And perhaps it did.
“Well, that’s because I am—” How exactly was he planning on finishing that sentence, anyway?
She waited, her jaw suspended in mid-chew, expectant.
“Because…” he said slowly, his mind racing for an answer. Out of thin air, one came to him. “I’m valet to a duke.”
Now he’d done it. He didn’t even employ a valet, seeing no need for one as he managed to turn himself out decently well. Hopefully, she wouldn’t ask about his duties.
A little frown pulled at the corners of her mouth. “And you have to talk as fancy as all that?”
In for a penny… “My father was his father’s valet, so I was raised around such speech.”
This answer only confused her further, her crinkled eyebrows said. “The duke allowed your father to marry?”
Oh, how the lies kept stacking up. In for a pound… “Yes.”
She resumed chewing her scone. She might be young and quiet and prefer to blend into the background, but he would be stupid to take this woman for a fool. Scone eaten, she patted her mouth. “What’s it like working for a duke?” she asked, casual but curious. Yet her voice held a small note. It sounded very similar to distaste.
“Do you harbor a grievance against dukes?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Not so much. It’s just that nobs are so high and mighty, you know? They can’t seem to help themselves.”
Well, wasn’t he receiving an education. “Have you met many nobs?” He’d never used that word in his life.
“As a matter of fact, I have.”
“Elucidate,” he said, with a firmness that sounded no small bit duke-like.
And judging by the cant of her head and the deepening curiosity in her eyes, Miss Tait had caught it. She was just opening her mouth to possibly call him the liar he was when a voice rang out, “Lawks be, Nell.”
Both their gazes swung right to find a young lady standing at the table. Well, she wasn’t a lady in the strictest sense, with her broad Cockney accent and dress cut an inch low enough to reveal quite a bit of her generous bosom. He and Miss Tait had been so focused on each other they’d entirely missed her approach.
“Is this your—” he began.
“Friend,” Miss Tait finished for him, challenge in her eyes.
Right.He’d been about to say maid. That was him put in his place.
“Miss Birdwell,” said Miss Tait to her friend, “may I introduce you to Mr. Kendall?”
“Oh, sure,” said Miss Birdwell, saucy smile curling up one side of her mouth.
“A pleasure,” said Lucas, rising and giving a shallow bow.
Both women stared at him as if he’d sprouted another head. He took it that men in their social circle didn’t bow.
“Well,” said Miss Birdwell, brow lifted, “ain’t you a right fancy one?” Her gaze shifted toward Miss Tait. “Where’d you find him?” She gave him a quick up-and-down assessment that seemed to like what it saw. “And does he have a friend?”
“Oh, it was definitely him who found me yesterday,” said Miss Tait.
In an instant, Miss Birdwell’s eyes narrowed with accusation. “What are you doin’ stridin’ about on your big, fancy horse and splashin’ women with mud on the street?” she demanded, indignant on her friend’s behalf. “You look like you’d have better manners, but that goes to show you can’t tell nothin’ about a person by lookin’ at ’em.”
Lucas flicked a glance toward Miss Tait. She simply sat quiet during her friend’s dressing down of him. He realized two things.
She agreed with her friend.
And he deserved it.
