, but risk her eternal hatred. Or he could reply that he didn’t have the time for a meeting at present. She wouldn’t be pleased with that answer, but she already had a bad opinion of him. He doubted it could get much worse. It truly came down to whether he was ready to admit to the lies he’d already told her and hope there was some possible way he could explain it all to her. Even if she was forgiving about his pretending to be a servant, he doubted she’d be as forgiving when she learned she’d kissed a man who was working against her. Blast. Why the devil did this entire thing have to be so complicated?

  He grabbed the door handle to the blue salon and took a deep breath. He would decide what to do about Frances later. At the moment he had a knight to persuade.

  Sir Reginald was already sitting in the room when Lucas entered.

  “Good to see you, Sir Reginald,” Lucas intoned, striding toward the older man. The door closed behind him.

  “Likewise,” Sir Reginald replied, standing to greet Lucas.

  They shook hands.

  Tea was being served by Clayton’s servants, but Lucas marched directly to the sideboard. “Would you care for something stronger, Sir Reginald?”

  “By all means,” was the knight’s reply.

  Lucas splashed brandy into two glasses and made his way back toward the seating arrangement in the center of the room. Sir Reginald sat on the settee in front of the window while Lucas took a seat on a chair at a right angle.

  “Thank you for meeting with me,” Lucas said. He used the opportunity to take a good look at the man. The lines near Sir Reginald’s eyes were well-defined as were similar lines in his forehead and at the sides of his mouth. He was balding. His shoulders sloped. There was no doubt about it. Sir Reginald was not a handsome specimen of a man, but he wasn’t entirely repellent either. A lady could do worse, he supposed. Even as he had the thought, Lucas realized how awful it sounded in his head. If he were Frances, would he want to give himself for life to someone who could charitably be described as not entirely repellant?

  “I must admit, I was surprised to receive your note, Kendall,” Sir Reginald began. “I didn’t realize you would be here.”

  “I hadn’t intended upon coming,” Lucas replied. “My plans changed at the last minute.” At least that much was true. He much preferred to be telling the truth for once.

  “Clayton says you don’t intend to stay long,” Sir Reginald continued.

  “That’s correct, which is why I’m pleased you could meet with me this afternoon.”

  “My pleasure,” the knight said, taking a tiny sip of his brandy before setting the glass aside on the table next
to the settee.

  “It’s too bad you’re not staying,” Sir Reginald continued, “the party has been quite a crush. The Prince Regent is coming on Monday.”

  “I heard,” Lucas replied, “you must give him my best.”

  “I will,” Sir Reginald said, “but you may miss other happenings as well. For instance, I just might find a bride here this week.”

  The words hit Lucas like a punch to the gut. He forced himself to keep his face blank as he asked the question he already knew the answer to. “Really? Who is the fortunate lady?”

  “Well.” Sir Reginald puffed up his chest and smoothed his hand down the front of his plum-colored coat. “Nothing’s settled yet, you understand, but I’ve become partial to Miss Frances Wharton.”

  “Baron Winfield’s daughter?” Lucas continued, biting the inside of his cheek, hard.

  “Yes, his eldest. She’s a bit headstrong, apparently fancies herself knowledgeable about politics.” He chuckled condescendingly, rolling his eyes. “Can you imagine? But it’s nothing a good husband shouldn’t be able to quell. She’s a pretty enough chit.”

  “I hear Winfield is in debt. Are you certain there’s a dowry there?” It was a horrible thing to say, but Lucas couldn’t help himself. And quell? Had the man truly just said quell? He clearly didn’t know Frances if he thought he would be able to quell her opinion on politics.

  Sir Reginald waved a hand in the air. “Makes no difference to me. In fact, I’ve reason to believe that’s why the family’s interested. No doubt I’d be looking at a much older bride if a hefty dowry was my aim. I already have more money than I know what to do with.” The knight had the audacity to wink. Lucas quelled the urge to punch him in the jaw.

  “You’re certain she’s interested?” Lucas asked, narrowing his eyes on the older man. He shouldn’t have asked that question either, but he couldn’t stop himself once more.

  “I don’t see how she couldn’t be,” Sir Reginald said, coughing into a handkerchief he’d pulled from his lace-covered sleeve. “The chit doesn’t have many options.”