“The great irony is, if it hadn’t been for me, I think my mother would have continued the affair. She was not troubled by the fact that the earl was married nor that their relationship was a secret, open or otherwise. She adored him. But the stunt in the café outraged her on my behalf. She loves me, for all of her faults. And the pain of that day interrupted any future relations she would ever have with Cranford.” A deep breath. “And good riddance. In hindsight, I cannot believe I kept the compass as long as I did.”
They reached the bend in the river. Jason hadn’t noticed the rising sound of rushing water. A thick mist rose in the distance. Below it, a shimmering waterfall spilled down.
Isobel led him to the shore, and they picked their way beside the water until they could observe the cascade from a ledge. The tumbling water, swirling wind, and fine spray was quietly beautiful. He’d seen crashing,violent waterfalls in Scotland and Germany, thunderous shows of the power of nature, but this was a slower, gentler scene. The crystal water spilled and bounced.
Isobel pointed out the route of the river beyond the falls and the watermark on the ravine wall where the depth swelled from melted snow in late spring. She scratched green fuzz from a rock and told him that Iceland was home to more than a hundred types of moss and lichen.
Jason listened, trying to absorb the strange, mystic beauty of the place; even so, what he really wanted to know washer. How had she recovered from the rejection of that day, and how had she cultivated such a beautiful self-assuredness, despite society’s view on fatherless children? The taunts of Drummond Hooke sprang to mind, and Jason was alternately furious and also simply in awe of Isobel’s confidence.
Despite the beauty around them, the true marvel that day was Isobel Tinker. She’d been a marvel since the moment they met.
They returned to their possessions by walking along the riverbank, picking their way barefooted over warm, smooth rocks.
“I am sorry, Isobel,” he said softly. “For this terrible part of your life. I knew the old earl. He was as you described, jovial and verbose. I had no idea he had... another family.”
“Make no mistake,” she said, laughing, “the man was in possession of only one family. My mother and I were... afterthoughts. Amusements. Pretty little things that he admired when it was convenient. We held no lasting value. The value belongs to thelegitimate. The chosen. The recognized.”
She shook her head so violently she had to pause andcatch her balance. “Better to mean nothing to the man than to be an afterthought.”
“I would not argue,” he said.
“I’ll never be an afterthought,” she declared softly. “Not ever again.”
“Peter Boyd—” began Jason.
“I was not an afterthought to Peter,” she corrected. “No more than anyone else. Even AnaClara was second best to Peter’s own self-interest. When I was with him, I was included in the group, whether I had a place in his bed or not. The Lost Boys were a family. They were a wild and uneven family. But they were loyal. The reason I trailed him around Europe was, I longed so desperately to be part of a recognizedfamily.”
“He left you,” insisted Jason, “carrying a baby, alone, here.” He gestured to the raw landscape around them.
“No,” she said. “Ilefthim. I refused to go on. I could have gone if I’d wanted.”
“Isobel,” he began, although he had no idea what he wished to say. He wanted to recover her hand. He wanted to haul her against him. He wanted to pick her up and sink again into the warm water.
“She wasn’t even pretty,” said Isobel, jumping from rock to rock on the shore.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Wendy, the earl’s daughter,” she said. “My mother made our appearance such a priority when the earl called. Our best clothes. She sent for a special maid to dress our hair. She was a tyrant about pretty manners too. We were always to be cheerful and clever and agreeable. I’d been groomed to do everything to endear myself. But when his real family appeared, I saw the truth. None of it had mattered. Wendy Bask was sourand bland. Her mother, the countess, enjoyed a fraction of the beauty of my radiant mother. I realized then that even beauty, an illusion my mother has pursued her entire life, means nothing compared toapproval. To being among the ‘sanctioned.’
“For years, I was angry that the circumstances of my birth situated me so far outside the realm of it—ofapproval. I became a Lost Boy because it was a thumb in the eye of who is approved and who is not.”
“And here I thought you enjoyed the travel,” he joked.
“I do enjoy travel. But travel for a young woman alone is hardlyapproved. That is why my work at Everland Travel feels important. It creates an ‘approved’ way for women to see things beyond their own gardens. I do not hate women of privilege,” she corrected.
She took a deep breath. “I don’t hate anyone, honestly. Even the ‘approved.’
“Raging at the world is no way to live,” she continued. “When I made the happy discovery that working in a travel shop could be acceptable, and thatIwas acceptable enough to pull it off, I knew I’d stumbled upon the very best chance of survival. I have found satisfaction in that.”
The hopelessness of that statement made Jason a little ill. And she’d said it to convey hope.
Speaking to the horizon, he said, “That is what I am aiming for in my life as duke. Survival.”
She made a noise of acknowledgment. “I suppose you see some great irony here. You have no wish to be duke, and I come off as wanting to be an earl’s daughter. But please do not misunderstand. I didn’t want to be anearl’sdaughter. I would’ve been happy to beanyone’sdaughter. Or no one’s daughter. I simply did notwant to be deceived and then rejected by a . . . by a nonfather.”
“I see no irony,” Jason said. “Only selfish men who have mistreated you. They had the opportunity to experience the joy of knowing you and loving you—instead, they took advantage. No wonder you’ve asked me to... to stay back. But—”
He glanced at her, determined to address their intimacy in some way.
