A twig snapped behind her and she turned to see Albina coming down the path toward her. Frances’s stomach lurched.
“Albina!” she called, waving from behind the orange blossom tree. “I’m here.”
Albina’s head swiveled until her gaze alighted on Frances and then she nodded, picked up her skirts, and hurried over. She didn’t appear to have a note in her hand.
“Did he send a reply?” Frances blurted, wringing her hands.
Albina shook her head. “No, Miss. I’m afraid not.”
Frances’s stomach lurched back to its original location. “Oh,” she said, attempting and failing to hide the disappointment in her tone.
“But I think I can help, Miss,” Albina continued.
“How?” Frances asked, searching the maid’s face.
“I was talking to one of the other maids downstairs,” Albina said, “and I learned where the Earl of Kendall’s bedchamber is.”
Frances’s eyes went wide. “Truly?” She wanted to jump for joy. There was no way the man would be able to escape her if she staked out his bedchamber. “Albina, you darling, that’s perfect. Where is it?”
“On the second floor, the sixth door on the right at the top of the staircase,” Albina replied, a proud smile on her face.
“You’re certain?”
“That’s the direction Lord Clayton’s maid gave me,” Albina replied.
“Thank you, Albina.” Frances lifted her skirts and started off down the mulched path toward the front of the conservatory. “I intend to go there immediately and stay until he returns.”
Chapter Seventeen
Dressed impeccably as the Earl of Kendall, Lucas made his way to Clayton’s blue drawing room at precisely four o’clock. The knight had replied to Lucas’s invitation, ensuring he wouldn’t miss it. Bell’s question continued to ring in his head. “What do you intend to do about Miss Wharton?” What did he intend to do about Miss Wharton, indeed.
He would have to write her back of course, but he’d no clue what he would say. He obviously had two choices. He could accept a meeting with her and confess all, but risk her eternal hatred. Or he could reply that he didn’t have the time for a meeting at present. She wouldn’t be pleased with that answer, but she already had a bad opinion of him. He doubted it could get much worse. It truly came down to whether he was ready to admit to the lies he’d already told her and hope there was some possible way he could explain it all to her. Even if she was forgiving about his pretending to be a servant, he doubted she’d be as forgiving when she learned she’d kissed a man who was working against her. Blast. Why the devil did this entire thing have to be so complicated?
He grabbed the door handle to the blue salon and took a deep breath. He would decide what to do about Frances later. At the moment he had a knight to persuade.
Sir Reginald was already sitting in the room when Lucas entered.
“Good to see you, Sir Reginald,” Lucas intoned, striding toward the older man. The door closed behind him.
“Likewise,” Sir Reginald replied, standing to greet Lucas.
They shook hands.
Tea was being served by Clayton’s servants, but Lucas marched directly to the sideboard. “Would you care for something stronger, Sir Reginald?”
“By all means,” was the knight’s reply.
Lucas splashed brandy into two glasses and made his way back toward the seating arrangement in the center of the room. Sir Reginald sat on the settee in front of the window while Lucas took a seat on a chair at a right angle.
“Thank you for meeting with me,” Lucas said. He used the opportunity to take a good look at the man. The lines near Sir Reginald’s eyes were well-defined as were similar lines in his forehead and at the sides of his mouth. He was balding. His shoulders sloped. There was no doubt about it. Sir Reginald was not a handsome specimen of a man, but he wasn’t entirely repellent either. A lady could do worse, he supposed. Even as he had the thought, Lucas realized how awful it sounded in his head. If he were Frances, would he want to give himself for life to someone who could charitably be described as not entirely repellant?
“I must admit, I was surprised to receive your note, Kendall,” Sir Reginald began. “I didn’t realize you would be here.”
“I hadn’t intended upon coming,” Lucas replied. “My plans changed at the last minute.” At least that much was true. He much preferred to be telling the truth for once.
“Clayton says you don’t intend to stay long,” Sir Reginald continued.
“That’s correct, which is why I’m pleased you could meet with me this afternoon.”
“My pleasure,” the knight said, taking a tiny sip of his brandy before setting the glass aside on the table next to the settee.
“It’s too bad you’re not staying,” Sir Reginald continued, “the party has been quite a crush. The Prince Regent is coming on Monday.”
“I heard,” Lucas replied, “you must give him my best.”
“I will,” Sir Reginald said, “but you may miss other happenings as well. For instance, I just might find a bride here this week.”
The words hit Lucas like a punch to the gut. He forced himself to keep his face blank as he asked the question he already knew the answer to. “Really? Who is the fortunate lady?”
“Well.” Sir Reginald puffed up his chest and smoothed his hand down the front of his plum-colored coat. “Nothing’s settled yet, you understand, but I’ve become partial to Miss Frances Wharton.”
“Baron Winfield’s daughter?” Lucas continued, biting the inside of his cheek, hard.
“Yes, his eldest. She’s a bit headstrong, apparently fancies herself knowledgeable about politics.” He chuckled condescendingly, rolling his eyes. “Can you imagine? But it’s nothing a good husband shouldn’t be able to quell. She’s a pretty enough chit.”
“I hear Winfield is in debt. Are you certain there’s a dowry there?” It was a horrible thing to say, but Lucas couldn’t help himself. And quell? Had the man truly just said quell? He clearly didn’t know Frances if he thought
