Isobel ignored it and concentrated on climbing steadily from the hatch, finding her balance, and putting her face to the wind. The great, roaring whoosh, even before she felt the gust, was a relief. When the cold slap hit her with salt and sea spray, she sucked in her first restorative breath.
“I tried several times to look in on you,” Northumberland called behind her. “I listened outside your door. All I heard were a few muffled thumps. The steward assured me that he’d seen signs of life, so I left you to it. You’re... better, I hope?”
“I am the same,” she said, squinting to adjust her eyes to the light. The sun was setting, but the sky at dusk was brighter than her candlelit cabin. It was a balm to see natural light and breathe fresh air.
The railing at the stern was yards from the hatch, but she reached it without assistance. The smooth wood was cool and solid. She clasped it with both hands, breathing hard from exertion.
“If you’re trying to make me feel guilty,” he said, coming up beside her, “it’s working.”
“No effort is required to make you feel guilty,” she said. “Youareguilty.”
“Ah yes, that’s right. Guilty of—?”
“Dragging an afflicted woman across a roiling ocean to... entertain your itch for adventure.”
The duke thought about this and nodded slightly to the open sea. “Another reference to this mission asless than essential? Come now, Miss Tinker, be honest, what do you really think?”
“I think I’ve fallen into ownership of a beautiful brick building, all my own, with an adorable flat above it and an opportunity to exponentially improve my life. Beyond that, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“What of my cousin and the other men from Lincolnshire? You care so little about them?”
“I’ve no doubt that your cousin and his friends are rather uncomfortable at the moment. How lucky for the both of you that this rescue delivers themandpostpones your ascension to duke.”
“You think this mission is a diversion for me,” he accused.
“I think perhaps becoming a duke will be no diversion at all—for you.”
Northumberland chuckled and shook his head, but he did not argue. They turned their faces to the wind, watching the sky turn from pale blue to indigo, with streaks of apricot and cream. It was a breathtaking canvas.
“Good God, what a view,” he said, exhaling.
Isobel squinted into the mist. It was undeniably beautiful, and the heavens would only become more vivid and otherworldly the farther north they sailed. The strange colors and mystic light would take his breath away.
Isobel could acknowledge the beauty but it flooded her with painful memories instead of awe. Seven yearsago, the strange, spectral sky had made her homesick and she hadn’t even had a home to pine for—not really.
Suddenly, her eyes were wet with tears. Isobel sniffed, blinking them away, praying the duke would not see. She fidgeted, fingering the braids in her hair. She’d endeavored to wash and braid it before it was fully dry, and now the plaits stuck to her head like a cap. When she’d caught her reflection in the small mirror in her cabin, she’d barely recognized herself. Gaunt face, dull hair, grayish pallor. Had she really presumed the duke would... would... desire her? First seasickness and now crying?
“Is the air not... helping tonight, Miss Tinker?” he asked gently.
“I’m alright,” she said, clearing her throat, swiping a hand beneath her eyes.
“I’m so very sorry that you’re ill. I wish I’d comprehended how uncomfortable you would be. No matter what you say, I could have made some precautions.”
“There is no precaution,” she said, “save dry land. There’s never been anything for it. Have you never suffered from seasickness?”
He shook his head. “I cannot say that I have.”
“Oh, well, you wouldn’t understand. But what about panic from a confined, airless place?”
“No. Not that I recall.”
“Are you bothered by the cold?”
“No.”
“What about heat?”
“No.”
