The Footman and I: The Footmen’s Club Trilogy

first time since all this had begun, guilt began to creep into his conscience. If he did come to have feelings for this particular young lady, what would he do? Show up at the events of the ton this autumn and introduce himself to her as the Earl of Kendall? That would go over like a rowboat in a hurricane. He could hardly expect that she would fall into his arms. No. She’d be angry with him for lying to her, and she would have every right to be.

The Footmen’s Club experiment had already got convoluted. Damn it. Why had he thought this charade was a good idea again? Oh, yes. Ale had been involved. At the moment that’s all he remembered.

Somehow in his imagination before he’d come here, he’d seen himself as merely being cleverly disguised as a servant and doing nothing more than observing the young women who were potentially looking for suitors. The plan had never been to interact with them and certainly not as much as he already had with Miss Wharton. She was certain to recognize him in future.

Clearly, he had not thought his strategy through well enough. If he had any hope of salvaging the game, he needed to stay away from Miss Wharton. At least far enough away to keep from, say, having another private conversation with her. He stared down at the shawl in his hand. He glanced around for a few moments before he strode over to the large desk near the back wall. He opened one of the bottom drawers and laid the shawl inside. If Miss Wharton happened to return to the library tomorrow and if he saw her again, he would merely return her shawl to her. He would not have another long conversation with her. That would only be asking for trouble. The last thing he needed was trouble.

Also on the subject of potential trouble, Lucas had made a decision. He might as well use his time at the house party effectively and find a way to speak privately to Sir Reginald about the Employment Bill. Such a meeting would be no small feat. It would require Lucas to change his appearance and dress as a nobleman. He’d have to remove the livery and the powdered wig, and hopefully find Sir Reginald alone or in the company of only males, so as not to alert the female portion of the guest list to the appearance of the Earl of Kendall. That would only make for awkwardness as the bevy of matrons went about trying to toss their eligible darlings in his path, the avoidance of which had been the entire reason for his charade as a footman in the first place. It would be damned inconvenient to be both the Earl of Kendall and Lucas the footman at the same party, but Lucas refused to squander the opportunity to speak to the knight. He would simply have to work out the details when the time came.

Lucas’s thoughts were interrupted when the door to the library opened again and Bell strolled in. Ostensibly, Lucas had come to the library to deliver more logs to the fireplace, but that had mainly been an excuse to be here at this hour to meet his friends. They had all agreed to convene to discuss their first day as servants. Thankfully his friends had been late. Wait. No. Bell was never late. Lucas glanced at the clock that sat on the desk. Bell was precisely on time.

Clayton entered next, directly upon Bell’s heels. “Good morning, Lucas,” the viscount called in his most jovial tone.

Lucas clicked his heels together just as Mrs. Cotswold had instructed him and promptly bowed. “My lord.”

That sent Clayton into a fit of laughter. “Good God, man. You don’t need to carry on the charade when it’s just us.”

“On the contrary,” Bell interjected. “It only stands to reason that he would behave as a footman as long as he’s in this home. I know from experience it’s much less trouble than switching from role to role. That can be confusing and cause mistakes.”

“Yes, well, speaking of that—” Lucas began, intent upon telling his friends of his plan to shed his servant’s garb and speak to Sir Reginald.

“I heard you nearly got sacked on your first night,” Bell interrupted, a slight grin on his lips.

Clayton was smiling too. “Yes, Lucas, we can’t very well employ a footman who spills wine on ladies’ gowns.”

Lucas folded his arms behind his back and braced his feet apart. Very well. He’d been expecting this ribbing all morning. “I suppose I should be grateful that Theodora didn’t sack me.”

Clayton laughed. “Honestly, I cannot believe you lasted an entire evening. I was quite certain Theodora would ruin it all at the dinner table last night by bursting out with laughter.”

“She did a fine job of acting,” Lucas replied. “She even reprimanded me for my behavior.” He chuckled.

The three men made their way to a large wooden table and chairs that sat near the wall of windows. They each took a seat. As Lucas took his, he glanced outside to see Frances and her mother poking around the flowers as if they were actually interested in horticulture. Frances looked miserable, while her mother craned her neck, obviously searching for Sir Reginald.

“It seems you both know how my evening went, how was yours, Bell?” Lucas asked, doing his best to focus on his friends instead of watching Frances in the gardens.

“A success, I’d say.” Bell’s sharp ice-blue eyes met his. “I didn’t spill anything on Lord Copperpot.”

“The man you’re valeting?” Lucas asked.

Bell replied with a nod. “So far I believe I’ve been quite convincing. To all save one person, at least.”

“Oh, do tell, who might that be?” Clayton leaned forward and waggled his brows.

“Only the most exasperating lady’s maid I’ve ever come across,” Bell replied.

Lucas arched a brow. “A lady’s maid, you say?”

“Yes, she’s given me no end of hassle,” Bell replied, a frown on his face. “She’s