“First, tell me what you don’t like about the law,” he prodded.
“Well, for one thing it gives more rights to the noblemen running large estates, and less to the poor tenants and farmers. It puts more money in the pockets of men who are already quite wealthy. It does nothing for servants and the working class but give them even fewer options to find work without references from what may well have been awful employers.”
Lucas swallowed. All of those things were true when looked at from a certain point of view, but he saw each of those issues in a completely different light. “Is there anything you like about the law?” he asked tentatively.
She tapped her fingertips along the tabletop for a few moments before saying, “Honestly, the only good it does is repeal of some of the harshest conditions of the trade acts.”
The Trade Laws were archaic laws that gave the working class almost no rights. The repeal of the worst parts of the trade acts was one of Lucas’s favorite parts of his brother’s bill. At least he and Miss Wharton could agree on that.
Lucas stood. “Follow me,” he said, starting toward the opposite side of the room. “I know where the law tomes are.”
“You do?” Her voice held a note of surprise.
Damn it. He hadn’t stopped to consider that it might seem odd that a footman knew where certain books were in his master’s huge library. He thought it best to change the subject. “May I ask how you intend to sway the vote?”
Frances continued to follow him. Her voice was tinged with resolution when she said, “I may be a mere female, Mr. Lucas, but I am often in the company of the men who make such decisions and it would be derelict of me not to use my time in their presence to attempt to influence their votes.”
Lucas remained silent as he made his way to a small nook in the wall hidden from view from the rest of the library. He stepped inside, and she followed him.
“My goodness,” she exclaimed, spinning in a small circle and smiling. “I hadn’t realized this alcove was here.”
Lucas pointed up. The books of law were stacked to the ceiling on both levels of the room.
Her gaze followed his finger and she smiled. “Oh, Mr. Lucas, thank you. I never would have found these if you hadn’t shown me.” She hesitated a moment before narrowing her eyes again. “I do hope you don’t mind my asking, how did you know these were here?”
He glanced away and scratched at his temple. The blasted powdered wig made his head itch. He needed to think more before he did certain things. But being in her company made him carefree (or careless, more like). Thankfully, he’d already invented his answer on the walk over. “I spend a lot of time in this room. I like to read. Lord Clayton doesn’t mind as long as my chores are finished.”
“A footman who likes to read?” As soon as the last word left her lips, she clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my goodness. I’m terribly sorry. That was hideous of me,” she mumbled behind her fingers.
Lucas shook his head. “Please, no apologies, my lady.” He could only hope her guilt would keep her from asking more questions.
“It’s just that…” she continued. “Oh, I do hope I don’t insult you, but…I have noticed your speech is quite cultured and I wondered how…”
Lucas leaned a hand against the solid wooden frame of the nearest bookshelf. “How I’m a footman if I’m educated enough to speak this way and read law tomes?”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “When you put it that way it does sound awful. I’m terribly sorry. I beg your pardon.”
“No, don’t be sorry,” he replied. “Let’s just say my family and Clayton’s family have long been friendly. He did me quite a favor by employing me as a footman, however.” There. That was true, yet vague. The perfect answer.
“Of course,” Frances said. “I feel foolish for asking you to explain.”
“Think nothing of it my lady, truly.” He could hardly blame her for saying something rude to him when he was merely pretending to be a footman. As far as he was concerned, he was guilty too. Once again, he decided changing the subject was probably the best thing to do.
“Well, here they are.” He splayed his open palms toward the books. “May I help you find any one in particular?”
“No. I shouldn’t keep you any longer. I’m quite happy to poke about until I find the one I need.”
“Very well.” Lucas watched her. She seemed to want to say something else, but she’d hesitated.
“May I ask you something, Mr. Lucas?” she finally ventured.
He nodded. “Of course.”
“Have you met my maid…Albina? Downstairs perhaps?”
Lucas bit his lip while he contemplated the question. He’d met many servants downstairs, both those who were employed by Clayton and those employed by the guests, but he didn’t seem to recall the name Albina. “I don’t believe so. Why?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Frances shook her head and waved her hand in the air dismissing it. “Nevermind. Wait. I do have one more question.”
