School For Heiresses 2- Only a Duke Will Do by Sabrina Jeffries Page A

learned only too well from the tragedies at Poona. If he had only been able to listen to the gossip in the markets then, as he had learned to do later, perhaps—
    No, thoughts like that led to madness. He was trying to make amends for that mistake. This endless reassessing of where he had gone wrong only kept him from focusing his energies on setting things right. Louisa gasped, jerking his attention to where Raji now reached for the canary.
    “Pet lightly, lad,” Simon warned, then repeated the command in Hindi. But Raji was careful as usual, stroking the bird with awe.
    “I don’t believe it,” Louisa breathed. “Look at the little devil. He’s in raptures. And so gentle, too.” She slanted a glance at Simon. “Not to mention well-trained. Did you train him?”
    “No, he belonged to a traveling performer before Colin’s wife acquired him. Apparently he used to wear a silly vest and red hat.” He smiled over at Raji. “But we don’t go for such humiliating rot now, do we, chap?”
    Raji chattered in answer.
    “What did he say?” Lady Trusbut asked in perfect seriousness.
    Simon blinked. “Devil if I know. Probably something like, ‘When are you going to feed me again, you big sorry lout?’”
    “Oh no, surely nothing so impudent as that.” Lady Trusbut turned her head to the three birds jockeying for purchase on her shoulder. “What’s that, ladies? Yes, I know. The duke is joking. He would never starve his pet, I’m sure.”
    “Apparently Lady Trusbut’s birds talk to her,” Louisa murmured.
    “Ah,” Simon said. “Don’t tell Raji, or he’ll expect me to interpret.”
    Lady Trusbut straightened in her chair. “My canaries are very intelligent, sir. They’re the jewels in my crown.” She flashed her husband a coy glance. “Edward buys me another every Christmas, don’t you, dear?”
    The old gent’s ears reddened. “Cheaper than real jewels, eh, Foxmoor?”
    “I imagine so.” Noting the indulgent look the baron shot his wife, Simon added, “Though I hear that any expense is worth it to keep one’s spouse content.”
    Lord Trusbut took his meaning readily, for he reached inside his coat pocket. “My wife seems to think Miss North’s cause is a good one.” With a frown, he removed a slip of paper. “I told her I’d be willing to offer a small donation.”
    The baron pointedly offered the bank draft to Simon. Ignoring how Louisa bristled, Simon reached for it, but Lord Trusbut did not let go.
    “I assume, Foxmoor, that this amount will suffice to put an end to Miss North’s attempts to involve my wife with her Ladies Society.”
    “Edward, please!” Lady Trusbut exclaimed.
    “I mean it.” The crusty old baron met Simon’s gaze dolefully. “I won’t have my wife trotting about a prison. And if you care for Miss North, you’ll keep her away from prisons, as well. I’m sure you agree, sir, that ladies don’t belong at Newgate.”
    The conversation had just turned tricky, but fortunately not impossible. Simon flashed Lord Trusbut a broad smile. “I do agree with you, sir. Newgate is no place for ladies.”
    Chapter Eight
    Dear Charlotte,
    You have good reason to be wary. By all accounts, Foxmoor’s ambition to become prime minister has not changed, so if Miss North does catch him for a husband, she will take second place to his ambition. Yours fondly,
    Michael
    L ouisa 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.