“Trying, but not succeeding, I’m afraid,” he said with a sigh.
“I can help, if you want. With two of us hunting through them, we might find what you’re looking for.”
“That possibility becomes more remote by the day. I’ve never been certain I could find anything, anyway. Grandfather was too crafty—and too conscious of his public image—to keep something that might cause a scandal.”
She drew back to stare at him. “You don’t seem to hold your grandfather in quite as high an esteem as the rest of the world does.”
“The rest of the world didn’t know him,” he said tersely. “The rest of the world never had to endure his ‘training.’”
Her eyes narrowed. “What exactly did your grandfather do to prepare you for replacing him as prime minister?”
Simon’s expression grew shuttered. “He was a stern taskmaster.”
“It had to be more—”
“I do not want to talk about that now.” He slid his hand inside her wrapper to caress her bare belly. “Did you not mention something earlier about giving me relief from my condition?”
When she started to speak again he kissed her hard, with a fervency clearly born out of something more than desire. He really didn’t want to discuss his grandfather.
She considered pressing the matter, but he’d revealed more about himself in the past few moments than he had in the whole time she’d known him. She didn’t want to discourage him from confiding in her in the future.
So she kissed him and let him think he was taking her mind off it.
She’d always thought of Simon as devious, but perhaps “secretive” was a better word. He kept secrets because he couldn’t bear to face them in the light of day. And though she suspected that he still held his darkest secrets close, she could be patient until he revealed those, too.
After all, she understood what it was like to keep secrets. Except that her secret could affect her marriage enormously if she revealed it. And she wasn’t quite ready to do that, not when they were only now coming to know each other.
That was why, when he led her up to their bedchamber, she was grateful she’d already put in a fresh sponge before coming in search of him.
Over the next few days, however, the sponges got harder to manage. At night it was no trouble, for she simply insisted that her maid undress her before Simon came to her bed. And though he hinted that they could both sleep in the master bed, she pretended that she slept better alone. How else could she hurry to her dressing room to remove the sponge and clean herself with warm water as the shopkeeper in Spitalfields had instructed?
Fortunately, Simon accepted her behavior. Both her parents and his had always slept apart; those who could afford separate bedchambers usually did. Still, it pained her to have to gently request that he retire to his own bedchamber after they’d made love.
It was the other times that were a real problem—the times when he kissed her in the drawing room or the dining room or the music room. Once her blood started to heat and his hands to roam, it took all her control to insist that they retire to her bedchamber instead of letting her overeager husband take her on some sofa. Which actually sounded intriguing.
So she’d begun spending her spare time in his study, where Raji held sway and wouldn’t allow any seducing. But just this morning at breakfast Simon had joked about her hiding behind Raji. If she weren’t more careful, jokes could soon turn to suspicion. Given their newly married status, Simon had every reason to expect them to enjoy each other often. She wanted them to enjoy each other often.
She also wanted not to be forced into having children just yet.
This evening, however, she needn’t worry about being tempted. The London Ladies were meeting to discuss their candidate.
As part of their agreement, Simon planned to attend the meeting. She’d even held it at the end of the day so he wouldn’t have to miss Parliamentary sessions.
He walked into the drawing room, where she was already seated with Mrs. Harris, Regina, and Mrs. Fry, right on time, and took a seat across from her at the card table.
The minute Mrs. Harris mentioned Charles Godwin, it was clear he meant to get his own way, as usual.
“You do know that Godwin is a radical,” Simon said.
“And what’s wrong with that?” Louisa asked. “Parliament could use a few radicals these days.”
“Yes, it could,” he surprised her by saying. “And with the mood of the country the way it is right now, you might even succeed in getting him elected. His newspaper gives him an edge that other radical candidates might not have.”
“That was my thought, too,” Louisa said, a little mollified.
“But that doesn’t mean he would help your cause.” Simon sat back in his chair. “Did you ladies pay attention to what happened after the St. Peter’s Field affair?”
Louisa scowled. “Of course. Parliament behaved abominably, demonstrating yet again that they are behind the times. When they won’t even support reform of the election process—”
“They never will, if you keep throwing radicals at them,” Simon put in.
“And I suppose you support parliamentary reform.”
“Absolutely. If England is to continue to be powerful, it must give the vote to more than the same few landowners. The people must have a voice.”
The fervency in his tone surprised her. Parliamentary reform was not supported by Sidmouth and his cohorts. And they, like the king, had wanted Simon to silence her by marrying her.
She must never forget that. It was why Simon was at this meeting, after all.
Yet he seemed sincere. “You begin to sound like a radical yourself, sir.”
“Hardly. Unlike Godwin, I mean to work within the present system. He only wants to uproot it.”
That sounded more like Sidmouth. “To supplant it with something better.”
“Perhaps. Though I seriously doubt that having Godwin roam the country inciting insurgency will bring about real change. It will only spawn more Peterloo Massacres, and I know that you don’t want that.”
“He does have a point,” Regina put in.
Yes, he did, and that annoyed Louisa. Simon wasn’t supposed to be the voice of reason here. “But he is still one of Sidmouth’s crowd, and striking fear of revolution into the hearts of voters is their favorite tactic.”
Simon fixed her with a dark glance. “Surely you can trust me to give my own opinion in this, sweetheart.”
“I trust you in everything else, but not when it comes to politics. You’re still too much the statesman to be trusted in that arena.”
Irritation sparked in his eyes. “Have you no other candidates to consider?”
“Two others,” Regina said. “William Duncombe and Thomas Fielden.”
Simon’s face brightened. “Fielden is an excellent choice. Support him, and no one would quarrel.”
“No one would listen to him, either,” Louisa said. “It would be just like having Mrs. Fry’s brother-in-law in the Commons.” She shot Mrs. Fry an apologetic glance. “No offense.”
“None taken, dear,” Mrs. Fry said. “Still, Mr. Buxton has paved the way for us to present the situation to the Commons.”
“But what good is that if they don’t do something about it? How long can our group continue to afford matrons and teachers? And even if Newgate is markedly better, there are other prisons we don’t have the resources to address.”
“These things require patience,” Mrs. Fry said.
“Which is not Louisa’s strong suit,” Regina said.
Louisa scowled at her. “We’ve bided our time for three years. We need government assistance, and we need it now, not three years from now.”
“Newgate has been a prison for hundreds of years, sweetheart,” Simon said dryly. “I don’t imagine it will worsen anytime soon.”
The flippant comment raised her hackles, and she drew herself up with a haughty glare. “That’s exactly the sort of thing Sidmouth says to justif
y ignoring the plight of those poor women.”
His eyes narrowed. “No, Sidmouth says that they do not deserve help. I am not saying that. I am merely pointing out that everything moves slowly in politics.”
Enough of this. “Tell me something, Simon. If you were given the choice between becoming prime minister or championing prison reform, which would you choose?”
The room fell silent and he glanced about to find the other women looking at him expectantly.
Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, he turned his gaze to Louisa. “Becoming prime minister, of course.” When she bristled, he said firmly, “Because I can do more good as prime minister than as a duke on the fringes of politics, pushing for prison reform. And sometimes the greater good is more important.”
“That’s the excuse every tyrant in history has used to justify his actions. Liverpool used it when he suspended habeas corpus a few years ago.”
“And there was such an outcry from the people that it didn’t stay suspended long. That is how you hold tyranny in check in England. Not by electing radicals.”
She glanced around at the other women. “I suppose you all agree with him.”
“Not I,” Mrs. Harris said stoutly. “I think Mr. Godwin is perfectly capable of a campaign that doesn’t degenerate into violence or anarchy.”
“Ah, but Mr. Godwin is your friend,” Mrs. Fry pointed out. “Of course you think that.”
“You have your own bias, Mrs. Fry.” Louisa shot Simon a cold glance. “Which my husband is taking advantage of. He knows that any possibility of violence, however remote, makes Quakers balk at supporting a candidate.”
“I am merely pointing out,” Simon said tersely, “that you should consider all three candidates thoroughly before putting your weight behind Godwin. Ask them what they would do in certain situations. Determine just how reckless Godwin is. I would be happy to help you interview them, if you’d like.”
“I’m sure you would,” Louisa muttered.
“Come now, Louisa, you would be there to hold me in check.” A sudden gleam sparked in Simon’s eye. “Bring Raji, too. Then you could have him bite me every time I said something you did not like. God knows the little rascal will do anything you command.”
The gentle jest made the other ladies laugh, and even Louisa couldn’t suppress a smile. “I seriously doubt Raji would bite you, no matter who commanded it. He’s no fool. He knows who feeds him.”
“Funny how he forgets that whenever I try to kiss you,” Simon said in a husky voice. “Then he turns into the knight errant protecting his mistress from the evil seducer.”
Louisa blushed and the other ladies exchanged knowing glances.
Regina glanced at the clock. “The hour grows late, does it not, ladies? Perhaps we should give our newly married friends their privacy.”
“Oh, do not break up the meeting on my account,” Simon said. “I have a whole night ahead of me in which to…draw Raji’s ire.”
Torn between leaping into his arms and throttling him for dragging them off the topic, Louisa opened her mouth to speak, then froze when something touched her foot. Simon had slipped off his shoe and was caressing her slippered foot with his stockinged one beneath the table.
A delicious thrill coursed through her that she ruthlessly ignored. Casting him a warning glance, she pushed his foot away. “We’re not ending this meeting until we decide what to do about our candidates.”
“Of course.” Simon’s eyes locked with hers as he slid his foot under her skirts to fondle her calf. “I am willing to stay here as long as necessary.”
“There’s no need for that,” Mrs. Harris said. “Much as I still think Mr. Godwin the best choice, it won’t hurt to compare them thoroughly. His Grace is right—why not interview all three men? We can…”
Louisa scarcely heard a word, for Simon’s foot was sliding up past her knee, and she was terrified that one of the other women would notice.
At the same time, the wanton part of her wondered how far he would take it.
“Louisa?” Mrs. Harris said. “Do you agree?”
She jumped. “I…er…that is…” Now Simon’s toe was tracing lazy circles on the inside of her thigh. “What was the question again?”
When the ladies laughed, Simon flashed her one of his bedroom smiles. “Just say yes, sweetheart. So we can adjourn.”
Mrs. Harris took pity on her and repeated the question about whether she could hold the interviews in four days’ time at Foxmoor House. Louisa nodded, cursing Simon and his distractions. Clearly the group was going to proceed with caution whether she liked it or not, thanks to him.
She seethed the entire time they were seeing the ladies out. As soon as they were gone, she scowled at Simon. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
He cast her a look of perfect innocence. “What?”
She headed for the stairs. “Drew them off the subject of politics by mentioning Raji. Then…tried to seduce me with your foot.”
“I would have tried to seduce you with something else, but I think the ladies would have objected if I’d dragged you onto my lap.”
“Drat it, Simon—”
He stopped her with a kiss, drawing her into his arms before she could even react. For a moment, she succumbed to the heady sweetness of his mouth.
Then she caught herself and pushed him away. “You’re only kissing me to keep me from talking about politics.” She hurried up the stairs. “Just as you brought up Raji to take my meeting off course.”
He kept pace with her easily. “You credit me with more deviousness than even I am capable of. The truth is, I have spent the entire day thinking about the moment when I could return home to make love to my wife.”
The husky comment melted her. A pox on her randy husband.
She reached the next floor and started for his study, but he stepped in front of her. “But I did participate in your meeting,” he said. “I listened to your ladies’ opinions and considered them carefully. Given the differences in our views—and the fact that my mind was on something else—I would say I was most accommodating.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Until the discussion stopped going your way. Then you used one of your tricks to distract the ladies so you could influence them to your point of view.”
He muttered an oath under his breath. “I hate to tell you, but you are alone in wanting to pursue radicalism. Even Mrs. Harris has an open mind. And the only reason you don’t is because I disapprove, and it annoys you to agree with me.”
“That’s not true!” she protested, despite the kernel of truth in his words. “And furthermore—”
He kissed her again, this time holding her head still so he could really plunder her mouth. When he drew back, she stared up at him with dazed eyes. “You don’t play fair,” she grumbled. “You would never try this tactic on any of your political opponents.”
He chuckled. “Can you imagine Sidmouth’s reaction if I did?”
She caught her breath. “Sidmouth isn’t your opponent.”
Simon froze as he realized what he’d said. “I…did not mean that how it sounded.”
The devil he didn’t. “So you do agree with Sidmouth’s policies? You want to see him continue in office?”
“Sidmouth is a necessary evil. I have to play his game—and the king’s—if I want to become prime minister.”
“And after that?” She remembered that he’d been on the wrong side in the issue of parliamentary reform. Perhaps that wasn’t the only issue. “Would Sidmouth be part of your cabinet if you became prime minister?”
He hesitated a long moment. “No.” When her face lit up, he added, “But that is not something I want generally known, even among your friends, Do you understand?”
“Perfectly,” she exclaimed, too excited to contain her delight.
“I mean it, Louisa. Not a word.”
“My lips are sealed,” she said cheerily.
“I can’t unseat Sidmouth right away. It will
take time and maneuvering—”
“And patience and careful planning,” she said, now able to tease him. “Yes, I know, my cautious husband. But how do you mean to do it? Who do you mean to put in his place? Are you seriously considering throwing him out?”
He kissed her hard, then drew back, his eyes smoldering. “Can we discuss this tomorrow?” Pulling her close, he ground his erection against her. “Right now, politics is the last thing on my mind.”
And the dear man deserved a reward after his wonderful revelation. “Certainly, my husband.” She flashed him a coy smile. “Just give me ten minutes to prepare myself before you come to my room.” Turning, she darted up the stairs.
“I can undress you perfectly well, you know,” he said as he stalked after her.
“You’ll wreak havoc on my clothes,” she said breathlessly. “And shock my maid besides.” Thank heaven for her maid, whose presence always kept Simon at bay while she slipped in her sponge.
He grumbled something behind her, and she hastened her steps. This was clearly not the night to tax his patience. Besides, what he’d told her lent her feet wings. Simon meant to unseat Sidmouth!
After he’d admitted to supporting parliamentary reform earlier, she’d begun to think he was not quite the stodgy old Tory she’d assumed. Though he did share the Tory’s belief about radicals, she felt certain she could change his mind about that once he listened to what Godwin had to say.
Tomorrow. Because tonight, she meant to enjoy lying in her husband’s arms.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dear Charlotte,
I hope you’re right. If Foxmoor can’t influence his wife with tender glances, he will no doubt turn to more restrictive measures, like packing her off to the country. It is what I would do if my wife caused me trouble.
Your cousin,
Michael
Even without the help of his valet, whom Simon had dismissed the second he walked into his bedchamber, Simon undressed and donned his dressing gown in under two minutes. He had not lied to Louisa—rutting beast that he was, he’d been thinking of this all day. He only prayed that his craving for her lessened with time, because right now it was a damned nuisance.
Only a Duke Will Do Page 22
