Unfortunately, the old guard had responded by digging in their heels and instituting draconian policies that only stirred up more trouble. They needed to listen to the discontented voices. And that meant overhauling the House of Commons so that it represented more than just the wealthiest landowners.
Not that Simon intended to let his old allies know of his new ideas. He must tread lightly at first. The old guard did not respond well to suggestions of reform—he would have to reassure them that his measures would not mean an overthrow of the government. Slow, moderate change was the only thing they could embrace.
Simon turned to find the king eyeing him uncertainly. “You do still mean to pursue your lifelong ambition, don’t you?” His Majesty searched his face. “Everyone expects you to follow Monteith’s fine example.”
Then everyone could go to hell. Because although Simon’s ambition was as healthy as ever, he did not mean to pursue it by following his grandfather’s fine example, living a life of hypocrisy and secret moral corruption.
Or by falling right back in with the king and his machinations. His Majesty was unpredictable at best and dangerous at worst. “I haven’t yet decided—”
“Of course you have.” He cast Simon a sly glance. “Or you wouldn’t have served your full term as Governor-General. You’d have returned to England once you tired of the heat and snakes and troubles with the natives. But you stuck it out when a lesser man would’ve said, ‘I have wealth and rank. Who needs politics?’”
Simon bristled. “I stuck it out because I pledged to do so.”
“And because I said you would have no political future unless you did.”
Clearly His Majesty meant to press the issue. “Yes. But I served my term faithfully, and now you owe me your unqualified support in my bid for prime minister. Just as we agreed.”
With a cunning smile, the king circled Simon. “Ah, but that isn’t exactly what we agreed to, is it? I said if you went to India, I would not oppose your reentry into politics upon your return. There was no mention of support.”
A sharp burst of anger seared Simon’s gut. Though he was not surprised that His Bloody Majesty was splitting hairs, it hampered his plans for England. Much as he hated it, permanent change would require the king’s complicity.
But he’d be damned before he’d beg. “Then I am on my own. Thank you for clarifying that detail.” He turned for the door. “Now if you will excuse me…”
“Wait, damn you. I only meant that if you do want my unqualified support—”
“I will have to do as you say.” Simon paused as he reached the door. “The last time you dangled your ‘unqualified support’ in front of me, I ended up banished.” Thanks to one reckless kiss and a handful of false promises. “Forgive me if I have lost my taste for currying your favor.”
“Don’t be impertinent, Foxmoor. You know damned well that what happened with Louisa was your fault. I told you not to make her believe you would marry her. Was I supposed to look the other way when you defied me?”
Apparently they were going to have this discussion, regardless of Simon’s wishes. Shutting the library door, he faced the king. “You gave me an impossible task. Court her, but not court her. Coax her to go off alone with me so you could meet with her, but not tell her why.” He took a steadying breath. “I could not accomplish your aims by remaining aloof.”
“I thought you would behave like an honorable gentleman.”
With Louisa, whose voluptuous mouth had haunted his dreams even then? “Even I have limits.”
George eyed Simon assessingly. “She’s much altered from the young woman you knew then, don’t you think?”
The abrupt change of subject put him further on his guard. This way lay quicksand. “I could not say. We barely had time to speak.”
“She’s more comfortable in society, more confident.” He scowled. “Too confident, if you ask me.”
“Trouble in paradise, Your Majesty?” Simon said dryly.
George glowered at him. “Your sister has told you about it, I suppose.”
“Regina and I do not discuss Louisa.”
The king began to pace. “The willful chit is driving me insane. She refuses every suitor, says she’s never going to marry. At first I didn’t believe her, but she’s twenty-six and still hasn’t let a man near her.”
He shot Simon a dour glance. “Then there’s her activities. I didn’t squawk when she was over at that blasted Widow Harris’s school, giving the girls advice on how to behave at court. I figured it would keep her busy, since Louisa took my daughter Charlotte’s death very hard, as did we all. But now she’s got herself mixed up with reformers, and she’s hieing herself off to Newgate—”
“The prison?” he said, curious in spite of himself.
“Exactly. She and her London Ladies Society go with those Quakers from the Association for the Improvement of Female Prisoners in Newgate to bring aid.”
That surprised him. Louisa had never struck him as the sort to pursue reform, much less the unsavory kind of reform. “And her brother allows it?”
“Draker approves, damn him. Even lets Regina go off with her. The fool thinks it’s good for them to do something ‘useful’ and ‘worthy’ with their time.”
Simon shrugged. “Charity work is a time-honored pastime for ladies.”
“Unmarried ones? Who should not have their tender minds besmirched by the debaucheries they might witness there?”
Remembering his one visit to Newgate years ago, Simon shuddered. The man did have a point. The inmates he had seen had acted little better than animals. And to think of Louisa there…
But it was none of his affair.
“And when Louisa isn’t trotting off to Newgate, she and her London Ladies Society raise funds for the Association.”
“That’s why she was speaking to Lady Trusbut.”
“Oh, she wants more from Lady Trusbut than money. She wants the silly featherhead to join the London Ladies Society so that—” George stopped abruptly.
Simon’s eyes narrowed. “So that what? What is wrong with Lady Trusbut joining Louisa’s charitable group?”
The king glanced away. “Nothing. Except that they’re trotting about the prisons, of course.”
That clearly was not what worried the king. Not that it mattered. “Why would your daughter’s new pastime possibly concern me?”
His Majesty’s gaze swung back to him. “Do you still fancy Louisa?” When Simon tensed, George added hastily, “What if I were to say you could have her?”
A thrill coursed down Simon’s spine that he ruthlessly squelched. This was a trap. “I am sure Louisa would have a strong opinion about that.”
“Perhaps if she knew. But I intend this arrangement to stay between us.”
Simon dragged in a sharp breath. “If you think I will once more play—”
“I’m not suggesting anything underhanded; this time I mean marriage. She needs a husband to keep her safe. And you’re the logical choice.”
“Me!” The suggestion staggered Simon. “You cannot possibly be serious. What happened to your assertion years ago that she should marry for love? That I was incapable of it?” Which just happened to be true, unfortunately.
“I thought she’d find someone. But she hasn’t, and I fear she never will.”
“Unless I marry her?”
“Exactly. Wed her and bed her and get her with child. Do whatever’s necessary to keep her safely at home.”
Simon burst into laughter. This was not the conversation he had expected to have with His Majesty. “Surely you see the irony. Me and Louisa…married…”
“You found her attractive enough once.” His face clouded over. “Or did her request that you be sent off turn your tender feelings to hatred?”
His amusement vanished. “I have no feelings for her one way or the other.”
Liar. He had tried to hate her. His anger, twisted with a healthy dose of frustrated lust, had consumed him during those early days
in Calcutta. He had spent his nights in lurid fantasies, imagining her at his mercy, reduced to begging his forgiveness and offering all manner of erotic favors. But hard work and the challenge of being Governor-General had eventually burned off his anger.
He’d thought he had subdued his lust, as well—until today. Not that it mattered. He would not allow Louisa, with her seductive mouth and refreshing boldness, to distract him from his ambition this time. He had learned his lesson.
Besides, George was clearly hiding his real reasons for wanting Simon to marry her, and that made involvement with her dangerous indeed.
“I do not hate Louisa,” Simon said, “but under the circumstances, marrying her would be unwise. Even if I wanted to, she would balk. She has clearly lost any interest she once had in me.” Galling but true, judging from her reaction upon first seeing him.
“Yet she’s still unmarried. And blushes whenever your name is mentioned.”
He ignored the sudden leap in his pulse. “Does she?”
“Why do you think I’m approaching you with this proposition? Because I think she secretly still has feelings for you.”
“Then they are very secret indeed.” The damned female had acted as if he were any bloody gentleman she might meet at a party, instead of the first man to ever kiss her. “I certainly saw no sign of them earlier.”
“You will. Put that charm of yours to work. God knows you’re more eligible now than ever, after your heroic actions at the Battle of Kirkee.”
He sucked in a harsh breath. “Yes, wasn’t it heroic of me to close the stable door after the horses had escaped?”
The king eyed him with a curious gaze. “You acted on good intelligence. No one blames you for what happened at Poona.”
No one but himself. Because no one but him recognized the enormity of his misjudgment. He might have prevented the razing of Poona if only—
But going over and over it did no good. He had learned from it, and now he meant to make good use of what he’d learned. And to make amends for his error. That was only right.
“The point is,” the king went on, “Louisa still cares for you—I’m sure of it. And if you got her to fall in love with you once, you can do it again.”
The tantalizing appeal of that alarmed him. He did not need the likes of Louisa North in his life right now. “Ah, but I don’t want to do it again.”
“Even if I make sure you’re the next prime minister? Liverpool needs to resign after the mess at St. Peter’s Field. Even the other ministers acknowledge that it would soothe the populace to see him step down.”
And the other ministers were even worse than Liverpool, but they could be dismissed if Liverpool was gone. Judging from the MPs Simon had spoken to, the general feeling was that the entire current government needed dismantling.
Perhaps change was finally in the wind. Perhaps the time had finally come to sever the dead wood before it brought the English oak crashing down.
But that didn’t mean Simon could trust George with the axe.
“And what will you do if Louisa refuses to marry me or claims I broke her heart a second time?” Simon asked. “No. I will not risk my career yet again.” He stalked toward the door.
“At least take time to think about it,” the king said. “If you do this for me, I swear you won’t regret it. And if you don’t…” George trailed off meaningfully.
Bloody hell, the king still had the power to make a great deal of trouble. But why would he resort to threats over Louisa marrying? It made no sense.
Perhaps Simon should learn more about the situation before he burned any bridges. “I will consider it.” At least until he learned the king’s motives.
Since he clearly would not get the truth from George, that left only one other source—Louisa. Perhaps she knew what prompted the king’s concern.
Whether she would tell him was another matter. He would have to be careful in his questions, but he would get answers. Because he dared not proceed with his own plans until he knew exactly what the king was up to.
And how the tempting and dangerous Louisa North played into the equation.
Chapter Two
Dear Charlotte,
I have never heard anything but rumor about what happened between Miss North and Foxmoor. And what gentleman would dare ask the duke about it, after the Battle of Kirkee? Any man whose words can incite a tiny force of sepoys to fight and triumph over a vast enemy is no one I’d want to tangle with.
Quaking in my boots,
Your Cousin Michael
So the Duke of High-and-Mighty was still causing trouble. That did not surprise Louisa in the least.
The monkey, however, was something of a shock. And who on earth brought a monkey to a social affair? Only someone arrogant and sure of his welcome, someone who liked to pay compliments that would make any woman blush—
“How bad is it?” asked a plaintive voice.
Louisa jerked. She was supposed to be examining Lady Trusbut’s head, which presently lay in her lap. “I haven’t found it yet.”
She and the baroness sat in Castlemaine’s drawing room. Surprisingly, after recovering from her faint, the woman had put herself entirely into Louisa’s hands, even lying down on the damask sofa when they’d entered so that Louisa could look at her scalp while a servant fetched Regina. Given this unexpected opportunity to make her case to the woman, Louisa should not be woolgathering about Simon.
Good heavens, she mustn’t think of him as “Simon” either. He was the Duke of Foxmoor to her now, nothing more. If she’d had any sense seven years ago, she would have realized it then, no matter what dribble he spouted about her eyes and her hair and how he felt—
Felt, hah! The man had no feelings. Those were reserved for lesser mortals than the great duke. She’d been a fool ever to believe otherwise.
But she really ought to thank him. Because of him, she’d taught herself to be wiser, modeling her behavior on that of Regina and the ladies at court. These days the duke wasn’t the only one who could hide his true feelings behind an unreadable smile. Though it had taken Louisa years to learn how to restrain her volatile emotions, she’d done it, by heaven. And tonight she’d triumphed, handling the mighty duke himself with ladylike reserve.
Now if only her hands would stop quaking and her insides quivering and her blood raging through her veins.
She scowled. It wasn’t fair. How could that manipulative scoundrel still heat her up with just one unsettling glance from those searing blue eyes? She didn’t need this. She’d finally gained her chance to speak privately with the skittish baroness, and that lying devil wasn’t going to ruin it for her.
“I can’t find the wound,” Louisa said. “And the monkey seems to have left some odd-looking bits of chaff.”
“That’s birdseed, dear,” the baroness twittered.
“Birdseed?” The woman had birdseed in her hair, for heaven’s sake!
“My birds are messy eaters,” Lady Trusbut said as if that explained everything. “But at least they don’t attack people for no reason.”
“Yes, birds make lovely pets.” When they weren’t depositing their feed in one’s hair.
“Do you keep birds?” Lady Trusbut asked, brightening.
She kept cats. They liked to eat birds. Probably not the best thing to mention. “My brother keeps swans,” she hedged.
“No one ‘keeps’ swans, my dear,” Lady Trusbut said disparagingly. “They’re ornamental, and ill-tempered, besides. But a pretty canary will entertain you with song for hours with nary a complaint. Or there’s the finch, with its…”
As Lady Trusbut waxed poetic about her friendly flock, Louisa picked her way through seed chaff and wondered how to steer the conversation back to the London Ladies Society. She didn’t want to frighten the baroness off, after all.
Louisa finally found the source of the blood and dabbed at it with her handkerchief. “Your wound isn’t very bad. Just a scratch.”
“It hurts like the dickens,”
Lady Trusbut protested.
“I’m sure it does,” Louisa said soothingly. “As soon as Regina comes, she’ll put ointment on it. She volunteers at Chelsea Hospital, you know.”
“I shall probably catch some vile disease from that odious monkey.”
Louisa stifled her impulse to point out that Lady Trusbut could catch something just as easily from her birds.
“You were very brave, my dear. I wouldn’t have made it out of the melee otherwise. How clever of you to tempt the creature with punch! I could never have thought of it. I’m not quick on my feet. My canaries always say so.”
“Your canaries talk?”
“Don’t be silly—they’re canaries. But that doesn’t mean I can’t understand what they think.” Louisa was still trying to decipher that, when Lady Trusbut added, “I’m sure they would agree that your capture of that willful beast was magnificent.” Lady Trusbut tilted her head to peer up at Louisa. “Did you learn that sort of quick thinking from your little group?”
At last, the chance she’d been waiting for! “I’ve learned many things from the fine and dedicated women of the London Ladies Society.”
“How long have you been a member?”
“Three years. I was the one who established the group.”
Lady Trusbut made a tsking sound. “A young lady like you should be thinking about marriage, not reform.”
Louisa tensed at the familiar criticism. “I think about both. But since I can only find time to do one, my conscience dictates that I choose the latter.”
Her conscience…and her raging terror. Although it was true she could do more good as a reforming spinster than as some overbearing lord’s wife, it was really the thought of what marriage wrought that kept her from it.
Childbirth. Doctors. Blood and horror.
After what her beloved half sister, Princess Charlotte, had endured…she could never live through that. No matter how often she told herself that women bore children safely every day, the bloody birth she’d secretly witnessed preyed on her mind. If even a princess could die in such agony, surrounded by the best doctors, anyone could suffer the same, including her.
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