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He could not blurt out that he found her beautiful, even if that admission circled near the top of his thoughts. Her dark hair and eyes stood out to him, drew him in, and made him wish to know the thoughts behind those eyes. Nor could he admire aloud her wit without sounding like a witless fool himself. Every compliment he sought to pay her either seemed not enough or else far too much for the small amount of time they had known one another.
His father would know what to say. He’d heard the duke speak to the duchess in kind compliments and soft endearments. Did that sort of thing grow easier with time? Or had his father always known exactly what to say to the woman he most admired?
A better question: Why could Simon not go even an hour without comparing himself to his father?
He sighed, and Isleen’s eyebrows rose, though she did not turn to look at him.
“Does something vex you, my lord?”
“Call me Simon.” He blurted out the offer without thought. “At least…at least when we’re among friends.”
She turned, briefly taking her eyes from their path to give him a surprised glance. And a smile that warmed him inside and out. “Thank you. You must call me Isleen among the same.”
He’d wanted to call her Isleen for some time. Had thought of her as that for longer than appropriate. “Isleen.” It was only the second time he had said her name aloud, and he wasn’t even certain she had heard it the evening before, when it had slipped past his usually guarded tongue. What had she asked him? It took him a moment to remember.
“Nothing vexes me.” He quickly amended, “Except the snow. Being caught in the storm.”
“The most obvious answer, of course.” She sounded more amused than understanding, and he couldn’t help his grimace. “There. What were you thinking just then?” she demanded with a playful gleam in her eyes. “Perhaps talking about whatever it is will be of some help.”
Simon shifted forward in his saddle as they came to a slightly steeper portion of the road, but his horse handled it marvelously. They had yet to find any ice beneath the snow, which meant going back for Andrew and Josephine would take little time, especially in a coach or sleigh.
If he confided his thoughts to her, what would she make of them? Would she think him right to worry about his place as an heir? Or think him ridiculous for questioning something nature had already decided?
“A moment ago, I was thinking of my father.” He did not look at her as he revealed his internal struggles. “I wonder, quite often, in fact, if I will ever be half the man that he is.”
Silence met that declaration. There was no quick word, no laugh or sigh, only the quiet. His courage took a moment to gain enough strength for him to look at the woman at his side, to interpret her expression if nothing else.
Isleen appeared serene. Her countenance was soft, her eyes gentle as they stared ahead, the corners of her lips tilted ever-so-slightly upward. She caught him staring and turned to face him, her expression unchanged as she spoke. “I think wondering such a thing about a man like the duke, who by all accounts is among the best of men, means you will never stop trying. And that is the most important thing, I think, about being a good person. Whether it is leadership or kindness, courage or gentleness, as long as we never stop trying to be those things, we will succeed.”
If he hadn’t already been sitting atop his horse, he would have needed to sit immediately upon hearing those words. They were too heavy. Too much to think about. Despite how sincerely and simply she spoke, there were depths to that sort of thinking that he hadn’t considered before.
It took him several seconds to realize he’d stopped his horse without meaning to. Isleen had continued forward, so Simon nudged his mount to hurry on at double the speed until he was once again even with Isleen.
Before he could speak, or question what she had said, the Irish woman started talking again, in a light tone that was at odds with her words. “I lost someone very dear to me, years ago. One of the things I have often asked myself since then is whether he would be proud of me. Whether he would see me now and be happy that I am happy. He was full of life and laughter. I promised myself, when the clouds began to clear after I learned he was gone, that I would honor his memory by finding joy in the world around me.”
She looked down at her hands holding the reins, and he watched her shoulders rise and fall on a deep sigh. “Measuring ourselves against the expectations of others, real or imagined, is quite difficult. It creates a weight on our hearts and souls, I think, that we do not always know how to carry.”
“Your mother told me something of the sailor—” He stopped himself from saying the rest. From saying,the sailor you loved.
A laugh heavily tempered with sorrow escaped her. “Oh dear. Why ever would she do that?” She didn’t sound upset at the breach in her mother’s trust. Curious. But not angry. “I don’t suppose it is secret. His name was Sean Cussane. He was the second son of an Irish gentleman.”
“He must have been special, to inspire you that way.” Simon turned away from her, his heart stinging as much for her as himself. “I am sorry if speaking of him is painful. That wasn’t my intention.”
They came to a downed branch, and Simon held his hand up for her to stop while he dismounted. Icicles had formed along the parts of the limb that stuck up into the air. He took the heavy end of the branch, lifted, and dragged it to the side of the path. The snow came up past his ankles on the road, and where it had drifted, the white powder reached nearly to his knees.
He came back and stood beside his horse a moment, breathing heavily. The branch had been heavier than it looked.
“It is and it isn’t painful. To speak of Sean, I mean.” Isleen adjusted the reins in her hand. “I don’t mind thinking of him or speaking about him. It’s easier now than it was when the grief was still fresh. Did my mother tell you I’d promised myself to him?”
That pain seared his heart again, and Simon shook his head. He watched her over the back of his horse, his hands on the saddle. He should mount. They should move on. People were waiting. Those at the castle might be worried.
Yet nothing was more important than what Isleen revealed to him that moment. It was a piece of her heart. Something worth treasuring. Worth waiting for.
“She didn’t tell me that,” he admitted softly, studying the way her dark eyes glimmered. Was she near to tears? Had his prying hurt her still more?
Her smile surprised him. “I loved him very much. We said we would marry after the war. When word came of his death, I grieved deeply. But Sean had a way about him that made it difficult to stay somber. All my memories of him were full of his laugh, his jokes, and all the stories he told. He wouldn’t want me to lose myself to sorrow. So, I made up my mind to honor him the best way I could. By finding happiness again.”
Simon weighed her words, then nodded once. “And that is how you measure yourself. By his memory.” He mounted his horse. “It sounds as though it has worked out well for you, Isleen. You have a cheerful heart. And a gentle one.”
