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myself wholly to my cause makes it hard for them to criticize. Especially since they know in their hearts that my cause is just.”
    “I see.” So the king wanted her married off to destroy her Joan of Arc appeal. Which meant that any man who agreed to His Majesty’s bargain would probably gain a significant political advantage. Good God, what was he thinking? He would be mad to consider marrying Louisa. Let her activities make things sticky for the king with Parliament. George deserved it for the havoc he routinely wrought with his private peccadilloes and personal vendettas. As long as the king didn’t actively oppose his return to politics, Simon could still achieve his aims. It might take longer, but—
    Right. Probably much longer. After seven years, half the House of Commons was new, and the other half remembered Simon only as the man who’d taken a lengthy jaunt to India on his way to the top. Without the king’s support, he would have an uphill battle to become prime minister, much less institute any changes in policy. So he had to give the king’s bargain serious consideration. He needed a wife anyway, didn’t he? He glanced over to where Louisa walked beside him with uncommon poise. Being a lady-in-waiting to the late Princess Charlotte had given her polish, taught her to be less impulsive. She had handled the situation with Raji masterfully. And her interest in reform was admirable, as long she stayed out of politics.
    Or allowed her husband to govern her activities. Yes, if Simon married her, he could steer her toward pursuits better suited to a prime minister’s wife. He might even tap her unbounded enthusiasm for his own aims.
    You just want her in your bed. It was his grandfather’s insidious voice, snide with contempt. He stiffened. All right, so perhaps he did want Louisa in his bed. The hunger to possess her gnawed at his groin and surged through his veins. Who in his right mind would not want to possess the sloe-eyed beauty, to kiss that pale, lilac-scented throat and feel the pulse quicken beneath his tongue? That need not change anything. If they were married, he could better control his desires. Keep them from spilling over into his politics as they had last time.
    You are too much a slave to your passions. He stifled a curse. Grandfather was wrong; he would prove that.
    But before he considered taking up with Louisa again, he had to determine how serious she was about never wanting to marry.
    He steered her toward a deserted path while broaching a subject to distract her. “I gather that Lord Trusbut is one of the gentlemen making protests.”
    “Actually, no. We think he might support our aims. If we could make him see that we’re not trying to ‘
    overthrow’ the government or any such nonsense—”
    ”—then he might let his wife join you. And use his influence for your cause.”
    “That’s our hope, yes.”
    “Understandable,” Simon said as he led her farther from the main crowd, praying that she didn’t notice. But Louisa was too busy wondering about the duke’s astonishing interest in her group to notice where they wandered. Perhaps people did change.
    And perhaps she was a fool even to think it. Simon never did anything without a purpose; she just hadn’t figured out what it was yet. “Did you mean what you said about taking me to call on her?”
    “Of course.”
    She eyed him closely. “But why? And don’t give me that poppycock about repaying me for helping you with Raji.”
    He shrugged. “Lord Trusbut’s support is as important to my aims as it is to yours. I see no reason why we cannot combine forces.”
    “Except that I don’t trust you.” The minute the words left her mouth, she cursed her quick tongue. It wasn’t a nonchalant, devil-may-care thing to say.
    He must have realized it, too, for he halted beneath a wide-stretching oak to search her face. “I thought you said you had put the past behind you.”
    She fought for calm. “That doesn’t mean I