if he was trying to control his temper. “All of it?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “Everything.”
Lucas’s next words came through clenched teeth. “And Sir Reginald, that ass, doesn’t care that you don’t have a dowry.”
She nodded again. “Not only that, apparently he’s agreed to pay my parents a significant sum.”
Lucas cursed under his breath. His nostrils flared. “So, he’s buying you?”
She let her chin drop to her chest. She’d expected Lucas would be angry, but she hadn’t guessed his words would be quite so harsh. “I know how awful it sounds. I have no choice.”
He paced away from her, his hands on his hips. “When is the wedding to be?” he ground out.
She took another steadying breath. “As soon as possible. The sooner we wed, the sooner my father will get the purse.”
Lucas bit the inside of his cheek and cursed again. “Just to gamble it away again, no doubt.”
Tears burned the backs of her eyes. “Probably, but what else are we to do? I must think about my family. They’ll be destitute without this match.”
“Your father should be thrown in debtor’s prison,” Lucas growled.
Again, she fought the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. “That’s not particularly helpful, Lucas. Debtor’s prison provides no options for men like my father.”
Footsteps thudded on the staircase above them.
Lucas paced away from her again. “Blast it, Frances. What if . . .?”
“‘What if’ what?” she asked brokenly. Tears sliding down her cheeks. “Please don’t say what if you and I were to marry. I cannot marry a footman, Lucas. Unless you happen to have a secret fortune.”
He clenched his teeth and pressed his closed fist against his forehead. “Damn it,” he ground out, drawing out each word.
She wiped the tears away with her fingers. “I’m sorry, Lucas. I didn’t want things to end this way. It’s not what I prefer.” She swallowed again. “But I’m resigned to it.”
More footsteps.
He swiveled on his heel so quickly he nearly knocked her over. He gently cupped her shoulders to keep her steady. “What if things were different?” he blurted, searching her face. “What if there was another way?”
She shook her head, still meeting his gaze. “What way? What are you talking about?”
“Do you love me, Frances?” He squeezed her shoulders gently. His heart was in his eyes.
Her tears were falling steadily now. She swiped them away with the backs of her hands. “I do love you, Lucas. But what choice do I have?”
The thud of footsteps on the stairs above them increased. Lucas dropped his hands to the sides. “The servants are coming down to prepare to serve dinner. If we stay here any longer, we’re certain to be seen. I cannot explain now. It’s not the right time. Will you do me one last favor?”
“Anything.” Her voice broke. She swallowed yet another painful lump in her throat.
“Will you meet me in the library tomorrow morning? There’s something important I must tell you.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lucas rapped three more times on Bell’s bedchamber door. The marquess wasn’t answering. Where the hell was he at this hour? He had to be inside. He hadn’t been down in the servants’ hall earlier when Lucas had gone looking for him. It had been a pure coincidence that Lucas had been there when Frances had arrived to find him.
Lucas rapped on the door for a third time, harder and longer this time. He didn’t want to wake the other sleeping servants, but he desperately needed to speak with Bell before morning.
Finally, Lucas heard mumbling and shuffling from inside the room. Several moments later, a sleepy-looking Bell clad only in a pair of no doubt hastily pulled-on breeches ripped open the door.
“Kendall?” he groaned, “I mean, Lucas, get in here.” He yanked Lucas none-too-gently into the room by the scruff of the neckcloth and shut the door behind him with a loud thud.
Lucas stepped into the darkened room. No candles were lit, but a full moon shone outside the window illuminating a great portion of the space, including the desk by the window. He strode over to it and sat on its edge.
“My apologies for coming so late,” Lucas began.
Eyes closed, Bell ran a hand over his face and sniffed. “What bloody time is it?”
“Two o’clock,” Lucas admitted.
“In the morning? That’s bloody ridiculous.”
Lucas shrugged. “When I was in the Navy, I used to stand watch at two o’clock.”
Bell groaned. “Well, neither of us is in the Navy at the moment, are we? I, for one, find this a