When the Duke Returns(64)

“My mother?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Grief,” Isidore said. “Grief. She’s not cracked, but she honored his memory as best she could.”

“Ah.” There was something important there, but he couldn’t think about it now, so he took her arm and turned back to the house. Raindrops were caught on her long eyelashes. He could see them shining like shattered diamonds. “What did you sing?” he asked, rather desperately. Of course he couldn’t stop here in the path and lick her eyelashes. He was losing his mind.

“Whatever came to me,” Isidore said cheerfully. “I wasn’t very musical, you understand. I wouldn’t want you to think that I added to the general charm of the house.”

“Did it already smell?” he asked, aghast.

“Oh, no!” Isidore said. “Not at all. Didn’t Honeydew say that the water closets were put in five years ago? This was eleven years ago. I remember that your mother was particularly vexed when I would sing a ballad about a forlorn lady who jumped from a cliff because she found herself with child. I learned it from my nanny at some point, but your mother considered it quite indelicate.”

“I can imagine,” Simeon said, feeling slightly cheered.

“Your mother did not feel that I was very ladylike. And I’m not, Simeon. I still sing in the wrong places and at the wrong times. Even if you don’t swear, I do. I take after my mother, and she was a passionate Italian woman.”

“I know.” Simeon knew he should probably take this moment to point out that she wouldn’t want to be with a dried-up old stick like himself, that she would be happier with someone more passionate. But instead he said, “I’m so sorry about your parents, Isidore.” And he put his arm around her again.

She didn’t say anything, and they walked home through the rain. By the time they arrived at the cottage it had turned into a proper English downpour, the kind that slants sideways.

Honeydew met them at the door to the Dower House and said, “The silver has been removed, as have all small movables, the smaller pictures in the West Gallery, and the Sèvres china.”

“Where have you put them?” Simeon asked, watching Isidore walk away from him. Her skirts were wet and clung to her legs in the back. Now that he knew what she felt like under his hands he would never be the same again.

“The west barn,” Honeydew was saying. “The footmen will sleep there, of course. The maids have all been sent home for a few days. The cook will be in the village, as the bakery kitchen has been kindly opened for our use.”

Simeon dragged his eyes away as Isidore closed the bedchamber door. “My mother?”

“The dowager duchess refuses to leave Revels House. She also refuses to allow her jewelry to be removed; nothing in her room has been touched.”

“I’ll stay with her, of course,” Simeon said with a sigh.

“I took the opportunity of sending all the furniture in the master bedchamber to London for refurbishing,” Honeydew said smoothly. “You and the duchess must stop here in the Dower House. It will be rather intimate quarters, I’m afraid.”

Simeon looked sharply at Honeydew, but his face was impervious.

“Set up a bed in the sitting room,” he said. “I trust you can find me something of that nature, Honeydew?”

He could tell the butler didn’t like it, but Simeon merely left. It would be a sad day when he cowered before his own butler.





Chapter Twenty-four




Gore House, Kensington

London Seat of the Duke of Beaumont

March 3, 1784

Jemma stared sightlessly into the glass above her dressing table. Then she pulled open the crumpled piece of foolscap and read it again.

It read precisely as it had a moment ago.

His Grace the Duke of Beaumont asked to be remembered to the duchess, and apologized for the fact that the note was written by his secretary, but he was unavailable today. And unfortunately tomorrow looked just as busy. With regrets, etc. Signed Mr. Cunningham, Elijah’s secretary.

Elijah had never done that before, never actually written her through his secretary, when they were living in the same house. The note had been delivered, along with a letter from her sister-in-law and an invitation to dine from Lady Castlemaine, as if her husband were no more than another acquaintance.

He had withdrawn. Elijah had retreated back to his chambers in the Inns of Court.

Obviously he had misunderstood her.

Not seeing him was a torment. She’d just come from breakfast, and Elijah wasn’t there. And she had driven her maid to distraction, trying on two breakfast gowns before she chose just the right one, before she tripped into the room looking as fresh and elegant as she possibly could.