She nodded vigorously and looked at Lucas, James, the other two footmen, and Mr. Humbolt in turn. “Please accept my apology,” she said, “for my behavior in the dining room earlier this evening. I had quite a good reason to act that way, but I certainly didn’t mean to be rude to any of you.”
“Think nothing of it, my lady,” Mr. Humbolt quickly responded.
Lucas took his cue from James who merely nodded and bowed to Miss Wharton.
“Yes, well, er, thank you.” Her gloved hands were folded in front of her and she was pulling at her fingers nervously. She turned to Lucas. “And I owe you a special apology for calling you a ‘clumsy oaf,’ Mr. Lucas. Of course, you are neither clumsy, nor an oaf.”
“I’m not certain you know me well enough to judge that accurately, my lady,” he replied with a grin.
A hush fell over the servants who’d all just seemingly witnessed a footman say something quite impertinent to a houseguest. They all seemed to hold their collective breaths until Miss Wharton smiled, laughed, and said, “Be that as it may, Mr. Lucas, I greatly appreciate your service at table this evening and I do hope I did not cause you any trouble with Lord Clayton.”
“None he can’t handle,” Mr. Humbolt replied, a twinkle in his blue eyes.
Miss Wharton nodded. “Well, then, I had better get back upstairs,” she finally said as the entire group of servants continued to stare. “Again, I’m awfully sorry for the way I behaved.”
She lifted her skirts, turned, and was gone nearly as quickly as she came. Lucas stared after her scratching his chin.Thatwas interesting.
“Well,” Mrs. Claxton said, her hands on her hips. “If that ain’t a first. Ain’t never seen a lady come down here ta apologize ta a bunch o’ servants a’fore.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next morning, Frances slowly opened one of the large wooden doors that led into Lord Clayton’s library. At dinner last night, before Sir Reginald had arrived and bored her into acting like a shrew, Lord Clayton had mentioned he owned a collection of books on the history of law. Frances wanted to know about the poor laws. Had there ever been another bill similar to the currently proposed Employment Bill? Had such a bill been struck down? If so, what argument had been made to convince the House of Lords to vote against it?
She might not be at liberty to discuss the poor bill with any of the noblemen at this particular house party, but she certainly intended to have every bit of knowledge on her side when next she encountered some unsuspecting lord at an event between now and the vote. The delay of the vote until the next session of Parliament gave her more time to bend the ear of every MP she came across. As soon as this blasted house party was over.
“Thank heavens,” she breathed to herself, briefly closing her eyes after she peeked in to find the room empty. She slipped inside and quickly shut the door behind her. Hopefully, none of the other guests would come to bother her. She was most likely quite safe from Sir Reginald, she thought with a wry smile, there was little chance of him looking for something toread. No doubt he was otherwise occupied with his correspondence withthe Prince Regent.
She made her way to the center of the enormous two-story room. It was packed with books lining gorgeous oaken shelves from floor to ceiling. There was a fire burning low in a huge fireplace across the room and the dark green velvet curtains had been drawn, letting in the morning sunlight. She breathed in deeply. The familiar scent of paper and ink hit her nostrils. What a lovely, lovely room. She spun around in a circle until she was dizzy.
Libraries had always been her favorite rooms in any house. She’d been without one for some time now since Father had been forced to quietly sell most of his collection to pay his creditors. Lord Clayton’s library was a dream come true, however. It had a staircase leading up to a second row of bookshelves that lined the top of the room on three walls. The fourth wall was covered with glass windows from floor to ceiling and looked out over a flowering garden behind the house with a meadow in the distance.
Frances took a few minutes to quietly look around the grand space. Hmm. She bounced the tip of one finger against her chin. The collection was larger than she’d even imagined. She should have asked her host precisely where thelaw bookswere kept. They could be anywhere.
Why, she might search through these books all day and still not come across the ones she wanted. Perhaps she should go looking for Lord Clayton to ask. Wait. No. That wouldn’t work. The male members of the house party had all planned a ride this morning. They weren’t home at the moment.
Frances plunked her hands on her hips and looked around, squinting at the farthest reaches of the room. She quickly spotted a group of similar-looking large brown leather volumes taking up an entire set of shelves in the far corner on the ground floor near the windows. The sheer size of the collection and the dimensions of the individual volumes made her think they must be important. She would begin her search there. She dropped her pink shawl on the dark green velvet settee in the center of the room and headed straight for the corner.
She’d barely made it halfway when the door to the library opened. She spun around, squelching the urge to run and hide. She was not a child found in a room she wasn’t allowed inside. She was a guest and had as much right to be in this room as anyone else. She could only hope whoever was entering the room was not someone who would want to talk. Talkers could be so tiresome at times. When one was intent upon reading, for instance.
She saw the back of the intruder before she saw his face. When he swiveled around, letting the door shut behind him, she realized why he’d entered backward. Both of his arms were filled with small logs. But she recognized his face immediately. It was her footman!
Well, not preciselyherfootman. The poor man didn’t belong to her or anything of the sort, but she’d come to think of Mr. Lucas as someone special since their initial meeting in her bedchamber yesterday morning and her scene in the dining room last night. She was delighted to see him now. Especially since they were alone.
She’d worried all night that perhaps he had been aghast at her behavior in the dining room. She’d been hasty when she’d done it. He might well have got in trouble for spilling wine upon a guest. Hadn’t Mr. Humbolt implied that Mr. Lucas had got a scolding from Lord Clayton? Frances intended to find Lady Clayton this afternoon and set the record straight. Last night Frances had hurried downstairs to deliver an apology and had been relieved to see Mr. Lucas.
Well, at first she was embarrassed that he’d had to catch her fall, but then she was relieved. Then, she’d blushed profusely after realizing he’d had his arms around her waist. In fact, she’d replayed the moment in her mind again and again until she’d fallen into exhausted slumber.
For some reason it had been important to her to apologize to him most of all. She could only hope he didn’t thinktoobadly of her now. But here was an unexpected opportunity to apologize once more…privately.
“My lady,” he said as soon as he saw her standing there. “My apologies for the interruption.”
“No interruption,” she replied. For the second time she realized his speech was cultured. She took a tentative step toward him. “Mr. Lucas? That is your name, isn’t it?”
He lowered his gaze to the floor and nodded. “I’ve come to stoke the fire,” he announced, making his way toward the large fireplace with the wood in his arms.
“Of course.” She swallowed. “Don’t let me keep you.”
He continued toward the fireplace and set the logs on the floor next to it.
