Lord Bellingham steepled his fingers together in front of his chest. “Have you ever made a mistake, Miss Wharton? One you wished with every bone inside your body that you hadn’t made?”
Frances blinked at him again. She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Lord Bellingham let his head fall back against the chair cushion. “You’re fortunate then. Because I have, and let me tell you, there’s not a day that goes by that regret is not my constant companion.”
“That sounds awful,” she breathed, staring out into the gardens again.
“It is. Take it from me. The moment you make the decision you’ll regret for eternity can also feel very much like being perfectly right.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lucas sat at the desk in his second-floor bedchamber at Clayton’s estate. He had just finished writing the final letter to the last of the members of the House of Lords asking him to reconsider his vote for the Employment Bill. He’d also written a letter to the Chancellor, asking him to stop the vote. He was sending all the letters out by courier at his own expense so they would get to London as quickly as possible.
Lucas intended to return to London immediately as well. He hoped to beat the storm that was gathering outside. He would have to tell his mother his decision about the law. She wouldn’t like it, but he didn’t care. He was through trying to live his dead brother’s life. From now on, he was going to be himself, make his own decisions, and the devil take the consequences.
A knock at his bedchamber door interrupted his thoughts. “Come in,” he called, already annoyed. No doubt it was Bell come to blather on with more unwanted advice. The man could be a complete nuisance when he wanted to be.
He heard the door open slowly behind him.
“If you’re here to tell me some more drivel about how I’m a quitter I don’t want to hear it,” he said brusquely without turning around.
“What did you quit?”
Lucas’s heart stopped beating. He swiveled quickly in his seat to see Frances take a small step inside the room. She was wearing an ice-blue gown with silver trim. Her dark hair was swept up in a chignon and she’d never looked more lovely.
He swiftly stood. He couldn’t believe it was her, standing there, looking gorgeous and actually talking to him. “I…I thought you were someone else.”
“Who?” she asked. Was it his imagination or was a slight smile riding her lips?
“One of my idiotic friends,” Lucas replied, rubbing a palm across the back of his neck. He was half-mad with worry. If he said the wrong thing she might leave.
“Lord Bellingham, perhaps?” she asked next, primly folding her hands together in front of her.
Lucas narrowed his eyes on her. “You know Bell?”
“I do now,” she replied with a slight laugh. “Are you…alone?” she asked next.
All Lucas could do was nod. If he took a step toward her, he feared she would disappear like an apparition he’d conjured from his imagination.
“No one saw me come here,” she said, shutting the door behind her. She took one more small step forward. “At least I didn’t see anyone in the corridor.”
Another nod. He felt like a damn fool, but for the second time in his life, he was completely tongue-tied. She did that to him.
“I wanted to…speak with you,” she began, biting her lip.
Lucas allowed himself to take two tentative steps toward her. He reached a hand toward her, wanting to do nothing more than grab her up in his arms and spin her around. “Frances, I—” He swallowed. No. He needed to listen to her for once and stop trying to explain himself. “What did you want to say?”
She tossed back her head and lifted her chin. A gleam of determination shone in her eyes. “I…came to ask if…your offer still stands.”
Lucas’s heart thudded in his throat. His pulse raced. “My offer?” He had to be certain of what she meant. He couldn’t risk raising his hopes only to have them dashed again.
“Yes.” She nodded, not looking away from his gaze. “A wise man came to visit me. He told me I should reconsider before I undermined myself.”
“Bell?” he breathed, closing his eyes. By God, he would give Bell his entire fortune, his estate, anything the man wanted.
“Yes. However, he had to admit he wasn’t just Lord Copperpot’s valet.” She arched a brow.
“He’s pretending to be a valet,” Lucas offered.
“So I gathered. Apparently, it’s a popular game for the noblemen of the ton of late.” She arched a brow.
“Frances, I—”
She lifted a hand to stop him. “So? Does your offer still stand or not?”
Relief swamped Lucas’s body. It was as if a dam had broken and pure joy released into his blood. He closed his eyes. “Yes,” he breathed. “My offer still stands. Always.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t have a dowry, you know?”
He shook his head. “Darling, I’d pay you to marry me.”
She laughed, but quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. “You may have to depending on what my mother says. I’ve no idea how much Sir Reginald offered them.”
“I’ll pay triple what he offered. I’ll—”
“Not so quickly,” she said, her tone matter of fact. “I do have some questions for you first.”
He searched her face and nodded. “Ask me anything.”
Frances folded her arms across her chest and stepped forward until she was able to walk around him in a circle. This interrogation would be anything but simple. And he deserved it. Every single word.
“Did you think about telling me?” she asked. “Before that day in the drawing room, I mean.”
Lucas wanted to reach for her so badly his hand trembled, but he understood these answers were important
