School For Heiresses 2- Only a Duke Will Do (14 page)

She stroked Raji’s fur, her voice lowering. “But it changes nothing. I’m still determined not to marry. Which is why I’ve…I’ve made my decision.”

He stiffened. “About what?”

“If you’re serious about helping us, then you can observe Mrs. Harris’s committee. But that is all. Because you and I are never going to work together.”

“Damn it, Louisa—” he began and stepped nearer, but Raji started caterwauling. Clenching his hands, Simon glowered at her. “Take some time to think about it. You are only alarmed right now because of what we nearly did.”

“I don’t need time. I know what I want.” I know what I have to do to keep myself safe. To stay the course.

The fury on his face chilled her to her bones. “For God’s sake—”

“That’s my final decision, Simon.” Scooping up her hat and fichu, she took off at a run through the woods, with Raji clinging to her bodice. She had to get back to the road, where the tiger was, where Simon would be forced to behave like a gentleman and she could retreat into the solace of her ladylike reserve again.

Avoiding the groom’s curious glances, she set Raji on the seat, then stuffed in her fichu, buttoned her spencer, and donned her hat. By the time she climbed into the rig, she’d hidden the evidence of her shameless encounter with Simon. She could only pray that his groom would be discreet. She heard thundering hooves coming from the direction of London and in case it was someone she knew, she bent her head to hide her face.

That proved useless when the carriage halted a scant few feet away. Too late, she recognized the crest and silver livery of her brother’s equipage.

Marcus leapt out, followed closely by Regina. “Why are you sitting out here by the side of the road?”

“I’m sorry, Louisa,” Regina said hastily, “but you know your brother. When he heard that I let you go alone with Simon to Lady Trusbut’s, he was furious.”

Thank heaven Louisa had returned to the phaeton before Marcus showed up, or he would be pummeling Simon into a bloody pulp right now.

“Deuce take it!” exclaimed Simon’s voice from the woods. “Why didn’t you—”

Louisa tensed. Leave it to him to choose the wrong moment to make his appearance. Her heart in her throat, she glanced at him, and let out a sigh of relief to find him fully dressed now. Her brother whirled on the duke with a vicious scowl. “What the hell is going on here, Foxmoor?”

“His Grace’s pet ran off into the woods,” Louisa said before Simon could answer, “and the duke went to look for him.”

That drew her brother’s anger back to her. “Oh? Then why is the monkey sitting in your lap?”

She thrust out her chin, well-accustomed to dealing with her bear of a brother. “Because he found his way back while the duke was out searching.” She shot Simon a glance as she took Raji into her arms. “

You see, Your Grace? Raji is safe.” Please don’t make trouble for me, she begged him silently. Simon sucked in a breath, and for an instant she feared he’d pronounce her a liar. She wouldn’t put it past him—compromising her would probably seem like a good way to force her to the altar. But he was in for a surprise if he tried it, because she would never let Marcus browbeat her into marrying anyone. Simon let out a breath, then approached them with an expression as unruffled as she hoped hers was. “

Typical Raji behavior, I’m afraid. The scamp took a notion to swing through the trees, and I half feared I wouldn’t find him.” He smiled coldly at her brother. “But he has a fondness for your sister. I should have known he would circle back to her.”

“Yes, and he’s fine now,” she put in.

Though her brother looked suspicious, his stance softened. “Well, neither of you should be out here after dark. The roads can be dangerous.”

“Yes.” Simon shifted his gaze to Louisa, a wealth of emotion glittering in the steely depths. “We were talking about the dangers of a lonely road earlier, weren’t we, Miss North?”

Impudent scoundrel—him and his “dangers of a lonely road.” What did he know about it? He’d never had to bear a child in blood and horror, never had to risk trusting someone who could easily turn into a tyrant after marrying her. Men had all the power in England. And if you couldn’t be sure you trusted the man—

She smiled sweetly. “Speaking of dangerous roads, I might as well ride back the rest of the way with Marcus. You’ll be home quicker if you don’t have to take me to the town house, Your Grace.”

“I don’t mind,” Simon bit out, his jaw taut with anger.

“I know.” She set Raji on the seat, then leapt down from the phaeton before anyone could stop her. “But this will be easier.”

Indeed, now that she no longer feared being caught in a passionate embrace with Simon, she wanted to kiss her overprotective brother for coming after her.

As she walked toward Marcus’s carriage, she told Simon, “I do hope you enjoy observing Mrs. Harris’s committee, sir. And thank you for helping with the Trusbuts. It was most kind of you.”

“We’ll see you Tuesday, won’t we, Simon?” Regina chirped behind her. Louisa stifled a groan. She’d forgotten that she’d asked him to join them. She could hardly get out of it now.

The cursed rogue knew it, too, for a sudden smile split his face. “Oh, I’ll be there. I’m looking forward to it.”

Jerking her gaze from his gloating expression, Louisa stepped up to her brother’s carriage, but before Marcus could help her inside, Simon added, “Aren’t you forgetting something, Miss North?”

She turned toward him, her heart nearly stopping when she saw what he held out to her. Her gloves. The ones he’d tucked in his pockets.

Ignoring her brother’s scowl, she walked over to take them from Simon. How she wished she could use them to slap the mocking smile off his face. “Thank you.” Hastily, she slipped them on her hands. “I forgot I’d removed them to feed Raji at Lady Trusbut’s. I’m so glad you remembered that I’d given them to you.”

It was a creaky tale at best, which was why his low laugh made her want to kick him. But at least he didn

’t try to sabotage her claim. “You’re welcome, Miss North. I am always happy to be of service to you.”

His eyes drifted down to her crooked fichu, and she thanked the heavens that she blocked Marcus’s view of his knowing gaze.

Simon’s voice was a rough rumble that stopped the breath in her throat. “Next time we’re alone, I’ll be sure to leave my pesky monkey at home.”

She couldn’t mistake his meaning, or the firmness of purpose that darkened his handsome face.

“There will be no next time,” she murmured. “I promise you that.”

As she headed for Marcus’s carriage, she felt Simon’s hot gaze scorching her. If he ever got her alone again, the fever in his blood was liable to ignite the fever in hers, and they’d erupt in flames together, burning everything to ash before them—everything she’d planned, everything she’d worked for. As she, Marcus, and Regina set off in the carriage, she didn’t look out the window to see if Simon stood watching them leave. With Regina and Marcus there, she didn’t dare. When she caught her brother scowling, she met his gaze coolly. “Do you have something to say, Marcus?

”

“Take care, angel. Foxmoor is still a dangerous man.”

“Marcus!” Regina cried. “My brother is not the ogre you paint him.”

“No? Have you forgotten how he manipulated even you—”

“That was years ago,” Regina said. “He’s not the same man he was then.”

“I’m not so sure,” Marcus said. “He’s still toying with my sister’s heart.”

“Fiddlesticks.” Louisa forced lightness into her tone. “My heart has been boarded up against the duke for years. You needn’t worry about me with him.”

Marcus lifted an eyebrow. “Then why did he have your gloves? I’m no fool, Louisa. I know how a man like him works.”

“Probably much the way you worked on the many occasions when you and Regina got into trouble before you married her.”

Regina’s smothered laugh merely made Marcus’s scowl deepen. “That was different. Regina and I were in love.”

Louisa sighed. She certainly couldn’t claim that for her and Simon. Just because they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other didn’t mean they were in love. Reckless, perhaps. Insane, most definitely. But not in love.

“Simon and I aren’t taking up with each other again. He has agreed to help the London Ladies Society, but that’s all.” She flashed her brother a blithe smile.

Marcus snorted. “I saw how he looked at you, like you were a plump partridge he ached to pluck. Has it occurred to you that his sudden interest might be part of a scheme for enacting his revenge on you for what you did to him?”

The chill that coursed through her banished her smile. That had never occurred to her; she’d been too busy looking for some political reason for his behavior. She’d never once thought his motive might be as simple as revenge.

Because he’d said he’d put the past behind him. Because he’d claimed to have recognized that what he’d done to her was wrong.

Because he’d kissed her like a man who meant it.

But his kisses could lie—they had before. Oh, she was such an idiot, not to consider the most obvious reason for distrusting him.

“Ignore Marcus,” Regina said. “Simon would never be so diabolical—”

“That’s what you claimed seven years ago,” Marcus snapped.

“He was a brash young idiot then. Since that time, he has done much good for his country. He learned from his mistakes. I’m sure of it.” She glared at her husband. “Even you once admitted that his tenure as Governor-General was above reproach.”

A muscle ticked in Marcus’s jaw. “That was before he started pursuing my sister again. And before I got wind of—”

When he broke off, Louisa’s stomach knotted. “Of what?”

“It’s just a rumor, and I can’t even be sure it’s true, but…” Marcus sighed. “Supposedly Sidmouth and his friends were thinking about trying to ruin your reputation irretrievably—by having some idiot compromise you.”

The ache in her belly intensified. “And you think that Simon—”

“I don’t know, angel. I’m just saying it’s possible.”

“He would never do such a horrible thing!” Regina protested.

“He might.” Louisa cringed to remember him asking if she wanted to be his mistress. He hadn’t been serious. Had he?

“It doesn’t matter what his motives are,” she said tightly. “I don’t intend to be alone with him again, so he couldn’t possibly ruin my reputation.”

“Now, Louisa—” Regina began.

“I mean it, Regina. I know you hope that Simon and I will marry one day, but it’s never going to happen. This is best for everyone, I assure you.”

Now if only she could convince her silly heart.

Chapter Eleven

Dear Cousin,

No need for apologies. As for Foxmoor and Louisa, if the duke thinks marrying her will enable him to keep her under his thumb, he is in for a surprise. I have never met a woman as determined to go her own way as Louisa.

Ever your friend,

Charlotte

T he Monday evening after Simon had last kissed Louisa, he restlessly prowled one of Travellers’

drawing rooms. Of all his clubs, Travellers was the only one with a sufficient diversity of newspapers to suit his purposes. But after poring over back issues of the radical press for two hours, he’d lost patience with the task.

Partly because what he had read upset him more than he had expected. But mostly because the same damned female who had haunted his nights now bedeviled his days, as well. He could still taste her lilac-scented flesh, still hear her delicious moans of pleasure, still feel the soft yielding of her beneath his hand.

Bloody hell. He paced between the fluted columns, grateful that the club’s inhabitants were in the card room or dining, leaving the drawing room to him. If they saw him so agitated, they would torment him unmercifully with questions.

He’d suffered enough torment already. And what the devil was he to do about it after he had driven her away?

That’s what happens when you let your cock overrule your reason.

“Shut up, old man,” he muttered at his grandfather’s voice. The memories of his grandfather’s cynical remarks had not plagued him so in India. Except for the brief period after his misjudgment at Poona, the voices had died once Simon had received word of Grandfather’s death, shortly after arriving in India. But now that he had returned, and Louisa was tying him into knots…

He groaned. Grandfather’s criticism was well-deserved this time; he had indeed let his cock rule his reason. He had frightened her off. And he could not for the life of him figure out how to regain lost ground.

After her cold leave-taking, he had expected her to avoid his call this morning. Instead she had accepted it like any society lady—with rigid courtesy and impenetrable self-assurance. Only Regina’s presence had kept him from grabbing Louisa by her pretty arms and shaking her senseless. What would it take to convince her to trust him? Kisses and caresses did not work, and she merely twisted his offer of help into an excuse for avoiding him.

Stubborn wench. Bloody female.

“Foxmoor,” said a thready voice behind him, and he whirled, prepared to snap off the head of whomever had dared bother him.

But he choked down the angry words as soon as he saw who it was—the Home Secretary himself. And the man’s good friend Castlereagh, the Foreign Secretary.

“Sidmouth,” he said tersely.

Sidmouth approached Simon with the cautious care of a hound sniffing ’round a porcupine. As well he should. At the moment, Simon would enjoy spiking the scrawny fellow’s nose with a few choice quills. Sidmouth’s gaze flicked to the newspaper Simon had left open on a table, something called the London Monitor, published by a hothead named Godwin. The Home Secretary scowled, then shifted his gaze back to Simon. “I hear you’ve been spending time with that flock of hens who flutter about Miss North.”

“My sister is one of that flock, so be careful what you say.”

“The king told me in confidence that you mean to curb their activities. Yet I hear you wangled two hundred pounds out of Trusbut for their cause.” Sidmouth’s pasty cheeks pinkened. “You know they’ll use the money to put forth their candidate.”

“If they get the chance, yes. But I don’t intend to let them.”