“How do you know?” Lucas asked, his brow furrowing. Had word of his arrival already got out at the party? If so, he would have to keep his head down.
“Sir Reginald of all people told me. I wonder why Kendall didn’t come to dinner.”
“Perhaps he’s averse to large ton gatherings,” Lucas conjectured, knowing that was precisely why Lord Kendall didn’t come to dinner. That and the fact that Frances would have recognized him immediately.
“Perhaps.” She shrugged. “But I picture him as more of a man who likes to be the center of attention.”
Lucas succumbed to a coughing fit. Frances had to pound him on the back. When it was over, his eyes were watering profusely. “My apologies, my lady.”
“Are you quite all right?” Concern was etched into her features.
“Yes, I’m fine. What else were you going to tell me?” he asked, purposely changing the subject.
She tipped her head to the side. “I had the strangest interaction with a man who claimed to be Lord Copperpot’s valet. Do you know anything about him?”
“Lord Copperpot’s valet?” Lucas repeated, tugging at his neckcloth.
“Yes, he found me in the corridor last night waiting for Lord Kendall. He told me my mother had turned her ankle.”
Lucas did his best to feign concern. “Is she all right?”
“That’s just it. When I went to Mother’s bedchamber, she was perfectly fine. She hadn’t turned her ankle at all. Isn’t that strange?”
Lucas tugged at his neckcloth. “Perhaps he mistook you for someone else.”
Frances shook her head. “I don’t think so. He specifically called me by name, and he knew Mother’s name.”
“That is strange,” Lucas replied woodenly. He cleared his throat and forced himself to broach a subject he dreaded. “What were you doing outside Lord Kendall’s room?”
Her eyes gleamed. “Waiting for him, of course. Sir Reginald told me they had a meeting yesterday afternoon. I wanted to talk to him about the Employment Bill.”
Lucas couldn’t let on that he knew she’d sent him a note. Instead he asked, “Did you speak to him…Lord Kendall?”
She shook her head. “No, after I got to Mother’s room and realized she was all right, it was time to begin dressing for dinner. I thought better of returning to Lord Kendall’s door.”
“I think that’s wise,” Lucas said. “You don’t plan to return then?”
“No. I sent him a note asking him to meet with me.”
“You what?” He did his best to summon the appropriate amount of outrage.
“I know it’s inappropriate.” She tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth. “But I signed the note with my initials so he wouldn’t know I’m a woman.”
Lucas did his best to give her a stern stare. “What do you intend to do when you meet with him? Disguise yourself as a man?”
Another gleam came into her eyes. She sat up straighter in her chair. “You know, that’s not a half-bad idea.”
“I was only jesting,” he hastened to add.
She laughed. “Of course you were, but if I thought it would help me gain a meeting with him, I just might try it.”
Guilt was now a song singing loudly through every vein in Lucas’s body. He may not have had answers to half a dozen questions at the moment, but he knew one thing as certain as he knew that eight bells meant the end of a four-hour watch: he needed to stop this madness as soon as possible.
He’d already decided that he was through with this game. He had one more day to answer Sir Reginald. The only reason he hadn’t told the man to go toss himself yesterday was because he hadn’t trusted his own temper at the time. He also wanted his friends’ counsel as to how to best handle the knight’s request. As soon as he answered Sir Reginald, Lucas intended to leave the house party.
It would be cruel to disappear without saying good-bye to Frances, however. He would speak to her one last time in the library tomorrow morning. He’d make up some excuse for why he had to go. What did one final lie even matter? He would say good-bye to her and then he’d leave this damnable house party, forfeit the bet, and let Worth and Bell compete for the win. He wished he’d never agreed to the blasted bet in the first place. He certainly never would have had he known the depth of dishonesty he would be forced to sink to.
Lucas had wrestled all night with whether to tell Frances the truth now or leave and tell her later. He could either tell her the truth and watch her feelings for him fade beneath the lies, or he could leave with a beautiful memory of a beautiful lady…and hope he never encountered her and whoever was lucky enough to be her future husband about town. Damn it. Both choices were wrong to some extent. He would cause her pain, one way or the other.
He glanced at the clock. It was time to go, for now at least. If he stayed here with her any longer, he would only make things worse. He would only add to the pack of lies he would have to account for in future. If he stayed, he would only…want to kiss her again. And that would be unfair, to both of them.
“I have to go now, Frances,” he managed to say. “I…have some additional chores to attend to.” As excuses went it was particularly lame, but under the circumstances he thought it best not to invent any more elaborate stories.
Even though she nodded, he could see the disappointment in her eyes. “Of course,” she said. “Will you meet me here tomorrow?”
“I…yes, I will. Tomorrow.” His voice sounded melancholy, hoarse. He would do at least that much for her, promise to see her one last time. Say good-bye.
“Lucas, are you all right?” She bent her head to look at him. He was staring unseeing at the tabletop.
He lifted his gaze to hers. “Will you promise me you won’t go looking for Lord Kendall again?”
Her sharp intake of breath made him look up. “No, Lucas. I cannot promise you that. Please don’t ask me to.”
He nodded. “You have to do what you must.” He stood, pushed his chair beneath the table, and turned toward the door. Guilt gripped his heart. He began to walk away slowly.
“Lucas, wait,” she called.
He turned on his heel to face her. She’d already caught up to him and was standing directly behind him when he turned. “You cannot leave without a kiss.”
She lifted herself up on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and touched her lips to his.
Chapter Twenty
This kiss was unlike the others she’d shared with Lucas. At first, he seemed frozen, unwilling to participate. Frances was just about to release him and beg his pardon for mistaking the matter when she felt his resistance give way. His arms snaked around her back and he pulled her tightly against him, his mouth slanted over hers, his tongue sliding hot, wet, and warm, deep into the recesses of her mouth.
Relief swept through her. Thank heavens. She hadn’t been mistaken. He wanted this as much as she did. Desire coursed through her body. His large frame was trembling when his hand reached up to cup her breast and—
The library door creaked open.
They jumped apart immediately, each taking a large step back. But they were breathing heavily and no doubt looking exceedingly guilty when Albina, of all people, stepped into the room.