The Footman and I - Valerie Bowman Page 0,3

Clayton perked up. “There are few things I enjoy more than an experiment, and I just so happen to be about to send the invitations to my annual country house party.” Clayton’s words were stated casually as if he hadn’t just added a large helping of kindling to the fire that was already burning brightly with insanity.

“Experiment?” Lucas repeated numbly, blinking.

Bell snapped his fingers. “Your house party would be perfect, Clayton.”

“Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait.” Lucas, who sat between Bell and Worth, pushed against each of his friends’ shoulders with both hands. He needed to sober up quickly. His friends had clearly lost their minds, even Bell, who was normally the level-headed one when things went too far afield. “A house party isn’t going to change my identity. Ladies of the ton will still know who I am at a house party.”

“He makes a good point,” Clayton replied, sloshing more ale down his throat. Thank heavens, Clayton wasn’t taking this discussion seriously, after all.

“Not if you invite only the debutantes from this Season,” Bell replied, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And not if you create the right circumstances.”

Lucas sucked in a deep breath and pushed his mug out of reach. “The ladies may not know me, but some of their mothers do. More than one of them has already been to court with an older daughter making her debut.” There. That was common sense, which this discussion was sorely lacking.

“That’s where the right circumstances come in,” Bell replied, crossing his arms over his chest, the half-smile still riding his lips.

Worth scratched at the dark, day-old stubble on his chin and smiled an even wider, much more charming smile than Bell’s. “By God, I think you’re onto something.”

“I refuse to wear a mask if that’s what you’re thinking. That’s positively medieval,” Lucas declared, shaking his head.

“Not a mask,” Bell replied. He settled back in his chair and plucked at his lower lip, a gesture he often made when he was plotting something.

“Or a costume, either,” Lucas continued. He pushed his mug farther away for good measure. More drinking would only make this particular situation more insane.

“Not a costume…precisely.” Bell exchanged a positively roguish grin with Worth.

“By God, I’m going to have the best time watching this,” Worth added, nodding.

“Watching what?” Clayton’s nose was scrunched in confusion. “I don’t know what in the devil either of you is talking about any longer.”

“I’m talking about Lucas here pretending to be a servant,” Bell replied, still grinning like an arse.

Lucas blinked. “A servant?” Of all the things he’d expected his friend to say, those two words had been at the bottom of the list.

“Yes. It’s perfect,” Worth added, nodding.

Lucas turned to him and stared at the duke as if he’d lost his mind. “Perfect? Me? Being a servant? How is that perfect?”

“That still doesn’t fix the problem of the ladies’ mothers recognizing him. Even if he’s dressed as a servant,” Clayton pointed out.

“Ah, but it does,” Bell replied. “That’s the beauty of it. Most people don’t look at servants. They don’t pay attention to the majority of things beyond what they need and want. My training as a spy has taught me much about the human failure to notice details. I’d be willing to bet that not one of those ladies of the ton will look twice at Kendall if he’s dressed as a servant and performing servants’ duties. He’ll be wearing livery, knee breeches, and a powdered wig, after all.”

“And it has the added advantage that a servant will be in a particularly excellent position to discover how a lady truly behaves,” Worth added, shoving his long dark hair off his forehead with his fingers. “I’d wager she’s at her best when addressing a potential bridegroom and at her worst when addressing a servant. God knows, I’ve seen it time and again from my mother.”

“You’re both truly mad, you know that?” Lucas replied. He was becoming genuinely alarmed. Did his friends actually believe this madness would work? They couldn’t possibly.

“I dunno,” Clayton replied, tugging at his cravat. “But it sounds like quite a lark to me. I’m perfectly willing to offer my upcoming house party as a venue for such an experiment.”

“You’ve gone mad too, then,” Lucas declared. Bloody hell. He’d lost his final ally to madness.

“Think about it,” Bell said, turning his attention to Lucas. “It has the potential to give you precisely what you want. An unencumbered look at the latest crop of debutantes behaving precisely