Chapter Two
London, early August 1814
“We’ll call it The Footmen’s Club,” Lucas declared.
Three days had passed since they’d come up with their drunken idea and none of them had backed down in the harsh light of sobriety. Apparently, they were doing this mad thing and Lucas couldn’t say he didn’t want to. The idea seemed to make more sense the longer he contemplated it. And he’d even contemplated it with nary a drink in sight.
They’d all arrived at Clayton’s town house so that his town servants could teach them the ways of Clayton’s household chores. They were just finishing being fitted for their livery, an event that delighted Worth. “It doesn’t matter what I’m wearing,” the duke said with a charming grin and a wink. “It’s all about how you wear it.”
“‘The Footmen’s Club,’” Bell echoed. “I like the sound of that even though I intend to be a valet.” Bell didn’t need Clayton livery, but he was being fitted just the same in order to have clothing befitting a valet to wear for his interview.
“Who knew that knee breeches and white stockings would look so good on me?” Worth called out, completely ignoring their discussion about the title of their escapade.
“Yes. The Clayton livery is quite distinct,” Clayton said. “Black coats, emerald waistcoats, white shirts, white stockings.”
“You should pay me more because of my height,” Worth added, smoothing his hand down the front of his shirt. “Aren’t tall footmen paid more?”
Bell shook his head. “We aren’t collecting wages.”
“The devil we’re not,” Worth replied. “If I’m to perform the duties of a servant, I expect a servant’s pay.”
Clayton threw back his head and laughed. “Not to worry, Worth. You’ll get your money. I usually hire extra staff this time of year to help with the house party. Your wages will be waiting for you after you complete your fortnight of work. I daresay you’ll need every farthing you can get if you’re going to pay each of us one thousand pounds when this is over.”
Worth glared at him. “You let me worry about the thousand pounds. Just show me what to do and I’ll do it. I intend to be a groomsman, by the by, but I like the sound of ‘The Footmen’s Club’ too.”
“Is no one to be a footman with me?” Lucas asked. “I thought we were doing this together.”
Bell tugged at his cuff. “I need to be close to the men I’m watching. I intend to see to it that at least one of them is in need of a valet before the party begins.”
“What are you going to do to his valet?” Clayton asked, his eyes widening.
Bell shrugged. “Don’t worry. Nothing dangerous. Pay off the chap, most likely.”
“Being a groomsman isn’t going to be as taxing as being a valet,” Lucas told Worth. “You didn’t tell us you intended to be a groomsman when you made the bet.”
“Have a care,” Worth replied, looking a bit offended. “I need at least a sporting chance at winning. Besides, I’m much more comfortable around horses than people.”
“Not to worry,” Clayton assured Lucas. “He’ll have to deal with the guests even as a groomsman. We do quite a bit of riding during my house parties.”
“See there,” Worth replied smugly, straightening his shoulders.
“I still say you won’t be able to do it,” Bell said as the tailor measured his inseam.
“I’m flattered by your faith in me, Bell,” Worth shot back. The tailor’s assistant was measuring his shoulders. “No padding,” Worth told the man. “I don’t need it.”
“Very well,” Lucas replied. “But I intend to visit the stables from time to time to see how you’re getting on.”
“Please do,” Worth replied.
“I think I have everything I need, my lord.” The tailor stood, gathering his scraps of materials and the string he’d used to measure. The assistant fell in line by his side.
“Thank you, Mr. Kirby,” Clayton replied. “The butler will see you both out.”
The tailors left the room and Clayton rang for Mrs. Cotswold, the housekeeper. The formidable lady arrived within moments. She wore a dark gown that swept the floor, a perfectly starched white apron, and a ring of keys that was attached to her waist by a belt. Clayton had already informed them that Mrs. Cotswold was the housekeeper at his estate. He’d sent for her ahead of the house party to assist his friends.
When the housekeeper entered the room, all three prospective servants stood up straight. They were queued in order of height, in front of her. She walked along the line of them and then turned to face her employer. “I’m not at all certain about this, my lord.”
“I understand it’s going to be difficult to think of them as servants, Mrs. Cotswold,” Clayton began, “but as I’ve said, I give you and the other servants leave to treat them no differently than one of your own for the next fortnight.”
“That’s not my concern,” the lady replied, her mouth tight. “The fact is, I’m not certain any of them are up to the task. The duties of a servant are many and varied and the hours are long and can be quite taxing.”
Clayton pressed his lips together. He looked as if he were struggling to keep from laughing. “I understand perfectly, Mrs. Cotswold. They’ve all agreed to do the best they can. Haven’t you, gentlemen?”
All three dutifully nodded.
Lucas stepped forward. “I’d like to thank you for taking time from your busy schedule to help us, Mrs. Cotswold. I promise to take the instruction quite
