“Must you go so soon?” she asked, her voice a trembling whisper.
“I suppose I could stay a bit longer,” he replied, his own voice husky. “If you’d like to convince me to.”
In answer, her hands moved up his shirtfront and wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling his head down to hers. “I would like to,” she breathed.
Lucas needed no further invitation. His lips met hers, a warm press at first until he opened his mouth and slanted it across hers. His tongue slid between her lips and she moaned in the back of her throat.
Lucas went hard instantly. He pulled her body tight against his and ravaged her mouth with his. He couldn’t get enough of her. She was soft and tasted like spring, and the scent of her perfume made him want to taste her. She wrapped her arms more tightly around him as the kiss intensified. He wanted to press her back against the bookshelf, wanted to grind himself against her, but he didn’t want to scare her. She might be questioning her decision to kiss him already and any sudden movement from him might well cause her to push him away.
His hands moved down her back. Lower and then lower again. Until he pulled her against him even more tightly, a groan emanating from his throat.
Time seemed to spin as he held her and kissed her, never wanting it to end. A voice calling from somewhere in the garden intruded, making Lucas quickly come to his senses. He slowly pulled his mouth from hers and moved his hands up to cup her face. Her eyes were still closed, and her lips were pink and swollen.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped back.
She opened her eyes. Her breathing was heavy, and she looked at him as if he were some sort of exotic creature standing in front of her instead of a flesh and blood man. She lifted her fingertips to her lips and softly touched them.
Confusion marred her lovely brow. “I…should probably go,” she whispered.
Lucas nodded. He was desperately hoping his raging cockstand would diminish before he was forced to leave the alcove. He cleared his throat and tried to think of something else. What? What? He shook his head. Oh, yes. “Before you go, may I ask you something about what you said earlier, regarding the Employment Bill?”
She nodded, closing her eyes again briefly as if still trying to make sense of what had just happened. “Of course,” she finally offered.
Lucas leaned an arm against the bookshelf. “Did I understand you to say that you attempt to speak with members of the House of Lords to convince them to vote against the bill while you are at parties with them?”
Her eyes focused on his face and she slowly raised a single brow. “Don’t look so aghast. Men have been doing the same thing for centuries. I’m not naïve enough to believe that many important decisions aren’t made in a gentlemen’s study over port and conversation while a ball is happening in the ballroom.”
Lucas shifted his weight to the opposite leg. Thankfully, his cockstand was quickly subsiding. “I cannot argue with you there, my lady, but tell me, you said you don’t see how anyone with a heart beating in his chest could be for the law. Why do you think that?”
“Countless reasons!” Her words were nearly shouted. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. Her next words were delivered in a much more moderate tone. “I mean, I could list a solid dozen reasons off the top of my head, but the biggest is that it only benefits the wealthy.”
He knew that was patently untrue. Charles would have never authored such a law. But Lucas sensed he needed to reply carefully, so Frances would listen without feeling as if he were like so many others who had attempted to stifle her opinions.
A bell chimed.
Lucas stepped out of the alcove and glanced at the clock that sat on the desk nearby. “We both must go now. But I would very much like to discuss this more. Will you meet me here tomorrow, say, one hour earlier?”
“I suppose I could do that.” A small smile popped to her lips. “If you promise to kiss me again.”
This time a smile made its way to his lips. “I suppose I could do that.”
Chapter Thirteen
The hour Frances spent in the quiet library with Mr. Lucas the next morning was the most enjoyable hour she’d spent since arriving at the house party. He was witty, he was kind, he was intelligent, and he was every bit as irreverent as she’d first guessed him to be. Best of all, the man actually listened to her. She sat there, going on and on about the evils of the Employment Bill, and instead of making an excuse and hurrying from the room, he sat next to her and looked into her eyes as she spoke. He asked questions to clarify certain points, and he nodded and murmured to demonstrate that he was paying attention.
Mr. Lucas had proven himself a more well-behaved gentleman than any of the titled lords of the ton she’d met. None of the gentlemen of her acquaintance truly paid heed to her words the way Mr. Lucas did. Oh, they humored her, and patted her on the hand, and sent her off to sit with the wallflowers again while they found other amusements, but not one of them had appeared to be truly contemplating her points when she’d enumerated the reasons why the Employment Bill was so awful.
Once Frances had made her case, she stared hopefully at Mr. Lucas, fully expecting him to agree with her on all points. After all, how could one not see the truth in the arguments she’d made? But instead of readily agreeing with her, he said something entirely unexpected. “If I were to guess what a nobleman might say in response,” he began, “I suppose he would say it would behoove him to support the bill so that he could fulfill his duties to the many people who rely upon him.”
Frances stared at him as if he’d just turned into a dragon. “What are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “If I were a nobleman, I might say the bill was helping by lowering the cost of wages and ensuring I didn’t have to employ someone who wasn’t holding up their end of the agreement. I’d be able to employ more people and fulfill my commitments to those who already work for me.”
Frances rolled her eyes. “Honestly, has Lord Clayton been telling you this drivel?”
Mr. Lucas cleared his throat. “Is it not true that men like Lord Clayton have obligations to fulfill? Surely your father has mentioned it to you if you’ve spoken to him about the law.”
Frances clenched her jaw. “My father has never fulfilled an obligation in his life.” The words had flown out of her mouth before she had a chance to examine them.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mr. Lucas said, giving her a look that did indeed say he was truly sorry. There was no pity in his gaze, however. Good. She detested pity.
She shrugged. “No need to be sorry. It’s harsh but true. Our lands are mortgaged and we’ve dismissed most of our servants.” Frances knew she shouldn’t be telling anyone these things, but somehow, she felt safe with Mr. Lucas. Somehow, she felt as if she could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge it.
“If that’s the case, then the bill would help to put more money back in your father’s pocket,” Mr. Lucas continued.
“My father’s pocket is empty because he’s gambled everything away. I’d rather put money in the pocket of the hardworking servants he’s forced out onto the streets.”
Mr. Lucas’s voice lowered, and a note of regret sneaked in. “Is it that bad?”