worked, and Lucas had been able to return to his room to fetch the livery he needed to change back into. But what if Frances was waiting outside his door when he woke up this morning? He’d decided it would be safer to sneak up to his room on the fourth floor with the other servants where Lucas, the footman, slept. At least there he had little chance of being waylaid by Frances looking to confront him about the Employment Bill.
He’d spent the remainder of the night trying to decide how he would handle the note Frances had written him. He’d finally decided the safest thing would be to write back and tell her he needed to return to London immediately, but he hoped to make her acquaintance one day.
It was the cowardly thing to do, but it would serve two purposes: first, it would keep her from an inappropriate meeting with an eligible gentleman that she never should have requested to begin with. Lucas doubted she’d considered the consequences that might occur if such a meeting were actually to take place and they were seen together alone. Second, it would keep them both from an ugly scene in the middle of Clayton’s home. If he were to meet with her and confess all, no doubt such a scene would be the result.
Lucas would tell her the truth. Someday. But for now, he needed to extricate himself from the complicated charade he had orchestrated with as few repercussions as possible. Besides, it was not as if Frances was dreaming of a future with Lucas, the footman. That would be impossible and they both knew it. Her heart might sting for a bit (as would his), but they would move on, eventually. And he would never make a mistake like this again.
He was still contemplating the bittersweet moment he would see her for the last time when he entered the library. She was already seated at the table near the windows smiling at him, her face aglow with happiness. He immediately imagined that same sweet face crumpled in confusion and anger. The inevitable result if he told her the truth.
“There you are,” she called. “I was beginning to wonder if you were coming this morning.”
He forced himself to paste a smile on his face. “Good morning, my lady.”
“Why weren’t you serving dinner last night?” she asked.
He was prepared for that question. “Lord Clayton assigned me elsewhere for the evening.”
“Hurry with the logs,” she continued, clearly accepting that excuse. “I have a great deal to tell you today. I’m not certain where to begin.”
He quickly finished his chore and made his way over to the table. “What do you have to tell me?” he asked, hating himself for being deceitful. He slid into the seat next to her.
Her eyes were bright with mischief. “For one thing, Lord Kendall is here. He didn’t attend dinner last night, but there is no doubt he’s here.”
“How do you know?” Lucas asked, his brow furrowing. Had word of his arrival already got out at the party? If so, he would have to keep his head down.
“Sir Reginald of all people told me. I wonder why Kendall didn’t come to dinner.”
“Perhaps he’s averse to large ton gatherings,” Lucas conjectured, knowing that was precisely why Lord Kendall didn’t come to dinner. That and the fact that Frances would have recognized him immediately.
“Perhaps.” She shrugged. “But I picture him as more of a man who likes to be the center of attention.”
Lucas succumbed to a coughing fit. Frances had to pound him on the back. When it was over, his eyes were watering profusely. “My apologies, my lady.”
“Are you quite all right?” Concern was etched into her features.
“Yes, I’m fine. What else were you going to tell me?” he asked, purposely changing the subject.
She tipped her head to the side. “I had the strangest interaction with a man who claimed to be Lord Copperpot’s valet. Do you know anything about him?”
“Lord Copperpot’s valet?” Lucas repeated, tugging at his neckcloth.
“Yes, he found me in the corridor last night waiting for Lord Kendall. He told me my mother had turned her ankle.”
Lucas did his best to feign concern. “Is she all right?”
“That’s just it. When I went to Mother’s bedchamber, she was perfectly fine. She hadn’t turned her ankle at all. Isn’t that strange?”
Lucas tugged at his neckcloth. “Perhaps he mistook you for someone else.”
Frances shook her head. “I don’t think so. He specifically called me by name, and he knew