“Yes, but the real beauty of the trade laws was the fact that we don’t have to answer to anyone for how we treat our help,” Sir Reginald continued. “Why would I choose to vote against my own best interests?”
The House of Lords has the power to defeat this law, but they only vote in favor of themselves and their own purses.More of Frances’s words resounded in Lucas’s head. He’d actually spent time trying to argue that point, trying to convince her that the male members of upper class did not vote only in favor of themselves and their own purses. But she was right. Sir Reginald was proving her right.
“I suppose youwon’tchoose to vote against your own best interests,” Lucas managed to bite out. He had only one final thing to say and then he intended to take himself away from Sir Reginald’s noxious company and never seek it again. “Look, Sir Reginald, the reason I’m so interested in getting this bill passed is because—”
“We all know why you’re so interested in getting it passed, Kendall,” Sir Reginald interrupted with an eye roll. “Your brother told you to. NowCharleswas a man with whom one could negotiate. I was hoping you’d be more like him, actually.”
Lucas sat back. His chest ached as if he’d been knocked from a ship’s crow’s nest to the main deck. He couldn’t breathe. His throat burned. “What did you say to me?” he growled through clenched teeth.
“I said yourbrotherknew how to be a politician. Clearly, he didn’t teach you much before he cocked up his toes.”
Lucas squeezed his glass so tightly it cracked. If he didn’t remove himself from Sir Reginald’s presence immediately, the knight’s neck would be next.
“On the contrary.” Lucas spit the words like nails. “I’ve always believed the bill would do the most good for the country. But I’m beginning to understand that it actually does the most good for our class and I’m not at all certain any longer that our class deserves it.” Lucas stood, drained the rest of the brandy from his ailing glass, set it on the side table, and strode toward the door. “Good day, Sir Reginald.”
The knight stared after him, his mouth agape. “Wait a minute,” he called. “What about the chancellorship?”
Lucas didn’t slow down. “Good afternoon, James, and thank you for your service,” he said to the footman on his way out, tipping his head in the servant’s direction. “Please tell Clayton I owe him a brandy glass.”
“With pleasure, my lord,” James replied with a nod and a bow.
Lucas hadn’t got three steps down the corridor before he let out a string of muffled curses that he knew for a fact would make one of the most highly seasoned jacks in the Royal Navy blush. What the hell had just happened back there?
Lucas was thoroughly disgusted. Disgusted with Sir Reginald and all the imperious blowhards like him, gentlemen of theton, who went around making pronouncements as if they were gods. But mostly Lucas was disgusted with himself, because he knew that what Sir Reginald had said about his espousing the bill for his brother was entirely true. Frances was right. Noblemen were self-entitled horse’s asses. And he was one of them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Sneaking down to the servants’ hall without being seen was no small feat. Waiting to find a particular servant and whisper at him to come speak with you without anyone else noticing was an even larger challenge. But Frances was nothing if not determined. If her mother found her, she would be locked in her bedchamber till her wedding day, but she’d had to take the chance. If only to see Lucas one more time. Frances had little idea what she’d say to him when she found him, however. She only knew she had to tell him the truth. He deserved to know what she was going to do.
She’d been hiding beneath the staircase belowstairs for the better part of a quarter hour before Lucas walked past. He had a frown on his face and looked to be in the devil’s own mood. She called his name in a loud whisper.
Lucas froze and his eyes widened. He glanced over and narrowed his eyes into the darkness. “Frances? What are you doing here?”
He glanced around to see if anyone else had seen her before hurrying over to join her beneath the staircase. “Are you all right? Your mother didn’t beat you, did she?” A thunderous look covered his face.
“No, nothing like that. She cried actually,” Frances replied, wringing her hands.
Lucas winced. “I hate to hear that.”
Frances took a deep, steadying breath. “I came to tell you something, Lucas,” she whispered. “And I fear I don’t have much time.”
“Go ahead,” he prompted. He’d grabbed both of her gloved hands and was holding them, rubbing across her fingers with the tips of his thumbs. His touch gave her strength. But it also made what she was about to say that much more difficult.
She stared up into his handsome face. Oh, dear. This wasnotgoing to be easy. It seemed even more daunting now that she was standing in front of him, breathing in the scent of his cologne, and wanting to do nothing more than wrap her arms around his neck and beg him to take her away from the horrible predicament.
Lucas squeezed her fingers and searched her face. “Are you all right, Frances?”
She was not all right and she wasn’t certain she ever would be again, but she managed to nod. “Lucas, before I tell you, will you…kiss me first?”
His green eyes widened to small orbs and he took a definite step back, still holding her hands. “No!”
She pulled her hands from his and plunked both fists on her hips. “Well, you don’t have to be insulting about it,” she replied, but her smile belied the content of her words.
He smiled too. “It’s not that I don’t want to, Frances, believe me it’s not. It’s just that…the last time I gave into that temptation it ended horribly as you might recall.”
“Oh, yes, I recall.” She stared wistfully past his shoulder. She understood why he was reluctant to kiss her again, but she’d just realized it would have been their last kiss.
He rubbed a knuckle against his forehead. “What did you come to tell me?”
