“Thank heavens,” she breathed to herself, briefly closing her eyes after she peeked in to find the room empty. She slipped inside and quickly shut the door behind her. Hopefully, none of the other guests would come to bother her. She was most likely quite safe from Sir Reginald, she thought with a wry smile, there was little chance of him looking for something to read. No doubt he was otherwise occupied with his correspondence with the Prince Regent.
She made her way to the center of the enormous two-story room. It was packed with books lining gorgeous oaken shelves from floor to ceiling. There was a fire burning low in a huge fireplace across the room and the dark green velvet curtains had been drawn, letting in the morning sunlight. She breathed in deeply. The familiar scent of paper and ink hit her nostrils. What a lovely, lovely room. She spun around in a circle until she was dizzy.
Libraries had always been her favorite rooms in any house. She’d been without one for some time now since Father had been forced to quietly sell most of his collection to pay his creditors. Lord Clayton’s library was a dream come true, however. It had a staircase leading up to a second row of bookshelves that lined the top of the room on three walls. The fourth wall was covered with glass windows from floor to ceiling and looked out over a flowering garden behind the house with a meadow in the distance.
Frances took a few minutes to quietly look around the grand space. Hmm. She bounced the tip of one finger against her chin. The collection was larger than she’d even imagined. She should have asked her host precisely where the law books were kept. They could be anywhere.
Why, she might search through these books all day and still not come across the ones she wanted. Perhaps she should go looking for Lord Clayton to ask. Wait. No. That wouldn’t work. The male members of the house party had all planned a ride this morning. They weren’t home at the moment.
Frances plunked her hands on her hips and looked around, squinting at the farthest reaches of the room. She quickly spotted a group of similar-looking large brown leather volumes taking up an entire set of shelves in the far corner on the ground floor near the windows. The sheer size of the collection and the dimensions of the individual volumes made her think they must be important. She would begin her search there. She dropped her pink shawl on the dark green velvet settee in the center of the room and headed straight for the corner.
She’d barely made it halfway when the door to the library opened. She spun around, squelching the urge to run and hide. She was not a child found in a room she wasn’t allowed inside. She was a guest and had as much right to be in this room as anyone else. She could only hope whoever was entering the room was not someone who would want to talk extensively. Talkers could be so tiresome at times. When one was intent upon reading, for instance.
She saw the back of the intruder before she saw his face. When he swiveled around, letting the door shut behind him, she realized why he’d entered backward. Both of his arms were filled with small logs. But she recognized his face immediately. It was her footman!
Well, not precisely her footman. The poor man didn’t belong to her or anything of the sort, but she’d come to think of Mr. Lucas as someone special since their initial meeting in her bedchamber yesterday morning and her scene in the dining room last night. She was delighted to see him now. Especially since they were alone.
She’d worried all night that perhaps he had been aghast at her behavior in the dining room. She’d been hasty when she’d done it. He might well have got in trouble for spilling wine upon a guest. Hadn’t Mr. Humbolt implied that Mr. Lucas had got a scolding from Lord Clayton? Frances intended to find Lady Clayton this afternoon and set the record straight. Last night Frances had hurried downstairs to deliver an apology and had been relieved to see Mr. Lucas.
Well, at first she was embarrassed that he’d had to catch her fall, but then she was relieved. Then, she’d blushed profusely after realizing he’d had his arms around her waist. In fact, she’d replayed the moment in her mind again and again until she’d fallen into exhausted slumber.
For some reason it had been important to her to apologize to him most of all. She could only hope he didn’t think too badly of her now. But here was an unexpected opportunity to apologize once more…privately.
“My lady,” he said as soon as he saw her standing there. “My apologies for the interruption.”
“No interruption,” she replied. For the second time she realized his speech was cultured. She took a tentative step toward him. “Mr. Lucas? That is your name, isn’t it?”
He lowered his gaze to the floor and nodded. “I’ve come to stoke the fire,” he announced, making his way toward the large fireplace with the wood in his arms.
“Of course.” She swallowed. “Don’t let me keep you.”
He continued toward the fireplace and set the logs on the floor next to it.
Frances watched him. The law books could wait. Mr. Lucas was far more interesting at the moment. There was something about him that made him stand out from all the other footmen she’d ever encountered. No, not
