The Footman and I - Valerie Bowman Page 0,52
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.”
“I’ll send Albina if we do need something.” She’d already turned and was making her way toward the opposite side of the floor to find her mother’s room.
She got nearly as far as the staircase when she thought to thank the valet. But when she turned around, he was gone.
She turned back toward her bedchamber and made haste. Dear God. She hoped Mama was all right. She couldn’t help but wonder if the heavens were paying her back for attempting to break her promise to her mother. No. She shook her head. That was a ludicrous idea. Wasn’t it?
She’d had to leave Lord Kendall’s door without speaking to him, but he was still somewhere in this house and she would find him before he left if it was the last thing she did. In the meantime, she would just have to wait and see if he deigned to answer her note.
Chapter Nineteen
Lucas made his way toward the library the next morning with a mix of trepidation and anticipation coursing through him. He wanted to see Frances. He wanted to talk to her, not just about politics. He wanted to ask her what she thought about a variety of things like steeple chases, and Christmastide, and children. He wanted to hear more of the reasons she disliked the ton. After all, they were many of the same reasons he did. She was so honest and open and didn’t seem to care what the world thought of her. Everyone could use more of that in their character. God knew he could.
Lucas had been disgusted last night, thinking of Frances married to Sir Reginald. The only thing that comforted Lucas was the fact that she’d clearly decided she would not marry the man, despite her mother’s wishes. Of course, if her father demanded it, she would have to go through with the match. Lucas could only hope Baron Winfield would take his daughter’s desires into account.
Lucas had been unable to sleep last night for several reasons. He’d nearly stopped breathing when he saw Frances outside his bedchamber door yesterday afternoon. He’d immediately turned in the opposite direction and nearly sprinted away. He’d gone up the servant’s staircase to Bell’s room and sent the marquess down to lure Frances away from his door. It had been yet another lie, but Bell had been happy enough to deliver it. He’d never met Frances before, and he doubted their paths would cross again during the house party.
At least the ploy had