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“There’s little honor in not paying tradesmen for their honest work,” Simeon said.

Godfrey looked stricken again. Isidore took another try. “When I visited this house many years ago, I remember being rather surprised by your father’s frugal attitude. But in a frank discussion with your mother, she informed me that he considered himself merely the guardian of the duchy and hoped to pass on his estates intact, without wasting his substance as so many noblemen do.”

Godfrey reached for the sideboard and the bottle of wine, but Isidore gave him a minatory look and his arm dropped. He picked up his fork, but a moment later Simeon poured wine into all three of their glasses.

“I would greatly appreciate it if you could tell me how you and your aunt were reduced to busking at fairs, given your birth, not to mention our marriage,” Simeon said, his voice rather chilly. Apparently, it was her fault that at twelve years old she had failed to voluntarily enter a nunnery while waiting for his return.

“Some say my aunt is one of the greatest violinists ever born,” Isidore said. Godfrey had finished his chicken and looked a little dazed.

“She must have been better than Mr. McGurdy, then,” Godfrey mumbled. “Though he played a tambourine with his right foot at the same time.”

“My aunt played only the violin.”

Simeon put down his fork again. “I have felt as if I were living in two worlds for the past week or so, and this only confirms it. Are you saying that your aunt was in great demand, and you did not travel fairs?”

“No, we did not,” Isidore said. “She had a long-standing arrangement to join the French court for the Easter season; Queen Marie Antoinette is quite fond of music, you know. My aunt would play solos for her in gardens of Versailles. Sometimes my aunt would steal into the great maze, and then begin to play. The ladies would wander into the labyrinth until they were able to find her by following the sound of her music.”

“I’d love to see that,” Godfrey said.

“I should like to play a musical instrument,” Simeon said. “Once I was in an Indian bazaar and heard an old gentleman play a sort of violin-like instrument so beautifully that I began to weep.”

“To weep?” Godfrey said, his voice breaking in a high little squeal. “You cried, where anyone could see you?”

Simeon smiled at him. “There’s no shame in a man crying.”

Nor in being a virgin either, Isidore thought sourly.

“I think it’s shameful,” Godfrey said. “And do you know, Brother, I think it’s a bit shameful that you’re sitting down to supper without a cravat. Or a waistcoat. Her Grace—” he stumbled a little and slurred it together—“Her Grace is a duchess, you know. You’re not paying respect to her. Or you’re not respectful of her.” He looked a little confused, but stubborn.

Simeon looked over at Isidore in an inquiring kind of way. “Do you agree with my brother that the size or existence of a cravat determines the respect due a woman?”

“It would be a start,” she said sweetly. “After that would have to come respect for a woman’s opinions, of course.”

She had to admit: he was intelligent. He knew instantly what she was talking about. “It’s not that I won’t respect my wife’s opinions—”

“She is your wife,” Godfrey intervened.

“But that when it comes to an emergency, one person has to assume responsibility.”

“An emergency,” Isidore said, ladling a generous dollop of scorn into her voice. “What sort of emergency are you thinking of?”

“All sorts.” He raised his glass, his eyes dark and somber over the rim. “I have been in enough difficult spots, Isidore, to know that dangers flock from every direction.”

“For example?”

“Were you ever attacked by a lion?” Godfrey asked. He was definitely slurring his words. He looked terribly sleepy and slightly nauseated.

“Not lately,” Simeon said.

“Godfrey, would you like to retire to my armchair for a moment?” Isidore asked.

He just stared at her, until Simeon said, “Godfrey.” His voice was quiet, but the authority inherent there was absolute.

Godfrey stumbled to the chair and sat down, his eyes closing immediately.

“Is that your example?” Isidore asked.

“I suppose it could be.”