The Footman and I: The Footmen’s Club Trilogy

by Bowman, Valerie

  The grin the knight gave him revealed crooked, yellowed teeth. Lucas shuddered for Frances’s sake. No wonder Frances thought all the men of the ton were pompous, boring asses. This man was sitting here talking about her future as if she had no say in it.

  “I see,” Lucas replied woodenly. He had to change the subject before he knocked the man unconscious. He shook his head. “At any rate, the reason I asked you here was to—”

  “Allow me to guess.” The knight gave him an obsequious smile. “You want to discuss the Employment Bill.”

  Lucas grinned at him and took a swig of brandy. “However did you guess, Sir Reginald?”

  The knight sighed and waved his hand in the air again. “Seems that’s all you want to discuss with anyone these days, Kendall. You’re garnering quite the reputation for being preoccupied with that law.”

  “My apologies if my conversation has turned monotonous.” Lucas gave the knight a tight smile. He had to tread carefully with the man. One rude word from him could send Sir Reginald and the entire group of Royalists who’d yet to declare their intentions as to the vote scattering to the opposition. “Have you had any more thoughts on the matter since the last time we spoke?”

  Sir Reginald settled into his chair and ventured another sip of brandy. “Honestly, I have not. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth.”

  Lucas nodded. “Fair enough. If you haven’t yet made up your mind, I am happy to discuss the finer points of the law.”

  “I know you are, Kendall, and that’s the problem,” Sir Reginald said with an impatient sigh.

  Lucas furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you’re more interested in the bloody details of the law, while I’m more interested in the—” he waved his hand in a circle, “—details of, say, what’s in it for me if I vote the way you’d like me to.” Sir Reginald’s obsequious smile returned.

  Lucas clenched his jaw. He was not naïve enough to believe these types of discussions didn’t happen when it came to politics, but it still made his stomach turn when he encountered it.

  “One would hope you’d vote according to your conscience,” he replied, doing his best to keep his temper under check. “As I said, I’m happy to discuss the points—”

  “One would hope, wouldn’t one, Kendall?” Sir Reginald turned up his nose. “But I’m telling you that I’d be more interested in some sort of a bargain.”

  “What were you thinking, Sir Reginald?” Lucas asked, merely to have the pleasure of knowing what exactly the man wanted from him. “You’ve already said you have more money than you know what to do with.”

  “I don’t want money, Kendall.” A dark gleam shined in the knight’s eye. “I want something much more elusive.”

  “And that is?” Lucas prodded.

  The knight rolled his eyes. “Power, of course.”

  Lucas frowned. “Power? What could I possibly do to—?”

  The knight plucked at his sleeve. “Everyone knows you’re thick as thieves with the Duke of Worthington.”

  Lucas forced himself to keep his temper in check. He clenched his jaw more tightly and blew out a deep breath instead of doing what he wanted to do, which was to explode from his chair with equal parts disgust and affront. “You’re thick as thieves with the Prince Regent,” he managed to ground out.

  Sir Reginald tossed a hand in the air and chuckled. “Georgie doesn’t have any power. Everyone knows that. He’s a regent for Christ’s sake. We pat him on the head and tell him he’s a good boy and he plans another dinner party and builds another palace. No. I want to be the Chancellor of the Duchy and I’ll need the vote of every duke in Parliament if I’m to win.”

  Lucas stared at the man as if he’d lost his mind. Powerful didn’t begin to describe the position. The Chancellor of the Duchy administered the estates and rents of the Duchy of Lancaster, which was essentially a great deal of the Sovereign’s income. The Chancellor of the Duchy was one of the most senior positions in Parliament.

  Lucas finally found his voice. “You want to be the Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster?”

  “Precisely.”

  It was all Lucas could do to keep from standing up and striding out of the room without a backward glance at Sir Reginald. But he needed more information first. “What if I’m unable to convince Worthington to vote for you?”

  The knight pursed his lips unpleasantly. “Then I will be unable to vote for the Employment Bill. And more importantly, I’ll be unable to convince my friends to vote for it.”

  So this was why Sir Reginald had refused to pick a side all these months. He’d been holding out for the perfect opportunity to spring this trap on Lucas.

  “I see.” Lucas stood. He needed to get away from the man immediately. “I plan to be here two more nights. I’ll give you my answer before I leave.”

  “Excellent,” Sir Reginald replied. “I look forward to hearing your decision.”

  Lucas made his way back to his bedchamber on the second floor with ground-devouring strides. Every few paces he was tempted to stop and punch his fist through a wall. His regard for Clayton and the well-being of his home was the only thing that kept him from it.

  The Royal Navy had been a place filled with honor and dignity. Yes, he’d seen unfair acts, but there was also pride and accountability. There was equity and there was loyalty. Politics were completely different.

  The world he found himself in since inheriting the title was a cesspool of secrets and lies. His brother had the stomach for it. Lucas did not. Sir Reginald and his scheming ilk made Lucas sick to his stomach and the thought of that man touching Frances made his skin crawl. She deserved so much better than the bloated knight.

  Lucas took the steps up the grand staircase two at a time, thankful that the foyer was empty at the moment. As soon as he made it to the second-floor landing, he turned to the right to head toward his room and stopped dead in his tracks.

  Standing directly across from his bedchamber door, with her arms folded across her chest, was none other than Frances.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Frances had been standing in front of the Earl of Kendall’s bedchamber door for the better part of a quarter hour. She felt perfectly silly and was entirely aware of how inappropriate she was being, but she no longer cared. This wasn’t about her reputation or what the guests at the house party thought of her. She was doing this for the working classes, the maids like Albina and the footmen like Lucas. They deserved better than what the Employment Bill would give them. Even if it didn’t change the outcome of the vote, Frances intended to tell the law’s creator exactly what she thought of his self-serving nonsense.

  She’d already come up with an excuse if anyone were to happen by and see her outside Lord Kendall’s door. She would pretend she was horribly lost, and had been certain she was waiting for her friend Mary Montgomery. Mary was one of the ladies at the party who she liked a great deal. Of course, Mary’s room wouldn’t be on this side of the floor, but that’s where the part about pretending to be lost came in. After all, who could possibly blame a poor young woman for her confusion on a floor with so very many doors that looked exactly alike?

  The pacing she’d begun in the conservatory earlier continued in the corridor outside Lord Kendall’s room. She was mentally rehearsing her speech over and over. She intended to tell him what a money-loving, self-serving, classist ass he was. Had he ever stopped to consider the lives of the poor? Had he ever looked at his own valet, or his own cook and wondered what their lives must be like? Had he ever considered how his bill would make things more difficult for them? No. No, he had not and the reason he had not was because he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anyone but himself and his lot, the men who were in charge of everything and always had been. The men who made the rules for everyone else but ensured those rules benefitted only themselves. She would inform Lord Kendall that he was the lowest of the low for proposing that law, and she hoped when he laid his head on
his pillow at night that the suffering of every single one of the downtrodden people he’d be making things worse for would keep him awake as it should.

  She nodded her head determinedly. Oh, she was quite certain he’d bumble and fumble and come up with some asinine excuse as to why she shouldn’t worry her pretty little head over such things. He’d give her a condescending smile that would reveal yellowed teeth and foul breath. Adonis, her foot! No doubt his hygiene was worse than Sir Reginald’s. He was probably a bloated, bleating windbag who looked as if he’d crawled out from under a bottle of liquor, most likely an expensive bottle, but that hardly mattered.

  She’d been posted in front of his door for no more than a few minutes when Mary’s older sister, Lady Julianna, came floating up the staircase. She was wearing a lovely white gown with a gauzy, embroidered overskirt and looked as if she’d just stepped off the pages of a lady’s fashion periodical. Frances watched in horror as the engaged woman glanced her way, took another quick look, and proceeded to glide toward her.

  Frances bit her lip and looked in both directions. It would be awkward to use her excuse that she was waiting for Mary, but what other choice did she have?

  “Oh, Miss Wharton, not you, too?” Lady Julianna said as soon as she’d come within earshot.

  Frances blinked and glanced in the opposite direction. Lady Julianna had said her name, but was it possible she’d been mistaken? There was no one behind Frances, however, and she was forced to turn back and face Lady Julianna as that woman came to stand directly in front of her.

  “‘Not me,’ too?” Frances echoed, her brow furrowed.

  Lady Julianna gave her a conspiratorial grin, stepped forward, and looped her arm around Frances’s. She tugged her gently into a walk beside her. They headed toward the lady’s end of the corridor.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t know you were standing in front of the Earl of Kendall’s bedchamber door?” Lady Julianna whispered as soon as they’d taken a few steps.

  Frances felt herself blanch. She was torn between denying it and asking how Lady Julianna happened to know which door was his.

  “It’s… I… Well… How did you know?” Frances finally blurted. Very well. She wasn’t a particularly good actress, was she?

  Lady Julianna’s conspiratorial grin widened, and she glanced behind them to ensure no one else had entered the corridor. “I’d heard he’d arrived. It’s all the other ladies are talking about today. The location of his room is a much-discussed topic downstairs.”

  “I’d gathered the ladies were excited,” Frances agreed, feeling a bit ill to learn that Lord Kendall’s bedchamber was a topic of anyone’s conversation. Why, she’d been fortunate that she hadn’t run into other young ladies hovering about for much different reasons.

  “You’re not excited?” Lady Julianna gave her a skeptical glance.

  Frances let out a long sigh. There was no help for it. “There’s every reason you won’t believe me, Lady Julianna, but I fear I must tell you the truth or risk you thinking the worst of me.”

  Lady Julianna’s sparkling laughter filled the space around them. “Why, if you’re willing to tell it, I’m more than willing to hear it, Miss Wharton.”

  Frances quickly discarded a few introductions to the subject before deciding to be as direct as possible. “I know it’s difficult to believe, but I want to speak to Lord Kendall about his Employment Bill. The one’s he’s presented to the House of Lords.”

  Lady Julianna’s eyes widened, but ultimately, the look on her face could only be described as…admiration?

  “I must admit that was the last thing I thought you’d say,” Lady Julianna replied, still gently pulling Frances along beside her. They’d only moved a few paces, but they were still headed toward the lady’s end of the corridor.

  Frances winced and bit her lip. “Do you believe me?”

  Lady Julianna patted her hand. “Absolutely, I do.”

  This time Frances’s eyes went wide. “You do?”

  Lady Julianna laughed softly. “Of course I do. Who would make up something so unexpected?”

  Frances expelled a relieved sigh, her shoulders slumping. “Thank heavens. It is the truth, I swear it.”

  “Of course it is,” Lady Julianna replied, “but you must tell me, what do you intend to say to Lord Kendall about the law? Now I’m intrigued.”

  “Do you know anything about it, Lady Julianna?” Frances prompted.

  “I’m afraid I don’t.” She shook her head.

  “Well, it’s a ghastly bill that will hurt the poor.”

  Lady Julianna sucked in her breath. She stopped walking for a moment and looked squarely at Frances. “I’m surprised to hear that.”

  “Why?” Frances asked, frowning again.

  Lady Julianna resumed walking. Still clutching Frances’s arm, she graced her with another lovely smile. “I’ve met the Earl of Kendall and he seemed like a decent man to me.”

  Frances couldn’t help but stick her nose in the air. “Well, he isn’t. I’ve never met him but believe me, he’s awful. I’m convinced he’s pudgy and hideous-looking too.”

  Lady Julianna’s soft laughter followed. “Who told you that?”

  Frances gave Lady Julianna a guilty smile. “I’m only guessing based on the contents of his law.”

  “Well, I’ll leave you to continue to wait for him if you really feel you must, but take care. I suggest you wait over by the chair on the opposite wall. It’ll provide you with more of an excuse if someone else happens past.”

  Frances glanced behind them. Indeed, there was a chair nearly directly across the corridor from Lord Kendall’s door. Earlier, she’d been too preoccupied with practicing her speech to notice it.

  “That’s an excellent idea, Lady Julianna. Thank you.”

  Lady Julianna dropped her arm and turned to face her. “I’ve been worried about you, Miss Wharton.”

  “Worried? About me?” Frances pointed at herself and blinked. She’d no idea until today that Lady Julianna knew her name, let alone would worry about her.

  “Yes,” Lady Julianna replied softly. “I’ve seen you at dinner. I’m afraid your mother is doing her best to match you with Sir Reginald, and I don’t think you two would make each other very happy.”

  Frances nodded. “I couldn’t agree with you more, Lady Julianna.”

  Lady Julianna searched her face. “Sir Reginald’s favorite subject is himself, while you seem to me to be an introspective, intelligent young woman. I doubt you’d enjoy a life listening to his dull stories.”

  Tears burned the backs of Frances’s eyes. How kind of Lady Julianna to say something Frances needed so much to hear. “You know, for so long I’ve felt as if I was being disloyal to my mother for not immediately seeing his good qualities…or trying to at least.”

  Lady Julianna gave her a sympathetic smile and patted her hand again. “Take care, Miss Wharton. I know we ladies don’t always have a choice in matters of the heart, but I would hate to see you miserable. You’ve always been so kind and friendly to my sister.”

  “Likewise, your sister has been nothing but kind to me as well,” Frances murmured.

  Lady Julianna drifted away toward the end of the corridor, but not before she waved and said something that Frances was almost certain was, “If Kendall has any sense, he’ll scoop you up the moment he sees you on his doorstep. The man’s in want of a good wife, you know.”

  Frances shook her head. No. She couldn’t possibly have heard the woman correctly. And besides, even if that was what Lady Julianna had said, the last man she wanted to ‘scoop her up’ was Lord Kendall. She shuddered. No, indeed. She must return to her watch post and recite her speech in preparation for her confrontation with the odious man.

  Taking Lady Julianna’s helpful advice, Frances made her way over to the chair across the hallway from Lord Kendall’s door. She decided to stand beside the chair. That way, she’d be prepared for Kendall’s arrival. He wouldn’t have a chance to slip in
side.

  Nearly ten minutes later, she was beginning to have doubts as to whether Lord Kendall actually intended to return to his room before dinner. For all she knew, he could be having drinks with Lord Clayton in his study. Perhaps she should go in search of that room next. She’d just discarded that notion and crossed her arms over her chest when a young man came bounding up the stairs. He was half a floor away and she didn’t get a good look at him, but her first thought was that it was Lucas. She was just about to call out to him when she realized it couldn’t be Lucas for two reasons. First, he was wearing the clothing of a gentleman, and second, he immediately turned and strode off quite quickly in the opposite direction. Lucas would have greeted her.

  She pressed the balls of her hands to her eyes. Dear heavens, she must be tired. Her eyes were playing tricks on her. Perhaps she should actually sit. She lowered herself into the chair and had been sitting there silently for several more minutes when a man’s voice called out to her from behind.

  She turned toward the lady’s side of the hallway to see a handsome tall blond man striding toward her. He was dressed in livery, but not Lord Clayton’s livery.

  “Miss Wharton,” he called for the second time.

  “Yes?” she said, watching intently as the man approached.

  “I’m Mr. Baxter,” the man said, “Lord Copperpot’s valet. I happened to be in the kitchens a few moments ago when a maid came down asking for a poultice for Lady Winfield.”

  “Lady Winfield is my mother,” Frances replied, worry making her chest tight.

  “Yes, Miss Wharton, that’s why I came looking for you. Apparently, your mother slipped and turned her ankle in the gardens earlier. She’s abed at the moment, but she’s asked for you.”

  “Oh, dear.” Frances stood and lifted her skirts. “I shall go to her immediately.”

  “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.”