When the Duke Returns(68)

“I begin to question my concept of marriage,” he said, but his voice was wooden.

“I know I would,” Isidore said, pushing away her plate. “We’ve turned into friends, don’t you think? Perhaps because we are both people without experience. But you called lust a transitory emotion, and I’m certain that you’re right. Previously, I never allowed myself to feel anything of that nature.”

“I should hope not.”

“Why not?” she asked. “Wouldn’t you rather that I had felt lust and had restrained myself? Not that it matters,” she answered herself. “I think you will be much more comfortable with someone as composed as yourself.”

“She sounds like a personal secretary,” Simeon observed.

“No, not at all,” Isidore said, warming to the task. “We’ll find you someone sweet.”

“Docile?”

“Well, that’s such an unattractive word. Perhaps not docile, but you would be more comfortable perhaps with someone more biddable. I am not biddable, Simeon. Not in the least. I have made my own way for too many years. I never really realized it before, but I fear I have become a virago.”

He gasped, but she saw the amusement in his eyes. “No!”

“Laugh as you like,” she told him. “You’re grateful I’m saying this, and don’t pretend that you’re not. As I said, we’ll find you a charming English girl to whom restraint and prudence are second nature.”

“Like my mother?”

“Your mother?” she repeated, losing track of the conversation.

He looked at her thoughtfully. “My mother learned my father’s lessons so well that she maintained his deranged method of paying bills for years after his death. The only hint of rebellion I can find is that she paid his mistress so generously. He would have hated that. But that in itself indicates a certain lack of passion, don’t you think? I find it hard to believe that she was not aware of the existence of all these women.”

Isidore really didn’t know what to think of Simeon’s mother. “You don’t like passion,” she pointed out. “It is uncomfortable. Your mother likely feels the same way. After all, if one’s husband is determined to stray, what can one do?”

“What would you do? If I took a mistress?”

Isidore didn’t even need to think about that. “I’d kill you,” she told him, smiling to soften it a little. “So you see, Simeon, I would be a very uncomfortable wife.”

“I don’t intend to have a mistress, or mistresses,” Simeon said.

“That’s very admirable of you. I’m sure your wife will be much happier.”

“I feel queasy at the idea of you choosing my bride.”

“Of course,” Isidore said brightly. “I didn’t mean to intrude in any fashion.”

There was a beat of silence, so she added, “I shall naturally be looking for my own spouse so I wouldn’t have to time to search out the proper damsel for you. We both must manage the task on our own.”

“Won’t you mind not being a duchess?”

“Oh, no,” she said airily. “Titles are not very important to me.”

“You might not feel that way after more reflection.”

“If that proves to be the case, I shall simply set my cap at a duke,” Isidore pointed out. “The Duke of Villiers is surprisingly attractive. He and I accompanied my friend Harriet to Lord Strange’s house party. I had no idea that Villiers was so witty.”

“The problem is not you, Isidore, but myself.”

“You said that before,” Isidore pointed out, feeling irritated. “I entirely understand that you find me unrestful. I accept it; in fact, as I’ve just said, I’ve come to agree with you. After all, what if I wanted a husband who would show passionate interest in me?”

His eyes were impenetrable. “Yes, what then?”

“I do not want a spouse who will be always calm and ordered,” she told him. “My father cared deeply about my mother.”

“I’m sure he did.”

“He never would have taken a mistress, not because he was afraid that she would scream at him, but because they were a pair. They faced the world together. Even—” her throat was tight a moment, but she said it anyway—“even though I couldn’t bear it, I was glad they died together. I simply couldn’t imagine one without the other.”

“They were fortunate.”

“You wouldn’t have thought so,” she said. “They did fight. Sometimes my mother won, and sometimes my father won. On balance, I think my mother won more often. I remember finding them kissing. And I remember my mother sending me to the nursery, and pulling father off for a nap as well.”