Only a Duke Will Do

by Sabrina Jeffries

  Yours fondly,

  Michael

  Louisa nearly had heart failure. How dared Simon agree with that man? Leaning forward, she prepared to give Lord Trusbut a piece of her mind, but Simon laid his hand on her arm and squeezed it in warning.

  “Newgate is no place for ladies,” he repeated. Lord Trusbut released the bank draft. Simon glanced at it, frowned, then folded it and tapped it against his knee. “Indeed, it’s no place for women at all. Yet there are hundreds there, being treated little better than animals. And surely you don’t approve of that, do you?”

  Louisa let out her breath, then fixed Lord Trusbut with a questioning glance.

  Lord Trusbut scowled at them both. “They’re criminals. That’s different.”

  Releasing her arm, Simon sat back and cast her an expectant look.

  She took his cue. “They’re not all criminals. Nearly a third are awaiting trial, which means they haven’t been convicted. And there are children, too, subjected to the filth and indignities of a prison merely because their mothers were sent there. Surely you don’t think children belong in a prison, sir.”

  “Certainly not, but—”

  “Despite what Lord Sidmouth claims, we’re not advocating that the women escape punishment. But we’ve found that if they are given rules and a suitable occupation in prison, they often become law-abiding citizens once they’re released.”

  She chose her words carefully. “But until Parliament agrees to fund permanent matrons and schoolteachers, we need many charity-minded females to provide those services. We’d hate to see the prisoners return to their old ways because ladies like your wife and I aren’t there to help.”

  “And if it’s the ladies’ safety you’re concerned about,” Simon added, “I intend to go with them from now on.”

  “Really?” Lord Trusbut said. “You will accompany them to Newgate?”

  Louisa was as surprised by the statement as the baron.

  “As often as I can.” He fixed the baron with a steely look. “It is a worthy cause. And women will have their little causes, so why not indulge them?”

  She didn’t like him speaking of prison reform as some female whim, but she couldn’t deny the effect his words were having on Lord Trusbut.

  The man sat back, rubbing the ivory knob of his cane as if it were a fortune-teller’s crystal ball and he thought to find answers in its creamy surface.

  Simon pressed his point. “I have taken a personal interest in Miss North’s organization. A very personal interest.”

  That seemed to push Lord Trusbut over the edge, for he glanced over to his wife. “What do you think, Lillian? Is this something you would like to do?”

  Lady Trusbut stared down to where Raji chattered at her canary. “Well…you see, Edward, many of my friends are joining. And I can’t help thinking how sad it is that those poor children must suffer for their mothers’ crimes. If I could make myself useful to them…”

  It suddenly dawned on Louisa that the Trusbuts had no children, despite having been married practically forever. Her heart constricted to see how carefully the baroness handled her birds, how gentle she was with Raji.

  “We’d be delighted to have you bring a few canaries to the prison sometime,” Louisa said softly. “The children would adore hearing them sing.”

  Lady Trusbut brightened. “Do you really think so? Opal is the best for singing, though Emerald has a fine voice, too.” She held Emerald up to eye level. “What do you think, dear? Should you like to entertain some poor children?”

  The bird cocked its head, and Lady Trusbut nodded, then flashed Louisa a blazing smile. “She would be happy to go.”

  Louisa glanced at Lord Trusbut, who was staring at his wife with a haunting tenderness that made a lump lodge in Louisa’s throat. Oh, to be loved like that. It might make even the risk of childbearing worth it.

  Simon must have seen it, too, for his voice was thick when he spoke again. “Then it’s settled. Lady Trusbut will join Miss North’s little group.”

  Lord Trusbut’s gaze snapped to Simon, suddenly fierce. “But she will only go to Newgate if you are in attendance, too.”

  “Of course,” Simon said. “I will ensure her safety at all times.”

  The rest of the visit passed in a happy daze for Louisa. As she explained the project they were considering, she marveled at how easily Simon laid it out, how firm he was with Lord Trusbut about his assurance that it would be successful. Could this be? Could Simon really be this enthusiastic about their cause?

  And could it really be all for her?

  She dared not let herself believe that. Yet he’d defended her to an influential lord. He’d even agreed to accompany them to the prison, and before witnesses, too.

  Surely it couldn’t last. He had more important things to do than squire ladies back and forth to Newgate. Unless he was sincere about courting her…

  Warmth pooled in her belly at the thought. The devil certainly knew how to tempt her. She should know better than to trust him. Why, Sidmouth himself might have sent Simon to wreak havoc in their midst.

  But if so, Simon was going about it wrong, professing publicly to have taken “a personal interest” in their group. The Home Secretary wouldn’t like that at all.

  As they rose to leave, Simon stunned her by handing the bank draft back to Lord Trusbut. “Surely now you can find it in your heart to be more generous.”

  Shocked at his daring, she said, “Your Grace—”

  “No, the duke is right,” Lord Trusbut answered. “If my wife is to participate, I’m happy to oblige.”

  He invited Simon to go with him to his study, leaving her and Lady Trusbut alone. Casting a glance toward the open door, Lady Trusbut lowered her voice. “His Grace seems very enamored of you.”

  There’s no reason we can’t have both. Our ambitions. And our passions.

  Louisa managed a shaky laugh. “He’s merely helping me because of our family connection.”

  “Nonsense, my dear. No man is that solicitous of his sister’s relation for nothing. I can tell a serious suitor when I see one.”

  Just what she did not need. Or want.

  Except when he looked at her. And entwined her fingers with his. And ravished her mouth in the tempting dark of the night—

  “Shh, they return,” Lady Trusbut warned. As the two men approached from down the hall, she added, “I shall tell my friends Mrs. Peel and Mrs. Canning about your group as well. They are both quite the philanthropists.”

  Louisa gaped at the baroness’s generosity, as well as her astute choice of friends. Robert Peel and George Canning were both MPs who’d leaned toward supporting Louisa’s cause. If their wives were to join…

  Barely able to contain her excitement, Louisa squeezed the baroness’s hand. “That would be wonderful—thank you! The three of you should come to call next week, so I can further explain our group’s aims.”

  Then she and Simon took their leave and headed back for London, with dusk settling soft as silk on the sprouting green fields.

  Louisa let out a long breath. “I can’t believe how well that went! I’ve been trying to get Lady Trusbut to join for weeks.” She gave Simon’s arm a playful punch. “But you merely set Raji to work, and she offers to introduce me to her important friends. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  When Simon didn’t answer, she glanced over to where he tooled the phaeton with expert skill, looking pensive. “What’s wrong?” Her cheery mood dimmed. “Are you worried Lord Trusbut will change his mind and try to hurt your career?”

  “Hardly.” When he caught her questioning gaze on him, he forced a smile. “Trusbut’s a man of character. If he says he’ll support your group, then he will.”

  “Then why are you upset?”

  “I’m not upset. I…” He returned to staring at the road, his hands fisting on the reins. “Did you see how Trusbut looked at her?”

  “His wife? Yes. I thought it was very sweet.”

  For a moment, he said
nothing. When he spoke again, his voice held a wistfulness that tugged at her heart. “My father never once looked at my mother like that, not in all the years they were married.”

  She was surprised he would speak of something so personal. “Regina did say your parents were rather formal together.”

  “Formal?” He gave a harsh laugh. “Cold is closer to the truth. Father spent his time at his club, and Mother with her friends. Her fondness for faro was a sore subject with Grandfather Monteith. He believed my father corrupted his daughter.”

  “Is that why your grandfather made you his protégé? Because his son-in-law was a dissipated gambler?”

  “You could say that.” His voice held an odd edge. “It was probably no coincidence that Grandfather Monteith took me under his wing after the second of his two sons died. With my mother married, he had no one left to bully.”

  “Bully?” His vitriolic words surprised her. “What did your grandfather—”

  “He was merely strong-minded,” he said quickly, his expression veiled. He cast her a rueful smile. “Like me.”

  “But not like your father, I take it.”

  “No. My father had no ambition for anything but grouse hunting and whist. In the early years of their marriage, that fact annoyed my mother.” A weary resignation tinged Simon’s voice. “By the time she died, neither of them cared enough about the other for annoyance.”

  “If it’s any consolation, neither did my parents.”

  “Which ones?”

  She sighed. “Good point. But it’s true of either of my possible fathers. The king’s attention to Mama was limited to the bedchamber. And the man who gave me his name couldn’t have cared much for Mama, or he wouldn’t have let His Majesty carry on a shamelessly public long-term affair with her.”

  The pity in Simon’s face did nothing to lessen her hurt. “I’m sorry, Louisa.”

  “For what?” She forced reserve into her voice. “It’s not your fault that my mother was a…” Whore. But she couldn’t bring herself to say the word, although she’d heard her brother call Mama that often enough.

  Staring blindly at the road, she struggled to regain her composure. Odd how one’s past could jump up to bite a person at the most inopportune moment. “You knew Mama, didn’t you? She stayed with your family after Marcus banished her from Castlemaine.”

  He tensed. “I was at school.”

  “But surely not the whole time.” When he said nothing, she added, “Was she as much a…wanton as Marcus says?”

  He hesitated just long enough for her to know the answer. “No.”

  “Liar.”

  His gaze swung to her. “Does it matter?”

  “My family’s scandalous reputation was one of the reasons you thought me unsuitable for marriage, as you’ll recall.”

  “What makes you think I considered you unsuitable?”

  “It was fairly obvious when you left without marrying me. And then didn’t write or in any way show that you missed me.”

  “I did not believe that you would welcome letters from me after how I behaved to you. Indeed, even after I returned, I did not think you would countenance my courting you again. Not until we kissed.”

  “When I showed myself to be as wanton as my mother.”

  “Louisa—”

  “No, I want to know. Not about you and me—I suppose I understand why you behaved as you did. I want to know about my mother.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve always wondered what she was really like. When I was a child, she was hardly ever there.” Because she was perfectly content to ignore her children and her husband for the privileges of being a royal mistress. “Then after Papa died when I was ten and Marcus banished her, I wasn’t allowed to see her again.”

  She swallowed hard. Marcus had only done what he’d thought was right. But it still hurt that in the four years Mama had lived after leaving Castlemaine, she’d made no attempt to see her daughter. That’s why Louisa had clung so tightly to her half sister. Because Charlotte had been abandoned, too, left to the indifferent care of her royal father while her mother, Queen Caroline, took lovers abroad.

  It wasn’t right. No woman should put passion above her children. Better not to have children at all than to treat them with so little regard.

  Or die bearing them, leaving them to the fickle affections of their fathers.

  They drove in silence, past oat fields glittering greenly in the waning sun. When they entered a section of road near Richmond Park shrouded by overreaching oaks, even the clopping of the horses began to sound muted.

  She sighed. “Anyway, I thought…you might tell me—”

  “Beyond the physical resemblance you bear to your mother, you are nothing like her, if that is what worries you,” Simon said.

  Worry her? It plagued her constantly, her suspicion that she’d inherited her mother’s lustful nature. Simon had no idea how she burned in the night, the places she touched herself as she yearned for what she knew was bad for her.

  Then again, perhaps he did know. “Didn’t you claim just this afternoon that I am too passionate to be a spinster?” she said tartly.

  “A woman can be passionate without being a wanton, just as a man can enjoy a good meal without being a glutton. Wantons—and rakes—are gluttons for fleshly pleasure. They’re indiscriminate and unable to heed the call of conscience or reason, which often makes them behave recklessly.”

  “Like my mother.”

  His silence was her answer.

  Something suddenly occurred to her that sent a chill skating down her spine. “Did she ever…that is…were you and my mother ever—”

  “Certainly not. Your mother liked her men much older. When she stayed with us, I was only eighteen, far too young.” He stared blindly at the road. “For her, at least.”

  “What do you mean?” What other woman had been eager for a young lover? And why did the thought of a young Simon in the arms of some experienced older woman make jealousy burn in her belly?

  “Nothing.” He gazed down the road, his smooth statesman’s mask firmly back in place. “So you’re happy about the results of our visit, are you?”

  She wanted to press him, but was half-afraid to know what he meant. “Deliriously happy. It appears you were right—you can be very useful to my group.”

  He flicked the reins. “Does that mean you will allow me to advise you?”

  He was certainly making it hard to dismiss his offer. If Simon were the one pushing their reforms in Parliament, he’d win, assuming he could regain the influence he’d had before he’d left for India, and judging from Lord Trusbut’s reactions, it wouldn’t be long before he did just that.

  But was that what he was offering? Or was he just seeking to ruin their political efforts? “You still haven’t said how you stand on prison reform.”

  “I still haven’t seen what it entails.”

  That was precisely what bothered her—the way he evaded her questions.

  And the fact that accepting his help would mean being around him, talking to him…stirring up the old feelings for him. Feelings she didn’t dare act upon.

  Her heart thundered in her ears. Was it worth the risks?

  Before she could answer herself or him, something large and furry tumbled over her shoulder and fell into her lap. She laughed, relieved to put off the decision a while longer. “Raji, you little devil. I thought you preferred riding on the perch.”

  “Apparently not when you’re around.” Simon cast his pet a stern glance. “You should leave the poor woman be. She is not your keeper.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said, cradling the adorable creature in her arms.

  Simon said something in Hindi to his pet. They were about to pass under a low-hanging branch, and suddenly Raji scrambled up the hood of the phaeton, then leapt right onto the oak and disappeared.

  “Damn.” Simon brought the phaeton to a swift halt. “The rascal has a mind of his own. I must retrieve him before he scampers too far.” He sprang out, then
turned to her. “You should come, too. Since he’s fond of you, perhaps you can coax him back.”

  “Of course.” She let Simon help her down, then headed into the woods where Raji had disappeared. Simon gave his tiger some orders before joining her.

  She could see no sign of Raji, and began to worry that they would never find him. Even Simon’s shouted commands brought no results. After several moments of wandering and calling, they reached the end of the woods. Still no Raji.

  Simon turned to her. “We’ll have to wait until he tires of exploring. Which he will do eventually.”

  “But he could hurt himself!”

  “He’s a monkey. You may not realize it, sweetheart, but they actually spend most of their time in trees.”

  “Very funny,” she said, but the word “sweetheart” reverberated through her chest in a most alarming way.

  “We might as well wait for him to find us.” Simon gestured to a fallen oak. “Let’s sit, shall we?”

  She shot him a sharp glance. “Wouldn’t he find us more easily at the phaeton?”

  “Not necessarily.” He strode to the log and swept it clean with his leather driving gloves, which he then peeled off and slapped against his thigh. “Besides, I’d rather sit here than on the side of the dusty road, wouldn’t you?”

  Removing his frock coat, he laid it over the log, then gestured for her to take a seat. The fact that it left him scandalously clad in his shirtsleeves and striped waistcoat didn’t seem to occur to him.

  Or did it? Suspicion sputtered to life. “What did you say to Raji in Hindi that sent him leaping from the phaeton?”

  “I told him to leave you be.” Simon tossed his beaver top hat onto the log. “He must have taken it to mean he should run off.”

  “Fiddlesticks.” She planted her hands on her hips. “I saw how well you managed him today; he obeyed your every command. So admit it—you didn’t really tell him to leave me be, did you?”

  A reluctant smile touched his lips. “You are too clever for your own good.”

  “Too clever for the machinations of a scoundrel like you,” she scoffed. “Now tell me what you said to Raji.”