Anger at herself seeped into her thoughts next. She’d been far too emotional downstairs. She should have told him she didn’t give a whit who he was and given him a piece of her mind about the Employment Bill. She’d told him she never wanted to see him again. She wouldn’t have another chance to tell Lord Kendall precisely what she thought of his abominable bill. In addition to having her heart broken, she’d missed her only opportunity to rail at the bastard. She ripped at her handkerchief with both hands. Life was so unfair.
Then the conversations they’d had in the library came back to haunt her, one-by-one. Oh, God! The things she’d said to him about the ton, about nobility, about gentlemen of the Quality. And all the while he’d smiled and nodded and pretended as if he agreed. He was a liar and a fake! The lowest of scoundrels.
What sort of man did something like this? What sort of man took advantage of a young lady the way he had? Why, she should have Papa call him out. Lord Kendall deserved no less. She quickly discarded that notion. She didn’t want Papa to die. Besides, she’d had a part to play in this turmoil, too. She’d never had any business meeting with a footman in the library each day. She would accept that much of the blame. But she wasn’t the one who’d lied about her identity. He was.
Dear heavens. He must have been laughing at her the entire time. And their kisses. Their kisses! Were they even real? Or had he merely been pretending to want her in order to win his silly bet? Good God. He’d touched her, he’d kissed her, he’d— No. She couldn’t think about that. If she did, she’d go mad. She had to pretend that had never happened or she couldn’t stand it. Not today. Perhaps not ever.
He’d lied about everything. From his name at first, to his job, to his relationship with Lord Clayton, to his stance on the Employment Bill. Oh, God. When he’d supposedly been playing devil’s advocate for the bill, that hadn’t been pretending at all. He was in favor of it. Her stomach lurched. She was going to vomit. She slid off the bed and ran for the sideboard, barely making it to the chamber pot in time.
Afterward, she sat in silence as every single word she’d ever spoken to him came back to taunt her. Again and again, she asked herself why? His only answer continued to throb inside her brain. Because of a bet. That was the cruelest part of all.
Darkness had descended outside Frances’s window when her mother came sailing in from the adjoining bedchamber. “Oh, dear, there you are. Your father’s just arrived. He’s already spoken to Sir Reginald, and he agrees we should proceed with announcing the betrothal at dinner tonight.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
There were not enough bottles of brandy in the world as far as Lucas was concerned. He’d had the better part of one and half of them and he intended to continue until the earth ran dry. Or at least until Clayton’s estate did.
Lucas was sitting on the cot in Bell’s fourth floor bedchamber again. Worth and Clayton had joined them.
“Pour me another drink,” Lucas demanded, slamming his fist atop the table next to the bed.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough, Kendall?” Worth asked, from his preferred perch on the window ledge.
Bell sat on the cot next to Lucas, and Clayton, once again, sat in the chair in front of the desk. Just like the last time they’d been here, it was a tight squeeze, four grown men in the small room, but they weren’t particularly concerned with their accommodations at the moment. They were much more interested in drinking. Clayton, who’d brought the brandy with him, was in charge of pouring.
“I agree with Worth,” Clayton said, replacing the glass stopper on the brandy bottle. “You’ve had enough for the time being.”
“I have not had enough,” Lucas replied, blinking. “I am a horse’s arse. I’m a scoundrel. I’m a cur.”
“You’re certainly making a good case for being a horse’s arse,” Worth replied with a laugh. “I won’t disagree with you there, old chap.”
Lucas let his forehead drop to his palm and groaned. “I’ve made a mess of everything.”
“Come now, not everything,” Worth replied. “You weren’t involved in everything.”
Lucas’s head snapped up and he glared at Worth. “I will fight you with one hand tied behind my back if you besmirch her honor.” He lunged toward the brandy bottle.
“Good God. No one is besmirching anyone’s honor.” Worth reached down and pulled the brandy bottle out of Lucas’s reach. “Who knew you were such an angry drunk? I must admit I’ve never seen this side of you before, Kendall.”
“None of us has seen this side of him before,” Bell pointed out. “The man’s heart is broken.”
Bell wasn’t telling a secret. In the hours since he’d last seen Frances in the foyer, Lucas had gathered his friends, began drinking heavily, and poured out his whole sad, sordid story to the lot of them.
None of them seemed particularly surprised.
“Is a broken heart the reason he’s like this?” Worth scoffed. “I thought he was merely angry with himself for losing the bet.”
“If I could reach you, I’d take a swing at you right now,” Lucas growled at Worth.
“Well, then it’s a good thing the desk
