Then she recognized the other voice. The king. Her father.
“I swear, I will talk to him when the time is right,” the king was saying. “I promise I will uphold my part of the bargain.”
Bargain? What bargain?
“And that is why you are skulking about my study on my wedding night?” Simon snapped. “Of course not. You knew I would be occupied elsewhere, so you sneaked in here to steal our agreement. Then I could not use it against you when you trotted in tomorrow to announce that you had reneged.”
The blood pounded in Louisa’s ears. What bargain had he reneged on? And what agreement?
“I did not renege,” the king protested. “It is just that the marriage happened so quickly I didn’t have time to arrange—”
“You said that already,” Simon remarked. “See here, I do not want to discuss this now. My wife awaits. But just so you will stop this foolishness, I should point out that I am not stupid enough to keep the damned papers here. They are locked up at my solicitor’s. So your little search is all for naught.”
“You won’t use them, will you?” The king sounded panicked.
“I ought to.”
“But you have to give me more time to gain Liverpool’s resignation,” the king said in alarm. “If you go to the press—”
“I am not going to the press,” Simon said wearily. “I am not ready to commit political suicide just yet. And the last thing I want is for my wife to know that her father offered me certain inducements to marry her.”
Just like that, the bottom dropped out of her world.
Certain inducements.
Oh, of course.
Clutching her stomach, Louisa prayed she could make it back to her bedchamber without retching. How could she have considered every possible scenario to explain Simon’s interest in her, except the most obvious—her father and his machinations? She’d let the “falling out” between Simon and her father sway her, but it had so obviously been another of their schemes.
Bile rose in her throat, and she paused to steady herself with a hand on a console table. Oh no, what was she to do now? She was trapped in a marriage with him. Forever.
What an utter fool she’d been! How could she possibly have thought Simon had changed, that he would truly care for her? This was the real Simon. This was how he always worked.
She stumbled another few steps before Raji scampered out of the study and threw his arms about her leg. He must have smelled her.
She frantically tried to shake him off, not wanting Simon to know she was here, but he wouldn’t let go. “Stop that,” she whispered. “Go back!”
“Raji!” Simon came into the hall after his pet, then halted. “Oh God, no.”
Slowly Louisa faced him, hardly even aware of the tears that stung her eyes. Feeling like an actress in some horrible farce, she held up Raji’s toy canary. “I thought Raji might want…” She trailed off as the carving slipped from her fingers and rolled across the floor.
While Raji dashed after it, Simon stepped toward her. “This is not what you think.” He looked stricken, even remorseful. But that only made it worse. “Your father and I—”
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t invent a lot of nonsense that we both know I’ll never believe now.”
“What is it, Foxmoor?” The king lumbered into the hall, then paled as he saw his daughter. “Er…good evening, my dear.”
Her gaze still locked with Simon’s, she choked out, “We missed you at the wedding, Your Majesty.” Pain sharpened her tone. “Didn’t you want to make sure you got what you paid for?” She waved her ring finger in the air, the heavy gold band feeling like a shackle. “Well, you did. I’m married to your friend and out of your hair at last. Happy now?”
The king’s chubby cheeks flushed as he apparently realized what she’d heard. “Louisa, I only did what I thought was best for you—”
“Best for me!” Hot tears scalded her cheeks. “You bought me a husband whom you knew had always…despised…me…” The tears fell full force now, and she dashed them away, frantic to keep her dignity at least.
“I never despised you,” Simon said in a ragged whisper.
“There now, poppet, you see? It’s not like that.” Her father came toward her. “I knew Foxmoor wanted to marry you. He just needed a little incentive—”
“Be quiet, will you?” Simon hissed at her father. “You have done more than enough damage for one night.”
“But I want to explain, damn it,” His Majesty shot back.
“Not tonight,” Simon bit out.
“Oh no,” Louisa said fiercely, the word “incentive” pounding into her brain. “I want to hear His Majesty’s explanation. I want to hear what awful thing I did that would make him bargain to marry me off to the very man who once betrayed me.”
Her father’s eyes narrowed. “See here, you impudent chit, I warned you not to get involved with those Quakers. I begged you to consider what you were doing. But you were so blasted stubborn, worse than even your brother. And then the MPs started coming to me, complaining about your politics—”
“And you figured that Simon, of all people, would know how to reel me in?” The pain of it threatened to destroy any remnants of remaining pride.
“Damn it, girl,” the king bit out, “you were talking about putting up candidates for office. Radicals, even!”
She blinked, momentarily taken off guard. “You knew about Godwin?”
“Godwin!” Simon put in. “Charles Godwin? Owner of the London Monitor? He’s your candidate?”
She leveled Simon with a cool glance. “And what if he is?”
“You see?” The king cast Simon a triumphant glance. “I told you she was a loose cannon. Reckless and thoughtless, that’s what she is, letting herself be manipulated by radicals—”
“Enough!” Simon growled as Louisa stood in mute horror at her father’s words. “Leave, damn you!”
The king drew himself up with royal indignation. “You cannot speak to me like that, Foxmoor, even if you did marry my daughter.”
Simon took a step toward him. “If you do not leave this instant—”
“Fine, I shall go.” The king sniffed. “But remember that you promised—”
“Get out!” Simon roared, his expression so enraged, it even frightened Louisa. “Before I throw you out!”
“All right, all right.” Her father rushed past her. “I’ll call on you in a day or so.”
“Wonderful,” Simon muttered as the king disappeared. “Now that you have ruined my wedding night, do come back and see if you can ruin my marriage.”
“Don’t blame him,” Louisa snapped. “You ruined your own marriage.”
She headed for the stairs, needing to be alone to nurse her hurt. But she should have known Simon would never allow it.
He raced up behind her. “So that’s it?” he ground out as he kept step beside her. “You won’t even let me explain? You’re just going to march upstairs and closet yourself in your room to tally up my many offenses against you.”
“Something like that.”
Grabbing her by the arm, he swung her around. “The devil you are!”
“Was any of it true?” The seeming concern in his face wounded her even more. “The supposed interest in my group, your claims to feel affection for me, that…nonsense about how I’ve been a fever in your blood—”
“Every word was true,” he said hoarsely. “I did my best not to lie to you.”
“Except when you promised to let me continue my activities after we married.”
“That, too. I swore on my honor, and I will hold to what I said.”
“Until I am with child.” A sickening realization hit her. “That’s why you agreed to my terms, isn’t it? Because you figured that you would have me enceinte within a short time, and then I’d have to stop anyway.”
The flash of guilt across his face was her answer.
“Oh, I should have known…” she whispered.
“I
t was not as calculating as all that,” he broke in. “Don’t make it sound as if everything between us was just—”
“Part of your bargain with my father. Well, it was, wasn’t it? You clearly promised him you would marry me and put an end to my work if he made you prime minister.” Awareness dawned. “That’s what you were fighting about—the letter of resignation that he didn’t get for you from Lord Liverpool.”
“All right, all right, yes. Your father did agree to make me prime minister if I married you, but—”
“So everything you said was a lie—every tender word and kiss.”
“No, damn it!” He caught her by her arms and pulled her closer. “You can’t believe that. You know I want you. From the moment I saw you again that first night at my sister’s, I knew I had to have you. So when your father came to me, concerned about your activities, willing to offer me a few advantages to marry you, I admit it, I saw nothing wrong with—”
“Gaining everything you wanted—me in your bed and the position as prime minister.”
“There was more to it than that, deuce take it,” he said, eyes glittering. “Once your father told me what you were doing, I was as worried about you as he. And with good reason, considering what happened on the docks.”
“Don’t pretend you did this because you care about me,” she whispered. “You used that incident at the dock to compromise me, to force me to marry you.”
“That was not what I started out to do, and you know it. I called for a doctor, for God’s sake!”
I will not risk seeing you end up dead.
She shook off the memory. Simon was very good at pretending to care. “You still turned it to your benefit, the way you do everything. You wanted to give my father what he asked for—getting me out of politics.” Despair gripped her. “Was what I did really so very awful that you would go behind my back—”
“Men were talking about ruining your reputation to stop your meddling, Louisa,” Simon snapped, “so clearly someone thought you were reckless.”
“And you?” She stared at him. “You saw the prison, the women, the children. Did you think my activities reckless?”
“When you’re talking about putting up radical candidates, yes.” As she opened her mouth to retort, he added quickly, “I am not going to discuss politics with you right now, when you are too angry to think rationally.”
His condescension infuriated her. “I am perfectly rational, sir. Enough to know when I’ve been bested by a master.” She drew herself up stiffly. “You set out to have your cake and eat it, too. And you would have succeeded if I hadn’t—” A sob rose in her throat that she ruthlessly stifled. “Unfortunately, in this case the cake just happens to have an opinion about the matter.”
Wrenching her arm free, she backed away. “There is nothing I can do to remove the cake from your grasp. Even if it were possible, a divorce is out of the question. A scandal would destroy my reform efforts as surely as marrying you probably will.” She tugged her wrapper closer about her body. “But I’ll be damned before I let you eat your cake, as well.”
Whirling around, she headed for the stairs.
“What the devil does that mean?” he demanded as he raced to keep up with her.
“I will be your wife in public, because you leave me no choice. But you can forget about ever sharing my bed.”
He swore a vile oath. “You are only saying that to strike back at me. When you calm down, you will realize—”
“I made one mistake. I shan’t make another. You can’t stop me from my activities if you don’t get me with child, so I’ll make sure you never do.”
“What?” He stepped in front of her on the stairs to block her path. “You can’t do that, damn you! I’m your husband!”
“Yes, because I was stupid enough to think you had changed. But you’re the same Simon you always were, and I did not agree to marry that Simon.”
Fury and candlelight lent his face an unholy glow. “Unfortunately, only one Simon signed the marriage certificate and made his vows, so you are married to that Simon whether you like it or not.” He backed her down the stairs with implacable steps. “And if you refuse to honor the marriage in every way, then your association with the London Ladies will end right now.”
A chill ran down her spine. “But you promised—”
“You swore in a church to be my wife, to honor, serve, and obey me. If you go back on your promise, I sure as the devil can go back on mine.”
How dare he? She had a right to be angry after what he’d done. Yet he would punish her for what he had done?
She would not let him think he could get ’round her, the scheming scoundrel. “You can’t stop me from doing as I please.”
“You think not, do you?” He moved inexorably forward, forcing her down the stairs. “If not for my ambitions, you and I would already be on our honeymoon. Yet as much as I wish to stay in London right now, if I hear that you have even attempted to meet with the London Ladies, whether at the prisons or someone’s home, I swear I will whisk you off to Italy or Spain or some other spot on the Continent. And we will stay there a year, if that is what it takes to bring you to your senses.”
She thrust out her chin. “You wouldn’t do that—leaving England would hurt your plans to become prime minister.”
“No more than having a wife consorting with radicals would. So what is it to be, Louisa? A real marriage as we agreed? Or no cake for anyone?”
She stared at him, seething. “Go to hell.”
He recoiled as if she’d slapped him. Then his eyes narrowed. “Not without you.” And before she could do anything to prevent it, he dragged her up against him and kissed her hard.
Her temper white-hot, she’d already brought her hands up to shove him away when he drew back, his eyes boring into her like shards of ice. “I could make you share my bed if I choose. It is my right.”
“Go ahead,” she retorted. “But afterward you’d better sleep with a dagger at your side, because I swear I will kill you for it.”
Twisting free of him, she dashed past him and up the steps. Thankfully, he didn’t come after her, because she was half-afraid she would push him down the stairs if he did.
How dare he threaten her! He was the one in the wrong. He was the one who’d promised her father behind her back that he would curb her activities.
He also said he would uphold his promise to let you continue with the London Ladies, until you got his back up.
Oh, that was just his excuse. Eventually he would have trumped up some other reason for restricting her. It didn’t serve his purposes to let her be part of the London Ladies, and Simon the Schemer always did what served his purposes.
As tears stung her eyes once again, she burst into her bedchamber and slammed the door. She was not going to waste tears on that wretch. She was not!
Dashing them away, she paced the floor. Nor would she let him get his way this time. Not for nothing had she spent the past few years teaching women how to get around their husbands.
Dictate her activities to her, would he? No cake for anyone, eh? Well, she’d just see about that. By the time she was done with the Duke of Foxmoor, he would rue the day he’d ever schemed to marry her.
Chapter Eighteen
Dear Charlotte,
Surely Foxmoor would not have married her without feeling something deeper for her, not when there are countless more eligible females to hand. Still, you must admit passion has its place. It doesn’t make up for everything perhaps, but certainly a great deal.
Your cousin,
Michael
Two evenings after his thwarted wedding night, Simon strode into his dining room, then cursed as he saw the empty chair at the other end of the table. Still sulking, was she? “Where is my wife?” he asked the footman.
“She asked that a tray be brought up to her room. I took it up already.”
So he couldn’t even commandeer the tray in an attempt to see her.
Good God, he was thinking
like a besotted idiot again. This was what his own wife had reduced him to, damn her.
And damn the king, too, and the whole bloody family. He must have been insane to get himself mixed up with them again. Louisa was volatile, her father a fool, and her brother a nuisance at best. He ought to wash his hands of the lot.
But he couldn’t. He was married to her now, God help him.
With a groan, he took his usual seat at the table. His latest strategy wasn’t working. After his temper had cooled, he had thought he would give her time for hers to cool, and then perhaps they could have a reasonable conversation.
Bloody stubborn female. “Reasonable” wasn’t in her vocabulary.
Of course, his ultimatum had not helped. But he’d be damned if he would rescind his order. She was not going to twist him about her finger. He was the head of this house, by God, and she would learn to accept that if it took forever.
A sigh escaped his lips. Right. As if he could last forever in this limbo. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. During the day, he only half paid attention to what was said in the House, and at night, during his hunt through Grandfather’s letters, he had to read most of them twice.
What the deuce did she do all day, anyway? She didn’t go walking—he had charged a footman to accompany her if she did. Whenever he was home, he heard her moving around in the room adjoining his and saw the trays left outside her door. Apparently she ate in the dining room when he was in sessions.
The footman set a bowl of something white in front of him, and he tensed at this other, more tangible proof of her presence. “What is this?” he barked.
“Smoked fish soup, sir.’”
Made with milk, no doubt. Milk-based soups and sauces turned his stomach, always had. His cook did not know that because he had been hired after Simon’s return, with the other servants. So all of them would accept whatever Louisa claimed about his likes and dislikes.
And where had she learned what those were anyway?
He had a fairly good idea. “My sister came to call today, did she?”
“Yes, Your Grace. How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
Only a Duke Will Do Page 18
