Read When the Duke Returns for Free Online

She was Italian, you know, and she thought Englishmen were very foolish. Mind you, my father was Italian and she thought he was just as foolish as the worst Englishman.”
    â€œHow did she die?”
    â€œThey were sailing. A sudden squall came up and swamped their boat.” She was able to say it now, years later, without her voice breaking. Which was something of an achievement.
    â€œI’m so sorry,” Jemma said. And being Jemma, she looked genuinely sorry.
    â€œAt least I have memories of her and Papa. And the aunt who raised me afterwards was truly wonderful.”
    â€œWas she from your mother’s side?”
    â€œNo, she was my father’s sister. She accompanied me to the Cosway estate after the funeral; people thought that since I was affianced to a duke, it made sense for his mother to raise me. Since Cosway had reached his eighteenth year, we went through the proxy marriage. But I was clearly miserable living there, so my aunt snatched me away shortly thereafter.”
    â€œI can imagine that the duchess must be an appalling companion. I met her only once, but she gave me a strict set-down.”
    â€œThe duchess—or dowager duchess, rather—does not believe in grief,” Isidore said, remembering. “She told me so repeatedly. I think she was quite happy to see the back of me, although she tried to make me return once she learned more of my aunt.”
    Jemma raised an eyebrow.
    â€œMy aunt is a violinist. She told the duchess she would take me to live with my father’s relatives in Italy, but in fact we traveled around Europe as she gave concerts. We lived in Venice on and off, but we went farther afield as well, to Prussia, France, Brussels, Prague…”
    â€œHow unusual.” And, after a moment: “The Duchess of Cosway’s daughter-in-law in company with a traveling musician.” Jemma grinned. “Is your aunt still alive?”
    Isidore nodded. “She leads a rather quiet life now. A few years ago she professed herself tired of wandering about Europe. We kept expecting that Cosway would return. So we would say, one last trip to Vienna! But somehow there was always another trip, and never a message from Cosway. She moved to Wales when I turned twenty-one.”
    â€œBy herself?”
    â€œNo. She married a painter.”
    â€œReally? Anyone I might have heard of?”
    Isidore said it reluctantly. “One of the Sargents.”
    â€œNot Owen Sargent! The man who painted Lord Lucien Jourdain in the nude with just a bunch of violets?”
    â€œThe very one.”
    â€œThen you must have seen the portrait,” Jemma said, delighted. “Were the violets just where you might expect? And did he wear his wig? I heard so, but I couldn’t countenance it.”
    Isidore sighed. “I don’t know how it happened, but I’m so much more strait-laced than my family. Do you know, Jemma, I really didn’t wish to see Lord Jourdain without his clothing?”
    â€œIsidore…” Jemma said imploringly.
    â€œOf course he wore a wig. And a patch. I remember being surprised by the size of his—ahem—violets.” Isidore picked up her cold tea and drank a sip, put it down again. “Perhaps I should follow Cosway to the country and force the question, Jemma. I can strip myself naked in his bedchamber and see how he responds. If he responds.”
    â€œIt depends on how much you wish to be a duchess,”Jemma replied. “It could be embarrassing for both of you.”
    â€œI do want to be a duchess. I’ve thought of myself as a duchess for years. And all those years I told myself that I would accept whatever sort of man the duke turned out to be. I steeled myself to accept a man with one leg, or any number of vices. I just kept telling myself that I wanted to be truly married, to be able to have children, and stop living this half existence.”
    Jemma nodded. “I absolutely