“Right,” he said on a sad exhale. “I’m sorry. It’s not a joke, I know. None of this resembles a joke.”
“Well, don’t look to me to trivialize your struggle. In my experience, we are all too quick to dismiss or diminish the pain of others. Whether you are ‘trading on my desperation’ or simply being sympathetic, Idobelieve that you understand my plight. Life can be rather pleasant. Also, it can be... less so. Significantly. For all of us.
“Given the choice,” she continued, “I’d rather not have my unpleasantness used as leverage against me, but perhaps that is not a choice.”
“That remains to be seen,” the duke said speculatively. He gave the pouch of coins in his hand a little toss, rattling the money inside. “Will you take the fifty pounds?”
Chapter Five
In hindsight, Jason could not say why he’d revealed the details of his grief and his work and his... sheep.
Informants were often more forthcoming if he gave a little of his own self to the proceedings, but that wasn’t what had happened.
He wasn’t manipulating her; he was talking to her. He’dwantedto tell her. She would not contradict him or smother him. He’d guessed this, and it had been true.
He was intuitive—it was what made him an excellent spy—but what was the value of intuition if he’d rambled on about himself and learned nothing about Iceland?
Who was the excellent spy now? Isobel Tinker knew far more about him than he knew about her.
And she hadn’t even agreed to the bribe.
He cleared his throat and gave the pouch of money another rattle. “Your clerk told me you mean tobuythe travel shop from Hooke. Is this true?”
“Ha.” She let out a humorless laugh. “That’s unlikely now that I’m meant tomarry himor get out. Anyway, fifty pounds would not be enough. But it will allow me the freedom to take some time exploring what I will do next.”
Jason nodded, watching her.Who are you?he wondered.What of your pain has been dismissed or diminished?
She caught him staring and said lightly, “Stay away from me, Your Grace.”
“I’m standing ten feet from you,” he said. “I’m looking at the birdbath.”
She’d said it like she was warding off a piece of rich chocolate cake. Or a third glass of wine. A warning to herself.
“No. You’re telling me your life. You’re...lookingat me.”
“Have you noticed that you reply ‘no’ to everything I ask, whether you mean it or not?”
“If you knew my history with men like yourself, you would understand that ‘no’isalways the correct answer.”
“ ‘Men like myself’?” he asked.
“Never you mind,” she said. “Let us talk about pirates. A safer topic.”
She leaned back on her hands and looked up. She studied the night sky as if it might help form the words.
She was so very pretty, he thought—small and purposeful and luminous.
Let’s not, he wanted to say.Let us return to the topic of “men like you...”
But of course he mustn’t. He’d come for the pirates. Which was fine.
He would be keenly interested in anything she had to say, so long as she was talking to him, and looking the way she looked.
“Right, so the pirates in Iceland...” she began.
The litany of details that followed—names of specific pirates and their ships, the location of glacial ice caves, Icelandic allies—came out in a long, steady stream.
Jason had thought he would listen, soak it all in, understand her atmospheric, cultural insights—but no. It was too much to soak. She spouted detailed facts and directions, so he scrambled for his notebook.
