School For Heiresses 2- Only a Duke Will Do (20 page)

“No!” she cried at the same time as Regina. Dragging the cover around her, Louisa leapt from her bed. “

No duels, Marcus. This is my fault, not his.”

Marcus glowered at her. “He took advantage of you while you were wounded, for God’s sake!”

She caught her breath. “How did you know about—And why aren’t you at Tattersall’s? You never return this early.”

“A footman fetched me,” Marcus retorted.

“At whose command? I did not send for—”

“I did,” Simon said tersely. “While you were unconscious.”

She was still trying to assimilate that when Marcus let out a roar.

“Unconscious!” Marcus stalked toward Simon. “Why, you wretched scoundrel, I’ll tear you limb from limb!”

“Stop it!” Louisa put herself between her brother and Simon. “He didn’t touch me then. And as soon as I awakened, he sent for a doctor.”

After he’d already sent for Marcus. The full ramifications of that hit her. Heaven help her, he’d engineered this awful—

“You knew Marcus was coming.” She could hardly breathe past the pain, and cast Simon a glance of pure betrayal. “When you agreed to my bargain, you knew he would find us together long before the doctor arrived.”

“What bargain?” Marcus snapped.

“Be quiet, Marcus!” She fixed her gaze on Simon. “You knew, didn’t you?”

He hesitated, then nodded.

“But why?” A shudder wracked her. “No, don’t answer. I know why.”

To accomplish what Sidmouth had wanted. She shifted her gaze to the women peeking into the room, then groaned. Oh, he’d done it so effectively, too. She could count on Regina and Mrs. Harris to keep quiet, but the other two…

Despair gripped her. One was a notorious gossip and the other a new member. It wouldn’t be long before the tale swept through the group and women began to leave the London Ladies.

“I suppose you knew they were coming, as well,” she choked out.

“Certainly not,” he snapped. “Regina told me she was staying at the docks to pass out packets.”

“We were going to, all of us,” Regina put in quickly, “but Mrs. Fry said the Quaker ladies could take care of it and sent me home. Mrs. Harris and the others came along out of concern for your injury.”

“Clearly that’s not what they should have been concerned about,” Marcus growled. “And I’ll have his head on a platter—”

“Hush, Marcus!” Louisa and Regina said in unison. Louisa turned to Simon. “So it was just a happy coincidence for you that they came, too.”

“If you want to look at it that way,” he said warily.

And now she was ruined. If Simon didn’t marry her, that is. And why should he? He’d achieved his goal

—to discredit her before her fellow reformers. She’d let him do it, too, walked right into the trap like a rabbit hopping into the tiger’s den.

Hurt exploded into anger. “You unconscionable devil!”

Remorse flashed over his face before it changed to sheer, unadulterated will. “I told you I meant to marry you. So I saw my chance and took it.”

Louisa blinked, momentarily taken aback. “You…you didn’t do this at Sidmouth’s request?”

“No!” Shock suffused his face. “How could you even think it? I would never do that to you.”

Simon wasn’t working for Sidmouth. He did want to marry her—so badly that he’d purposely compromised her.

Torn between relief and anger, she didn’t resist when he slid his arm about her waist and tugged her to stand beside him. “This is as good a time as any to announce that we are getting married, don’t you think, sweetheart?” His gaze locked with hers, daring her to say otherwise. Regina let out a breath, as did the other ladies, but Marcus only scowled and started toward Simon. “I would rather throttle you.”

“You are not going to throttle him.” Regina grabbed Marcus’s arm. “It would ruin Louisa. She has to marry him now, and you know it.”

Louisa glanced from Simon to Regina, her heart in her throat. Regina was right. But good heavens, what a choice. If she didn’t marry Simon, she would lose everything she’d worked for. And if she did marry him…

“Louisa?” Simon prodded. When she continued to stand there woodenly, he shot the others a black look. “I would like a few moments alone with my fiancée, so if you could give us some privacy…”

“Privacy?” Marcus bit out. “You’ve already had far too much privacy.”

“Marcus, for heaven’s sake!” Regina said sharply.

His jaw tightening, Marcus glanced at Louisa. “What about you, angel? Do you want time alone with this scoundrel?

She forced a smile. “Yes, please.” She needed privacy to wring his neck.

“Ten minutes,” Marcus snapped. “In ten minutes, if you aren’t both downstairs and dressed, I’ll come up here and tear Foxmoor’s heart out with my bare hands.” His gaze shot to Simon. “Understood?”

“Understood,” Simon murmured, though his fingers tightened on her waist. The others were halfway out the door when Marcus paused. “Are you…able to go downstairs?” he asked Louisa. “The footman didn’t say how badly you were injured or even how it happened—”

“I tripped,” she said before Simon could answer. “Getting out of the carriage at the docks. I tripped and hit my head. It temporarily knocked me out, but I feel fine now, truly.”

She glanced to Regina, whom she implored with her eyes not to belie her. Regina gave a sketchy nod. Thankfully, the other ladies were already in the hall and hadn’t heard. Louisa would have to trust Regina to make sure they kept silent, too.

Especially since Marcus looked skeptical. His gaze swung to Simon. “Is that what happened, Foxmoor? She tripped?”

Louisa held her breath. So help her, if he betrayed her now—

“Yes.” Simon’s fingers dug painfully into her waist.

Marcus hesitated. Then a faint, almost snide smile touched his lips. “I suppose it hardly matters. From now on, my sister and her activities will be your concern, not mine. And I shall vastly enjoy watching her give you hell.”

As soon as her brother left, Louisa proceeded to do just that. She rounded on Simon, her voice trembling with rage. “How dare you? You schemed to get me alone, and then—”

“You were the one who suggested the bargain. I did not scheme to get you alone, for God’s sake.”

A pox on him for being right. Seething, she dropped the bedcovers and retied her chemise, then strode to her highboy for a dressing gown. She would never succeed in donning her corset and pelisse robe during the short time her curst brother had given her.

“Very well, but you schemed to have us found together.” She jerked on her dressing gown. “You should have told me Marcus was on his way home. You shouldn’t have let me make that bargain.”

“I argued that it was unwise. You chose to ignore me.”

It was true—she’d been reckless, and he’d counted on that. Because Simon, more than anyone, knew that her impulsive nature lay just beneath the surface, waiting for something like this to emerge.

“Come now, Louisa, would marriage to me be so awful?”

The hint of wounded pride in his voice further unsettled her. “I can’t really tell, can I? I scarcely even know you.”

That was the problem. Marrying the Simon who lifted sick children into his phaeton would be far from awful.

But the Simon who’d deliberately manipulated her into compromising herself…that Simon made her wary, even though he clearly felt remorse for his scheming afterward. I am sorry, sweetheart. Forgive me. Approaching her from behind, the dratted devil slid his arm about her waist. “You knew me well enough to want to marry me before—what has changed?”

“Everything,” she whispered. “You, me, my plans.” She didn’t want Simon’s interference in her affairs. And if he’d been stubbornly overprotective before, only imagine how he’d be once they married.

“The only significant change is that we are even better suited now.” He tugged her back against his lean frame. “We belong together. You know we do.”

His achingly tender voice gave her pause. But did she dare believe it? “Do you love me, Simon?”

He stiffened, then countered with, “Do you love me?”

She winced. “Certainly not.” It was true. It had to be true. Because if she ever dared to love him, he would use that ruthlessly against her.

“Then I don’t see a problem,” he said coldly.

“So this is to be a marriage of convenience, is it?” she choked out.

“Absolutely not.” He dragged in a heavy breath. “I want a real marriage, Louisa. Surely there is enough affection between us for that. I like you. And if you could swallow your pride long enough, you would admit you like me, too.”

“I desire you,” she muttered. “That isn’t the same.”

“It’s close enough for me.” He nuzzled her cheek. “If you are not tempted by the prospect of an amiable marriage to a man who desires you and will treat you well, then consider this. Together we could do a great deal of good in the world.”

“You mean, you could do a great deal of good.” Wrenching free, she faced him. “And I could be the perfect political wife, never causing trouble, never engaging in controversial causes, so you can become prime minister.”

A scowl darkened his brow. “I have never lied to you about my ambitions. But they need not keep you from participating in various charitable organizations. When you are not taking care of our children.”

“Ch-children?” A pox on him, she’d forgotten about that. He would expect her to have children, his children. There would be blood and doctors—

“Yes, children.” He eyed her closely. “I need an heir. Surely you know that.”

Realizing how close she came to revealing her fears, she said quickly, “Of course.” Then she frowned. “

And you will expect me to put everything aside to raise them, I suppose.”

“Not everything.” He looked decidedly wary. “Regina has children and does charitable works. Indeed, a prime minister’s wife is expected to do such things.”

“As long as she chooses fashionable causes, correct? Would the London Ladies Society be one of those charitable organizations I’d be allowed to support, the way your sister does?” When he muttered a curse and glanced away, she nodded. “I thought not.”

For a second, she considered that the marriage itself might have been part of her enemies’ plan. That Simon had compromised her precisely so he could marry her and control her activities. But that made no sense; surely Sidmouth wouldn’t have asked Simon to do something so extreme. And even if he had, surely Simon wouldn’t have agreed to it. Not when he could marry a less troublesome woman more useful to his career.

Unfortunately, that didn’t make her feel any better. He still had her trapped. Or did he? She set her hands on her hips. “Well then, here are my terms for our marriage. I must be allowed to continue with the London Ladies Society and all the charitable—and political activities—that such participation entails.”

His gaze shot to her. “Damn it, you are in no position to bargain.”

“And you like me in that position, don’t you? Caught between a rock and a hard place. Only this time you have overshot the mark. For if I must give up the London Ladies either way, I’d rather take my chances with ruin than with marriage.” When his scowl darkened to a glower, she hesitated, but she saw no other way to salvage the situation. “If you don’t agree to let me continue with my group, then I thank you for your offer, but I can’t marry you.”

“The devil you can’t.” Fury carved deep lines in his brow. “If I tell Draker what happened today, he will forbid you to participate in your group anyway.”

“And I will know that you’re a liar and a cheat. Because you swore on your honor that if I let you make free with my body, you would hold your tongue.”

With a curse, he raked his fingers through his hair, and a tiny part of her exulted. She had him trapped now. Simon might be a schemer, but when he gave his word, he didn’t go back on it.

“Your brother will make you marry me. If he doesn’t, my sister will.”

“No one makes me do anything anymore. Not you nor your sister nor my brother. Surely you’ve already figured that out.”

“So I am supposed to let you do as you please, gallivant about Newgate risking your life, risking the life of any child you bear—”

“I would never do that,” she said. “We don’t allow our other members to go to the prison if they’re enceinte, and I’d certainly not ignore the rule for myself.”

That seemed to give him pause. “You would refrain from your activities if you were with child?”

“Of course.” Fortunately, she didn’t intend to have children for a very long time. Now that she knew how to prevent them, she would make sure she bore his heir on her schedule and not his. Surely after a few years of marriage—after the London Ladies had succeeded in gaining their demands for prison reform—

she would feel safe enough to have children. She had to give Simon his heir; it wouldn’t be fair to him to do otherwise.

But only after she’d accomplished everything. And conquered her fear. She glanced at the ormolu mantel clock. “Our time is almost up. What is it to be? Marriage to me on my terms? Or my ruin?”

“You know damned well I will not let you be ruined,” he bit out.

She cast him a cool smile. “Then we are agreed.”

He hesitated, but he knew when he’d been bested. Fixing her with a baleful glance, he snapped, “Yes, we are agreed.”

Knotting the tie of her wrapper, she stepped toward the door, but he caught her arm and pulled her close enough to warn, “Don’t think you will always get ’round me so easily, Joan of Arc.” He lowered his voice to a seductive murmur. “I now know exactly how to tempt you, how to make you beg. And if the only way to master you in the marriage is to master you in the bedchamber, I will happily take on that task.”

Though a thrill shot through her at the very thought of being mastered by him, she met his gaze steadily. “

You forget, sir, that I know how to make you beg, too.” She swept her hand down to his trousers, delighted when just the touch of her fingers made him harden. With a smile, she rubbed him through the rough fabric. “So we’ll see who surrenders first. I wager it won’t be me.”

Leaving him cursing and trying to gain control of his errant arousal, she swept from the room. The battle lines were drawn. And despite her fears for the future and her uneasiness about how the marriage would play out, she looked forward to the fight.