the city on your own?” Jocelyn asked Derek, who’d been silent far too long, his gaze fixed on the road shrouded in early morning haze.
“Most of the time,” he replied.
“Do you not find the journey lonely, especially at night?”
“No. I like being on my own. I have plenty to think about.”
“Such as?” Lydia? Jocelyn wanted to ask but stopped herself.
“We live in extraordinary times,” Derek said. “The decisions we make today will reverberate through the centuries.”
“Do you think the Continental Army stands a chance against the might of Britain?” Jocelyn asked, eager to draw Derek into a political discussion. The Wilders scrupulously avoided talking about the rebellion, but she’d never heard them proclaim their devotion to the king either. Were they afraid to say too much in front of her, not knowing where her loyalties lay, or did they simply not care either way, believing themselves immune to the winds of change that blew outside their small rural community?
“I do,” Derek replied.
“But the Americans are sorely outnumbered, if what the newspapers say is anything to go on.”
“Maybe so, but they’re more committed.”
“How do you mean?” Jocelyn asked.
“A paid soldier fights differently than a man who’s defending his family and his homeland.”
Jocelyn nodded. There was truth in that. “The British will never surrender New York,” she said.
“No, but they will be driven out,” Derek replied.
“You seem awfully sure.”
“It’s what I believe,” he said.
“Have you ever considered enlisting?” Jocelyn asked, wondering just how committed Derek was to the cause of freedom.
“There are many ways to fight,” Derek said evasively.
“What about Ben? Does he share your conviction?” Jocelyn asked, not ready to let the matter drop.
Derek turned to look at her. “Does it matter?” he snapped. “Ben rarely sees past the end of his own nose.”
The statement might have been humorous had his scowl not been so thunderous. Jocelyn had a feeling politics were a sore subject between the brothers, among other things.
“And what about you?” Derek demanded. “Where do you stand?”
“What? Me? I don’t take sides,” Jocelyn replied, uncomfortable now that the focus had turned to her.
“Don’t you?” Derek asked.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I just think every person should have an opinion on issues that affect them directly.”
“Even women?” Jocelyn teased. Most men didn’t value women’s opinions, even if they were well informed and often more intelligent than that of their menfolk.
“Especially women,” Derek replied.
“Why’s that?”
“Because women are sorely underestimated as weapons of war. They’re clever and brave and can go places men can’t.”
Jocelyn bit her lip. Something of what Derek said resonated with her, but she couldn’t be sure what her views had been before the shipwreck. What of her husband? Had he been a revolutionary or a royalist? Had she agreed with him? Had they debated openly, or had she kept her views to herself, outwardly supporting him? She wished she could remember.
“Let’s change the subject, shall we?” Derek said.
“All right. Are you planning to propose to Lydia Blackwell?” Jocelyn blurted out, and instantly regretted asking.
Derek turned to face her, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Would you mind if I did?”
“Eh, no, of course not. It’s just that everyone seems to expect it.”
“Who’s everyone?” Derek asked, clearly amused by the turn the conversation had taken.
“Lydia, for one.”
“Has she said so?” Derek asked, looking very pleased with himself.
“Not in so many words. I think Ben is hoping you will.”
“Ben wants the farm. He doesn’t care who I marry as long as I leave the running of it to him.”
“Would you?” Jocelyn asked. She’d assumed Derek would bring his wife to live at the farm, but perhaps he intended to live with Lydia in town and work at the Blackwell Arms.
“I hate farming. I’m not cut out for it,” Derek replied with a shrug.
“What are you cut out for?”
“A life of adventure,” Derek joked. “And heart-pounding romance.”
“You’re not going to marry Lydia, then,” Jocelyn said.
“And how did you arrive at that conclusion?”
“Because the only heart that’s pounding is hers,” Jocelyn replied. And not necessarily for you, she added mentally.
“Don’t presume to know my feelings,” Derek said, but there was no heat in his voice. He was enjoying their banter.
“I’m right, though. Aren’t I?”
“You might be,” Derek teased, that maddening smile playing about his lips. “By the same token, I don’t think there’ll be wedding bells for you and Ben.”
“I’ve never done anything to encourage Ben. You know that.”
“He doesn’t need much encouragement. A damsel in distress is enough to set his heart aflame.”
“That’s not saying much for