Relief swept through him. If she’d come here, she must have thought he would find her. She must have—dare he hope—wanted him to?
“Frances?” he whispered, her name a stark plea on his lips.
When she lifted her head and looked up at him, his hopes were dashed. Even in the dim light he could see that anger burned in her eyes. She hated him. He’d made a mistake.
His chest ached and every breath was a struggle. He crouched down next to her.
She was still shaking, her teeth still chattering.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I’ll be right back.”
He quickly strode over to the desk and opened the bottom drawer. The shawl she’d left the first day he’d met her was still there. He’d brought it back down a few days ago and put in the drawer again so he wouldn’t forget to give it to her. He grabbed it and hurried back over to the alcove. “Here,” he said, draping it over her shoulders.
She clutched it and wrapped it more tightly around herself. “Th…thank you,” she managed. “I thought I’d lost this.”
“I think I kept it on purpose. It reminded me of you. Will you hear me out?” he asked softly, crouching down once more.
“Do I have a choice?” Her voice was monotone.
“Of course you do, Frances. You’ll always have a choice with me.” He searched her profile, wanting nothing more than to reach out and trace his fingertip along her cheekbone.
Her jaw tightened. “Then, no, I don’t want to hear you out. I just want to ask you one question.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Anything.”
“Wh…why did you ask me to m…marry you?”
“Because I want to.”
“How c…can you w…want to marry me? I stand against everything you stand for.”
He bit the inside of his cheek and expelled a breath. “The Employment Bill is not what I stand for.”
She tugged the shawl closer around her shoulders. “Tell the truth, you only asked me to marry you out of guilt.”
“No, I didn’t.” He said the words with all the sincerity he felt in his heart.
“Yes, you did.” Her voice sounded resigned, lifeless. He couldn’t bear hearing her like this. “You know I’m marrying Sir Reginald for money and you’re trying to save me because of your guilt.”
“That’s not why. I—”
“But what I cannot understand is why you would ever think I’d accept you.” She turned her gaze to him. Her eyes were shards of dark glass.
He swallowed hard. “If you’ll give me a chance, I can explain everything. Try to, at least.”
“You lied to me. About everything. Everything you did was a lie.”
“No, Frances, I—”
“Of course I see it all clearly now, but at the time, I’d no idea. Like the time I tried to give you a coin for carrying my trunk to my room. You tried to give it back to me.”
He bit the inside of his cheek, hard.
“And the time you nearly called Lady Clayton by her Christian name. It’s because you are friends.”
He clenched his jaw.
“‘A footman who likes to read?’ I said. You let me feel guilty for saying that and for mentioning that your voice was cultured too. Of course it’s cultured.”
“Frances, listen to me. I—”
“I was such a fool.” She shook her head. “And you let me be. Dear God. You even asked me if I was in love with you?”
Lucas took a steadying breath. He knew his next few words could decide their future, their fate. “Frances, I’m not about to deny that I’ve made a mistake, a tremendous one, but I can make this right, I promise you.”
“Make it right?” She laughed a humorless laugh. “By marrying me?”
He nodded.
She turned her head to stare straight forward into the darkness again. “I suppose next you’re going to tell me that you love me. That you merely forgot to say it that night under the staircase in the servants’ hall.” Her tone turned wistful.
He opened his mouth to say just that. “I didn’t want to tell you until you knew who I really was.”
She put up one hand. “Please. Don’t.” Tears sparkled in her dark eyes.
He scrubbed a hand through his hair and nearly growled with frustration. How could he get her to understand? How could he convince her of how he truly felt? She was choosing to see the worst in him.
She didn’t want to hear them, but the words I love you incinerated on his tongue.
His throat burned. He shook his head. For the first time in his life, words completely failed him.
She struggled to her feet, declining the hand he offered. “I can’t believe you. If you told me you love me, it might be just another lie.”
Tears streaming down her cheeks, she brushed past him and raced from the room.
Lucas watched her go and along with her, his hopes and dreams for a marriage full of love with a woman who he knew without a doubt would have been true to him forever. A mixture of anger and grief mixed in his chest. He clenched his fist and leaned his arm against the nearest bookshelf, resting his head upon it.
“You’re wrong, Frances,” he said to the empty room. “I love you desperately.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“I’ve come for the brandy bottle.” Bell threw open the door to Lucas’s guest bedchamber on the second floor. It had been over an hour since Lucas’s scene in the dining room, and Bell had obviously got wind of it.
Lucas blinked calmly at the ceiling from his position lying prostrate on his bed. “There is no brandy bottle.”
Ignoring him, Bell proceeded to search around the mattress, beneath the pillows, in the bedside drawers, and even under the bed. “The devil you say,” he finally conceded, taking a seat in a large chair near the fireplace that faced the bed.
“I’m not jug-bitten,” Lucas replied woodenly, staring at the ceiling, his arms folded neatly on his middle.
“I can see that,” Bell replied. “But I must say I’m surprised.”
Lucas let out a loud groan. “What good would getting
