A shudder wracked her. No man was worth that, even—
Louisa scowled. He was certainly not worth it, the scheming scoundrel.
Fiercely, she renewed her efforts with Lady Trusbut. “If you should hear the call of conscience yourself, the London Ladies would be honored to have you.”
“Isn’t your group affiliated with that Quaker Association I hear about?”
“Yes, the one run by Mrs. Elizabeth Fry.”
Lady Trusbut shook her head. “I don’t approve of Quakers. Edward says they despise anything with feathers.”
“Edward” was Lord Trusbut, who’d apparently found the perfect way to discourage his eccentric wife’s participation. “They merely disapprove of extravagant dress. I doubt they dislike feathers in particular. And the London Ladies Society doesn’t just have Quakers. Mrs. Harris is a member, as well as several of her graduates and ladies of rank.” She reached into her reticule. “I have here a list of women who—”
“Mrs. Charlotte Harris? Headmistress of the School for Heiresses?”
Louisa bit back a smile to hear the popular nickname for the school where she’d once given aid. “Well, it’s actually the School for Young Ladies.”
“Mrs. Harris keeps birds, doesn’t she?”
Good heavens, the woman had only one note. “She recently acquired a parakeet, I believe.”
“Parakeets are delightful, very chatty.” Lady Trusbut hesitated, as if thinking, then smiled up at Louisa. “Very well, I shall donate funds to your group. ’Tis the least I can do after you saved me from that imp from hell.”
Money. Louisa sighed. “We’ll be most grateful for the donation, madam, but we’d be even happier if you’d join us.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Edward would disapprove.”
Before she could answer, a male voice spoke from the doorway. “Nonsense. Surely any gentleman would approve of Miss North’s charitable organization.”
Startled, Louisa glanced up to find her nemesis watching them. Oh no, why was he here? And how long had he been standing there?
As she went to tuck her list into her reticule, her curst hands started shaking and the list floated to the floor.
Simon bent to retrieve it, then scanned it swiftly. “An impressive roster of ladies you have here, Miss North. Members of your group?”
Refusing to answer, Louisa held out her hand. “If you would please—”
“Certainly.” A smile touched his lips as he handed her the list.
He was probably laughing at her for her clumsiness. Simon would never be clumsy, oh no. Not the clever duke.
When his gaze fixed on her with the unerring instinct of a tiger scenting prey, she had to struggle not to blush like the girl she’d once been, swept off her feet by a dashing scoundrel. Until she’d discovered there was nothing “dashing” about having the Duke of Foxmoor dash one’s heart against the rocks.
“As you can see,” Louisa said tartly, “Lady Trusbut is fine now, so we won’t keep you from the party.”
“I don’t mind,” he said. “I came to apologize for my pet’s behavior.”
Lady Trusbut sat up and smoothed her skirts. “Kind of you to think of me, Your Grace.”
“It’s the least I could do.” Taking her hand, he brushed a kiss across the top.
The courtly gesture brought a smile fluttering across the woman’s lips.
Louisa stifled a groan. Apparently Simon had this annoying effect on every woman.
How she’d prayed that he would return to England worse for wear—sunken-eyed and gaunt, with skin burnt a leathery brown by the harsh Indian sun. Instead he looked every inch the conqueror arriving home to widespread accolades. His perfectly tailored evening attire accentuated his lean and muscular frame, and his days in the sun had tinted his skin a golden hue perfectly complemented by his sun-streaked blond hair.
“Allow me to explain Raji’s actions,” Simon went on. “You see, he loves toy birds, so he could not resist the chance to pet yours.”
“P-pet it?” Lady Trusbut squeaked. “H-he wasn’t trying to mangle it?”
“Absolutely not. He considers birds, real or toy, to be his playmates.” Simon arched one eyebrow. “He prefers canaries, though I am not sure why.”
Sly devil. He must have heard Lady Trusbut gushing over her birds.
Lady Trusbut cocked her head, pigeon-like. “Canaries are delightful, very amiable and sociable. I happen to own several.”
“Do you? Raji would certainly enjoy seeing them.”
“Then perhaps you should bring him to call on me sometime. If you’re sure he won’t hurt them.”
Simon bowed. “He will be on his best behavior, I assure you.” He shot Louisa a conspiratorial glance. “But I hope you will allow me to bring Miss North, as well. Raji seems to respond better to her commands than mine.”
Louisa blinked. What in heaven’s name was he up to now?
Before Lady Trusbut could answer, he added, “I forgot, that’s probably impossible, since your husband disapproves of Miss North’s charitable efforts.”
“I-I didn’t say that,” Lady Trusbut protested, looking confused.
“I assume that if he would disapprove of your joining her group, then he disapproves of their charitable work.”
The way he kept pounding the word “charitable” gave Louisa pause.
And flustered Lady Trusbut. “Well, no…I mean…my husband is a good man. He does believe in Christian charity, but the Association is so very political, you see, and he doesn’t think that politics is a woman’s purview.”
Louisa gaped at her, shocked that she had actually discussed the group with her husband. All this time she’d thought Lady Trusbut was simply ignoring her appeals for support.
Eyes narrowing, Simon glanced to Louisa. “What does she mean by ‘political’?”
Louisa stared him down. “We believe Parliament should institute certain reforms in the prisons, sir. And we aren’t afraid to tell the MPs our opinions.”
His gaze probed hers. “I see.”
She squirmed on the sofa. Why did she have the feeling he “saw” more than she’d said? Did he know about their other plans? No, how could he?
Simon smiled at Lady Trusbut. “Then I understand your reluctance, madam. Some men are particular about their politics, so you would not want to risk your husband’s wrath by joining such a group. Men of the oppressive sort—”
“My husband isn’t oppressive.” Lady Trusbut sniffed. “He’s a kind, generous man!”
“Yes, of course.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t worry, we will keep your secret safe. We will not let him know you associate with Miss North and her dangerous companions. We would not want to be the cause of his abusing you—”
“I tell you, sir, you’ve misunderstood my husband entirely!” Lady Trusbut stood to face the challenger to her husband’s honor. “You shall come to call, and you shall bring Miss North. Come Saturday, when Parliament isn’t in session, and then you’ll see for yourself how accommodating my husband can be.”
Simon nodded, eyes gleaming. “Thank you, I will do that.” His gaze flicked to Louisa. “Assuming that Miss North will honor me with her company.”
Half-dazed, Louisa rose to her feet. Had the duke really just manipulated Lady Trusbut into giving Louisa an audience with her and her husband? But why? What possible purpose could it serve him?
Before Louisa could answer him, Regina swept into the room. “Oh, there you are, Lady Trusbut. You seem to have recovered nicely.”
Her pride further soothed by the attention of a duke’s very popular sister, the baroness touched a hand to her hair. “Miss North has been quite solicitous of me.”
Louisa smiled at her sister-in-law. “I told Lady Trusbut that you probably had some healing ointment for her injury.”
“Yes, of course.” Regina waved her hand toward the door. “If you’ll just come with me to our stillroom…”
Lady Trusbut hurried to her side, but when Louisa star
ted to follow, Regina shook her head. “No need for you to stay inside, my dear.” She nodded to her brother. “Accompany Louisa back to the party, will you? You might as well make yourself useful now that your pet is under wraps.”
“I would be honored.” Eyes gleaming, Simon held out his arm to Louisa.
She hesitated, but the last thing she wanted him to know was how much he unsettled her. Besides, she needed to find out what the wily fellow was trying to do. This would be an excellent test of her self-control. If she could stay unruffled with Simon, she would finally be free of him.
Yet the mere act of letting him lead her from the drawing room did fluttery things to her insides. Heavens, but he was finely made—she could feel his muscles bunch beneath his merino coat. He’d always been a virile man, but now…
Clearly, he hadn’t spent the last few years behind a desk. His shoulders were broader, and his physique more finely developed. Where he’d once been Adonis, he was now Zeus, and as confident of his power as that imperious god.
He stood aside to let her pass through the open door leading to the gallery, then laid his hand briefly in the small of her back as he came up behind her. A shiver of forgotten pleasure skittered down her spine.
Oh dear. When would her body learn the lessons her heart had—that he couldn’t be trusted? Would she have to be doddering on the edge of the grave? Because clearly her body was leaping for joy to have him near.
Dratted, witless body. She must teach it to behave.
When he offered her his arm again she barely laid her hand upon it. Surely she could control her thumping pulse if she just didn’t touch him.
Unfortunately, he noticed her reaction. Seizing her hand, he pressed it more firmly to his arm. “I promise you, I did not bring any diseases back from India.”
“I didn’t think you had,” she said, hot color flooding her cheeks. It was time to show him she wasn’t the naïve girl he’d deceived all those years ago. “But I am wondering what new scheme you’re engaged in, Your Grace.”
“Scheme?” he echoed as they headed for the steps leading to the gardens.
“That nonsense with Lady Trusbut, coaxing her to welcome me into her home. What are you doing? And why are you doing it?” She shot him a questioning glance, but his eyes remained fixed straight ahead.
“You helped me with Raji, so I decided to help you with the baroness.”
“You don’t even know what I’m trying to do with her,” she said.
“Perhaps you should enlighten me.”
That put her instantly on her guard. “Why would I want to do that?”
His gaze swung to hers. “We were friends once.”
“We were never friends.”
His eyes searched hers, brooding, hot…intoxicating. “No, I suppose not.” Settling his gaze on her lips, he lowered his voice. “Friends do not kiss, do they?”
Her pulse was positively hammering. “Friends do not lie and betray each other. We were pawns in His Majesty’s game. Or I should say, I was a pawn. You were as much the chess master as he.”
“And you got your just revenge on me for it,” he said tightly. “So can’t we put the whole incident behind us now?”
Leave it to Simon to regard as a mere “incident” the event that had changed her whole life. “In case you haven’t noticed, I have put it behind me.” She released his arm as they neared the garden steps. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”
But his attention had shifted to a spot beyond her. “Come,” he said abruptly, holding out his arm again. “Let’s take a turn about the gardens.”
“I can’t imagine why I—”
“Look down there,” he said under his breath. “Every guest is watching us, waiting to witness the explosion, especially after what happened earlier with Raji.”
She followed his gaze, and her heart sank. He was right. The crowd below had grown eerily silent, bent on not missing the “explosion,” as he put it.
While no one but their respective families knew the full extent of the antipathy between Miss Louisa North and the Duke of Foxmoor, they did know he’d once seemed on the verge of offering for her before abruptly and mysteriously accepting the post of Governor-General and hieing off to India.
Gossip had run rampant immediately after, snippets of which had drifted back to Louisa. Theories had ranged wildly: she’d jilted him and broken his heart; he’d jilted her and broken her heart; His Highness had inexplicably disapproved of the match and broken both their hearts.
“You have two choices,” Simon said with an edge in his voice. “You can take a turn about the gardens with me to show that we are on good terms, which might end the speculation. Or you can give me the cut direct, thus ensuring that we are gossiped about for the next year at least. Which is it to be?”
She hesitated, but she really had no choice. “Why, Your Grace,” she said in a syrupy voice as she took his arm, “I’d be honored to walk with you.”
A faint smile tugged at his lips. “I rather thought that you might.”
As they descended the stairs, people stared and whispered. Drat them all! She’d succeeded with her reform efforts because of her unblemished reputation and her avoidance of scandal. It had taken years at court for her to live down the rumors—not just about her and Simon, but her possible illegitimacy and the scandals her mother and brother had engendered in her youth.
She’d made a useful life for herself, behaved with consummate decorum, and learned to control her worst impulses so no one would compare her to her wanton mother. But it could all unravel with one pull of a loose thread.
How horrible it would be to have the gossip start up again, just as the London Ladies were on the verge of shaking up the stuffy lords and their backward ideas—
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said tersely.
“You look as if you just swallowed a toad.”
Her gaze shot to his. “A t-toad?”
“They eat toads in India, you know,” he said, his face utterly expressionless.
“You’re joking.”
The corners of his lips twitched. “Not at all. They eat them with mustard and marmalade. And a drop of Madeira to kill the poison.”
“Poison?”
He led her down a path bordered by daffodils and daisies. “Toads are poisonous if you don’t add the Madeira. Everyone knows that.”
“Now I’m sure you’re bamming me,” she said with an unsteady laugh.
But his tall tale had relaxed her. People were finally returning to their conversations, deprived of the scandalous spectacle they’d expected.
“That’s better,” he said in a low voice. “I can’t have them think I’m torturing you.”
“No, that wouldn’t serve your public image, would it?” she said lightly.
“Or yours.” When she glanced up at him in surprise, he added, “A reformer must worry about her public image, too, I would imagine.”
She sighed. She’d forgotten that he read minds. He’d always had an uncanny ability to know exactly what she was thinking.
No, that was silly. He merely gave that impression—it was his forte. It was how he manipulated people so successfully.
And yet…she couldn’t shake the sense that they were beginning exactly where they’d left off. He walked beside her as if he’d stepped right out of her memories and into Castlemaine’s gardens. Even his scent was the same as back then—an intoxicating blend of brandy, sandalwood, and soap.
And she’d forgotten how charming he could be. If she closed her eyes, would she be whisked back to those heady nights during her come-out when he’d danced with her more often than was proper, teasing her and tempting her?
Of course not. Those nights had been an illusion. And so was this.
Careful, Louisa. Nothing good ever comes of being friendly with the Duke of Foxmoor.
If she didn’t take care, she would find herself swept into his latest scheme. Only this time, she had much more to lose t
han her heart. And she refused to let the duke take something from her ever again.
Chapter Three
Dear Cousin,
I know perfectly well you would not quake in your boots for anyone. Besides, Foxmoor did not look so fearsome at Lady Draker’s fete; he had a monkey who quite got the better of him. Though come to think of it, the monkey did vanish later—perhaps Foxmoor had the last word after all.
Your gossipy cousin,
Charlotte
Simon knew exactly when Louisa erected her defenses against him again. He’d thought she was softening, but judging from her patently false smile and the way she nodded regally to everyone they passed, the moment was gone.
Bloody hell, she’d turned into quite the prickly female. Because of him?
Or because of her new activities? He couldn’t help noticing as they neared two prominent MPs that the men cast dark glances in her direction. Glances that turned wary when they fell on him.
She had said that her organization wasn’t afraid to voice their opinions about prison reform. Just how forcefully did they express them? Surely not strongly enough to annoy the old guard.
Though it might explain the king’s inordinate concern for her “safety.” Politics was involved. Now all Simon had to do was learn how.
He smiled at her. “I haven’t yet thanked you for helping me with Raji.”
“Why on earth did you bring him, anyway?”
“It is an outdoor affair, and Raji enjoys the occasional party.”
“Ah, but you don’t usually enjoy the occasional fiasco. The duke I used to know would never have risked annoying potential supporters to please his pet.”
“People change,” he snapped. He was supposed to be running this inquisition, not her, for God’s sake.
“Do they?” When he bristled, she added, “I confess I was surprised you even own a pet, let alone an exotic one.”
Only a Duke Will Do Page 3