She stared at him warily and then continued, dropping one hand and walking on.
“The next terrible bit is that we couldn’t leave the café. The arrangement of our table, the door, the smallness of the dining room, prevented it. Georgiana could not rely on me to cooperate; I was in the throes of a temper fit, and the sheer commotion andpardon-me’s of maneuvering to the door in the cramped space would have caused a scene.
“In hindsight, I’m certain the countess was suspiciousof the earl’s proximity to us. My mother is remarkably beautiful, as you may remember. She causes a scene wherever she goes. We were both lavishly dressed. Georgiana Tinker loves a costume.
“Considering this,” she sighed, “we were forced to sit, as heaps of uneaten delights congealed on the table before us, and watch as the earl welcomed his family in the same booming voice with which he always greeted us. We watched him indulge them with treats, and then we watched himdine with themjust steps from us. He regaled them with clever stories and made spirited inquiries about their days since he’d been away.
“His family believed him to be in London, I think. Meanwhile, he’d not known they would sojourn to their seaside home. It was a chance meeting. And it destroyed me for a very long time.”
“Of course it did,” said Jason. He tipped his head to the sky and closed his eyes.
“Most people,” she said, “would think me and my mother should expect nothing more than what happened that day.”
“I am not one of those people.”
“I know you are not,” she said. “I would not have revealed it if I did not think you would somehow... understand.”
“What is there to understand? Your father abandoned you to maintain harmony with people he prioritized over you. It was a selfish cruelty that neither you nor your mother deserved. Even his ‘other family’ did not deserve the duplicity. You’ve been remarkably resilient, Isobel. There are many girls who would not recover from this sort of betrayal.”
Isobel nodded, and he was glad he’d said the correct thing. He’d meant it, every word, but bald honestycould cause fresh hurt. He did not want to add to her pain.
“Do you believeyourfather had no by-blows?” she wondered. “No kept mistress on the side?” Her tone was not accusing, simply curious.
“He did not,” Jason said. “I’d stake my life on it. He was not necessarily a jolly man, not verbose—nothing like Cranford; he was serious and reflective. But he made no secret of his affection for my mother, or of any of us. And we were—weare, those of us who remain—a colorful bunch. My eldest brother vowed early on that he would never marry. My middle brother was an accomplished musician and studied music to the exclusion of almost anything else. I’ve been consumed by a restless sort of energy from the moment I could crawl. I was bollocks in school and descend into a sort of stupefied madness whenever I’m expected to remain in Middlesex for more than three days. He loved and accepted us all.”
“You miss him.”
“I do miss him,” said Jason. “If not for his memory, I would have foisted the whole bloody dukedom on an eager uncle and washed my hands of everything but my mother and sisters.”
“Perhaps grief is easier for you to bear,” she said, “than inactivity.”
He harrumphed. “Aye. But who would admit to that? ‘I’d rather be sad than bored.’ ”
“You cannot help how you feel.”
“One thing is certain,” he said. “Your story is a reminder that fathers can create far greater burdens than dying, and certainly greater burdens than saddling the new heir with a dukedom he doesn’t want. The misdeed done to you by Cranford is inexcusable.”
“It is not a contest,” she said sadly.
“No. But do not diminish what you have overcome. Will you tell me the rest?”
She took a deep breath and let it out on a contemplative sigh. “Well, ultimately my mother dragged me into her lap to restrain me; she could not lean across the table forever. Whenever she removed her hand from my mouth, I gasped and sputtered and sobbed. She begged me in my ear to be silent, and I would promise to do it, only to sob, ‘Pap—’ before she could clamp down her hand again.
“Eventually, the earl’s daughter, Wendy, said, ‘Father, whatever is the matter with the little girl sitting by the window?’ Cranford glanced at me—our eyes actually connected—and he looked away. He said to his daughter, ‘Do not look at her, Wendy darling, she may be touched in the head or affected in some way. Allow her mother to tend to her.’ ”
“My God, Isobel,” Jason hissed. “And you heard this?”
“We heard every word,” Isobel said. “We heard it all and we witnessed it all. Tears streamed from my eyes, soaking my mother’s glove. I could not believe the doting man I’d known as my papa would knowingly reject us.
“When, at last, his family finished their tea—it took nearly an hour—they drifted out. The earl did not look back, not once. Outside the window, I saw him take up Wendy’s hand and swing it between them as they walked. They disappeared into the crowd.
“When my mother finally released me, I fell onto the floor in a heap, sobbing. In hindsight, I’m sure Ididappear affected. I was consumed with jealousy and hatred and a frustrated lack of understanding of how the world worked.
“Meanwhile, my mother was forced to deal with the staff, to apologize for my behavior and for the fact that we actuallycould notpayfor the expensive tea ordered by the earl. She’d carried no money—we never required money when the earl was with us. She was forced to beg the owner to allow her to return later to settle up. We ate lean for a month to pay for the champagne.”
“But did he ever come back ’round? Did he have nothing to say for his behavior? My God, did he reimburse your mother for the abandoned bill?”
“Mama refused to see him after that, or to take his money. Ultimately he found a way to send money to me, which I spent on silly extravagances—sweets I gave to the street boys, rabbits for sale in the market I released into the park. We left England not long after and began traveling to the playhouses of Europe.
