“Indeed, I did,” Lucas replied, pulling away from the wall and walking with Mrs. Claxton toward the servants’ staircase that led to the sleeping quarters. He would spend his night in a small room on the men’s side of the fourth floor. He’d insisted on being a servant in every way possible. Bell would be up there too. Worth, however, was sleeping above the stables with the other groomsmen and stablehands.
“Turns out I’m a ‘clumsy oaf,’” Lucas continued, grinning at the cook.
“I’d have liked ta have seen it,” Mrs. Claxton said, shaking her head. “And I’d like even more ta see what that gel would say if she ken who ye really was.”
Lucas gave Mrs. Claxton a warning look.
“I know. I know. It won’t be coming from my mouth. But I can’t help wishin’,” Mrs. Claxton finished, chuckling.
They were just about to climb the stairs when a bundle of green satin came hurtling down toward them. Lucas had to grab the young woman wearing the satin about the waist to keep her from falling face-first on the cobblestone floor.
When he’d finally stood her up and ensured she was steady on her feet, he realized he’d just caught Miss Wharton.
“Oh, dear,” she said, a blush quickly traveling from her chest to her hairline. “I’m terribly sorry. I wanted to make it down here before you all had gone to bed.”
Mrs. Claxton and Lucas just stared at her. A small group of the other servants who were also done with their duties were gathering behind them, staring at Miss Wharton as if a unicorn had just emerged in their midst.
“Can we help ye, milady?” Mrs. Claxton asked, her brow wrinkled. “Would ye like somethin’ ta eat? I can send up a maid—”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Miss Wharton said, pressing a hand to her collar bone. “Nothing like that. I just wanted to see Mr. Humbolt, the butler, and the footmen who were serving in the dining room this evening.”
Lucas glanced at her warily. He’d assumed she’d knocked his hand causing him to spill on purpose, but he may have been entirely mistaken. Was she here to call him another name? Or worse. Had she somehow discovered who he was and come to demand an answer for his charade?
Mr. Humbolt cleared his throat and stepped forward from the back of the small crowd while James and the other two footmen stepped forward as well. Because Lucas was already standing next to her, he merely bowed. Bowed, and hoped that no matter what Miss Wharton said, none of the servants mentioned that he was an earl. They’d all been carefully instructed not to speak of it in front of anyone, least of all the debutantes, but the nagging fear was still there in the back of Lucas’s mind as he said, “At your service, milady.”
She blinked at him as if she hadn’t yet recognized him standing there. “Oh, my. It’s you.” Her mouth formed a small, surprised O.
“It’s me,” he echoed, letting the brief shadow of a smile cross his lips. He had to admit he was intrigued again. What was she doing down here at this time of night?
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. Humboldt 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. That was 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
