He said, “So, you’ve spent time in Iceland.”
“Yes.” Denying this was obviously not an option.
“Do you speak Icelandic?”
Isobel weighed her answer. She’d decided in advance not to lie. Withhold, if necessary, but not lie.
“Some,” she said. “Before I left the country, I could get by. Now, of course, it will be rusty.”
“And when was that exactly? Your years there?”
“When I was younger.”
“A child? You are hardly old now.”
“I am twenty-seven,” she said, giving him something he already knew. “My time in Iceland was... years ago. I was younger than I am now, obviously, but not a child.”
“But were you in the company of your parents? The file, which I admit is very thin, suggested that an uncle made arrangements to bring you back to England—alone, was it?”
“I would rather not discuss my specific, personal experience in Iceland, if you please. It was some time ago, and the memories are part of a difficult history that Ihave worked very hard to overcome. My business in Iceland has no bearing on your work, I feel sure.”
There, she thought,I’ve said it. She’d alluded to pain and overcoming it. Any gentleman would abandon the topic.
“Was it ’08?” he asked gently, abandoning nothing.
She narrowed her eyes. How beguiling he’d endeavored to be. His relaxed sort ofleanon the bench and his reasonable tone, light and curious. But Isobel was not born yesterday. She’d been born seven and twenty hard-fought years ago, as they’d already established. And on the topic ofwhenshe was in Iceland, “several years ago” would be all she’d say.
The duke went on. “My notes say that your uncle arranged to have you returned to England in October 1808. That would have made you twenty at the time. Can I assume that voyage, which involved prodigious pulled strings in government—enough to warrant a file in my office—means you werenotin Iceland in the company of your parents?”
“Ask repeatedly if you must, Your Grace, but my answers to personal questions will remain brief and vague. My time in Iceland is entirely irrelevant to these Englishmen who are currently stranded.”
“Held captive,” he corrected. “The Englishmen are being held captive. But forgive me, I was hoping for some frame of reference. Authentication is a large part of working with informants. Your personal experiences will inform how current and reliable your information may be.”
“And what if I say my information is whollyunreliable andinauthentic? What if I say that I remember virtually nothing about Iceland except how wretched it is? Would we be finished here?”
The duke sighed. “You’re aware, I hope, that your denials only make me want to know more, Miss Tinker? Evasive, elusive informants are far more intriguing than people who gush.”
“I am not evasive or elusive,” she said. “I am private and discreet. I haven’t anything to hide; I simply do not relish talking about...” here she faltered, as there was so much she had no wish to discuss, “...my youth. In any country.”
He took a deep breath and nodded. He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a coin; he examined it in his hand and then flicked it into the air and caught it. Isobel had a moment of anxiety, certain his easy manner would now turn nasty and demanding. She’d seen this before—men who reversed their charm into cruelty like the flip of a coin.
But Northumberland did not reverse. He launched the coin again and said, “Would you consider this? You tell me five things you may know about Iceland—notincluding your personal experience there. Just five things that you believe that I might find useful. I will not interrupt, I will not pursue any given point; I will simply listen. After you finish, I will ask youthreefollowing questions. These will be questions that you may answer ornotanswer as you see fit. Could you abide this exchange?”
No, Isobel said in her head, but that wasn’t true, not really. It was a perfectly reasonable proposal. She hesitated. She was unprepared for reasonability from a man as attractive as the duke. Attractive men didn’t have to be reasonable. The world allowed them to behave in whatever selfish, petulant way they wished simply because they looked as if they were in charge.
Isobel chewed on her bottom lip. Eventually, he would become this man, selfish or petulant or worse.
Carefully, she said, “What if I don’t have five useful things to reveal?”
“I believe,” he said, flipping the coin again, “youdohave five useful things. You wouldn’t have agreed to this meeting if you didn’t have anything useful to say.”
Again, Isobel hesitated. Was that why she’d agreed? So far, she’d not identified a reason, save madness.
He was correct, of course; she had plenty to say. She’d made a list of what she would tell him and what she would not. She’d scrawled it out during the anxiety-ridden hour between Hooke’s departure and the duke’s arrival. Five things would be no effort.
Isobel took a deep breath and settled on the adjacent bench. She folded her hands in her lap. Speaking to the toes of her boots, she said, “Fine. Here are five things.
“If you intend to travel to Iceland, you must embark very soon. It is exceedingly dangerous in winter. Even the Danes do not sail the North Sea between October and April.”
