When the Duke Returns
The Duchess of Cosway yearns for a man she has never met . . . her husband.
Married by proxy as a child, Lady Isidore has spent years fending off lecherous suitors while longing for her husband, Simeon Jermyn, the Duke of Cosway, to return.
But when the prodigal duke finally returns, ready to take on his obligations, he finds the woman they call his wife too ravishing, too headstrong, too sensual to be a proper duchess. But Isidore will not give up her claim to the handsome duke without a fight.
“When the Duke Returns is full of fun, romance, passion, and the unique.”
~ Romance Reviews Today
The Post and Courier (Charleston, SC), included When the Duke Returns on a list of the year’s 10 Best:
“Her books just sparkle. There’s such wit and intelligence in her writing, making anything by her a pleasure to read.”
Named to Booklist‘s Top Ten Romances of 2009!
#10 on the New York Times bestseller list.
Eloisa made up these gorgeous collectible cards for readers to celebrate the Desperate Duchesses, Original Six series. With Roberta and Poppy on one side and Harriet, Isidore, Jemma, and Eleanor on the other, this 5x7 can be yours. And this isn't the only gorgeous card to be had!
Warning! In describing relations between characters, I may wreck a book for you by making it clear who someone marries, or the outcome of a book. Please do not read about The Inside Take if you're wary of knowing who is paired with whom!
Signora Angelico, Isidore’s Italian lingerie maker, is based on my husband’s delightful aunt, who has built a stellar career creating hand-made nightgowns for (literally) royalty all over the world, especially the Arab countries. Her studio, like that of Signora Angelico, is a treasure box of ribbons and lace.
In collaboration with a very talented illustrator, Eloisa created paper dolls complete with extravagant hairpieces and two Georgian fashion dresses to go along with her Desperate Duchesses, the Original Six heroines. With the template drawn only in outline so readers could DIY, Eloisa then issued a challenge: make one and send it in, and she'd have a drawing to pick the ones that fit the heroines the best.
To see all the winning dolls and more, as well as to download the template, click over to Eloisa's Design-A-Duchess Paper Doll feature.
This is the dress Eloisa selected for Isidore. Click through to see it bigger in all its wonderful detail.
For the release of When the Duke Returns, Eloisa asked her readers "What's the Worst Job Imaginable in Georgian England?" Click through to see her favorite responses.
Isidore wanders into the garden, where a blackthorn tree “was scattering seeds everywhere, like a child feeding birds in a dizzying circle.” Philip wrote me from England with the following observation: “Blackthorn may be a tree with seeds in North America, but in the U.K. it is a bush, commonly found in hedgerows. It does have seeds, but they are in the centre of small blue/purple plum-like fruit that tend to stay on the bush into winter. The fruit are bitter and known as Sloes.” Ouch! I still like my metaphor, though.
“James is brilliant!”
~ Romantic Times BOOKClub (4 1/2 Stars)
“James puts a clever spin on a classic romantic plot…”
Enjoy an Excerpt
But all the diamonds in the world couldn’t stop the cold fear that gripped Isidore’s heart when she descended the stairs some time later. She was going to meet her husband. For the first time.
What if he were ugly? Well, he was certain to be weather-beaten, at the very least. Likely there wasn’t good hygiene in Africa, Isidore told herself. Cosway might be missing some teeth. He might be missing an eye! He might be—
But she stopped herself before she began lopping off his limbs. Whatever he was and however he looked, she would finally have a real husband. She could have children. She could be a real duchess, rather than a woman known to some as the Duchess of Cosway, and others as Lady Del’Fino. She’d longed for this event for years.
The thought sustained her as she strolled into Lord Strange’s sitting room. There was an vivid moment of silence, as the gentlemen in the room took stock of Isidore – or perhaps more precisely, Isidore’s tiny bodice -- followed by such a concerted rush in her direction that she actually flinched. No duke was among them. Cosway had yet to arrive.
Men were men, she kept telling herself whenever she felt a pulse of nervousness about her husband. French or English, explorer or juggler, the silver gown brought them all to their knees.
But the sensuality of the gown felt different this time. In the past, she’d ignored men who gaped at her bosom. Now she suddenly realized that a husband’s response involved more than just a lustful gaze. To put it bluntly, Cosway had every right to drag her straight up the stairs.
Of course she wanted to sleep with her husband. She was curious, she wanted children, she wanted…she wanted to throw up.
Her friend Harriet took one look at her and pulled her out into of the sitting room – when it happened.
The front door was open and snow was blowing in. The butler was saying something about unseasonably cold weather, and then…
A man laughed, and in that instant, Isidore knew. It was Cosway. She could only see his back: he was enormous, wrapped in a greatcoat with a fur hat. She panicked. “I have to go upstairs!” she whispered, stepping backwards, nearly tripping in her eagerness to flee.
“Too late,” Harriet said, holding her arm.
And it was. The great mountain of a man turned and then, as if there were no one else in the entry, his eyes met hers and he recognized her. He didn’t even glance at her dress, just met her eyes. Isidore gulped.
Black hair tumbled over his collar as he pulled off his hat and handed it to a butler. But he didn’t take his eyes from hers. His skin looked warm, a honey-dark color that no one could call weather-beaten.
Without saying a word he swept into a deep bow. Isidore’s lips parted to say – what? – as she watched him bow and then curtsied, a moment too late. She felt as if she were caught in the acts of the play. He was –
If Cosway was Mark Anthony, Cleopatra would have fallen at his feet, rather than the other way around. He didn’t look like an English duke. He didn’t have powdered hair, or a cravat, or even a waistcoat. He looked untamed.
“My duchess, I presume,” he said, catching her hand and kissing it.
Isidore managed to pull herself together enough to introduce him to Harriet, but her mind was reeling. Somehow in all her imaginings, she’d forgotten to imagine – a man.
Not a nobleman, with delicate fingernails, and powered hair. Not a ruffian, like many of the men attending Lord Strange’s houseparty. But a man who moved easily, like a lion, who seems to swallow all the air in the entry, whose eyes ranged over her face with a sense of ownership… Her heart was beating so quickly that she’d couldn’t hear anything.
He wasn’t one-legged, or toothless. He was probably one of the most beautiful men she’d ever met. She had lost track of the conversation.
“The duchess and I leave in the morning,” he was telling the butler.
In the morning? Isidore was gripped by a sense of fear so great that she couldn’t imagine even walking to the carriage. If she were utterly honest, she had imagined a man who would be slavishly grateful to discover that his wife was so beautiful. But now…
She thought she had all the power. She didn’t.
She had to take command. Cleopatra, she thought desperately. Cleopatra would not allow herself to be transported like a piece of luggage.
“I myself do not plan to leave for several days,” she said, smiling at him even though her heart was thundering in her chest.
It wasn’t just that Cosway wore no cravat. He wore a gorgeous jacket of pale blue, but it was open straight down the front. Long cuffs fell over his hands, the wrist button undone. He looked as if he were ready for bed. The very thought stoked her nerves.
He took her hand in his, and raised it to his lips again. Isidore watched his lips touch her gloves and felt herself shiver.
“Ah, but sweetheart,” he said, “I am all eagerness for our wedding.”
For a moment, Isidore just thrilled to the sound of that sweetheart, to the way his eyes warmed her, to the secret shiver she felt in her legs.
But then she realized what he had said. “We are wed,” she pointed out, withdrawing her hand from his. He looked amused, so she added: “You may have ignored the fact for years, but I assure you that it is true.”
That’s where it all went wrong.
It started there…and it ended with Isidore alone in a bedchamber that night.
Not to mention, Isidore, still a virgin, on her way to London the next day.
He might as well have labeled her, the way they did trunks.
Isidore, property of the duke.
End of Excerpt
When the Duke Returns is Book 4 in the Desperate Duchesses, the Original Six series.
The full series reading order is as follows: