Chapter 4 #2
Lucy moved to the wardrobe and opened it with a small flourish.
“The late duchess’s gowns are still kept here.
This one”—she withdrew a rich blue gown trimmed with delicate embroidery and puffed sleeves—“was made only months before her passing. I believe it will fit you with only minor alterations.”
Josephine’s eyes widened. “That gown is lovely.”
“The duchess commissioned several before she took ill,” Lucy said, brushing the fabric fondly. “The styles are not so out of fashion, and the quality—well, it is impeccable.”
Josephine crossed the room and ran her fingertips along the smooth muslin. “I do not think I have ever worn anything so fine.”
Lucy smiled, a hint of pride in her voice. “Then today shall be your first, my lady.” She laid the gown carefully across the bed. “Now, let’s get you into the bath. I’ll send for a tray since you must be famished.”
“I am,” she admitted.
As Lucy began unfastening the back of her gown, Josephine asked, “What do you know about the gamekeeper?”
“You mean Jude?”
“Yes.” She tried to sound casual, but her curiosity betrayed her.
Lucy continued to loosen the buttons. “He’s a good man, my lady. Quiet, but dependable. Keeps mostly to himself, though everyone here trusts him. He’s… well, honorable.”
Josephine turned her head slightly. “You seem fond of him.”
“Everyone here is,” Lucy replied simply. “You’re most fortunate he found you wandering in the woods. Many wouldn’t have taken the trouble to bring a stranger here.”
Josephine’s throat tightened at that. “Yes,” she agreed, her gaze dropping to the firelight. “I am most fortunate, indeed.”
Moments later, she slipped out of her ruined gown and stepped into the bath. The water was deliciously warm, scented faintly of rose oil. A sigh escaped her lips as the heat sank into her sore muscles.
Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Jude’s steady hands, his patient voice, the warmth in his eyes when he’d promised she would be all right. She smiled faintly and let herself sink a little deeper into the water, feeling the world’s weight ease, if only for right now.
Jude sat in the parlor, the fire crackling softly as he turned another page of the ledger before him.
Numbers blurred into one another. He ought to concentrate—he had a great deal of work to see to—but his mind refused to stay fixed upon columns and sums. Maintaining the ruse of being a humble gamekeeper required careful planning, yet his thoughts drifted again to her.
He should leave—ride back to his cottage and put distance between himself and Lady Josephine before he did something reckless.
But something rooted him in place. Perhaps it was the sense of duty, that protective instinct that had flared the moment he found her half-conscious in that cold, damp stable.
Yes, that must be it. Surely, it had nothing to do with the way her eyes softened when she smiled…
or the way her voice carried both strength and vulnerability.
He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair.
He had a good life. An honorable one. Yet even that felt like a burden these days.
The weight of expectation, of duty, pressed upon him like armor that had long since grown too heavy to bear.
His father’s voice—stern, commanding—echoed in his mind.
Do not fail, Jude. You must live up to the name.
And what if he couldn’t? What if he never would?
A smooth, familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.
“I understand we have a new gamekeeper.”
Jude’s head snapped up. Leaning lazily against the doorframe, his arms crossed and a smirk firmly in place, stood his brother.
“Luca,” Jude said, closing the ledger with deliberate calm. “What are you doing here? I thought you were still on your wedding tour.”
“We were,” Luca replied, stepping into the room. “But the roads were dreadful, and since Ashmoore Hall happens to be on our route back to London, we decided to stop for the evening. Far more comfortable than a coaching inn, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I do.”
“Speaking of making your life difficult… I also heard there’s a guest in residence. A certain Lady Josephine Tweedale?”
Jude stiffened slightly. “It is true. I found her in the stable at the cottage.”
“Found her?”
“At first I thought her dead,” he admitted. “But she was very much alive and brazen enough to threaten me with a pitchfork for my trouble.”
Luca laughed outright. “Good heavens, I like this young lady already.”
“I couldn’t very well leave Josephine there,” Jude said, his tone defensive even to his own ears. “She was injured and terrified. I brought her into the cottage, stitched her wound, and… well, she mistook me for the gamekeeper.”
“And you have done nothing to correct her?” Luca asked, his brows raised in amused disbelief.
“What choice do I have?” Jude countered. “If she knew who I truly was, word would spread before she even left this estate. I will not find myself the subject of speculation or an unwanted betrothal. Women of the ton can be… calculating.”
Luca arched a brow. “So you’ve often said. But tell me, Brother—do you truly believe Lady Josephine falls into that category?”
“I hardly know her,” Jude replied quickly. “It is not worth the risk.”
His brother’s knowing grin widened. “Of course. Entirely logical. Not worth the risk at all.”
Ignoring him, Jude rose and crossed to the sideboard to pour a glass of brandy. “She was abducted and taken against her will towards Gretna Green. The coach overturned in the storm, killing the driver and footman.”
“I daresay that she is lucky to be alive.”
“I agree, wholeheartedly. I’ve already sent riders to alert her family,” Jude remarked. “I expect a response within a few days.”
Luca took a seat opposite him, regarding him with open curiosity. “You seem rather well-informed about your guest. You even refer to her by her given name, I notice.”
Jude paused, the glass halfway to his lips. “It was merely a slip of the tongue.”
“I see,” Luca said, with that irritating tone that implied he saw far more than Jude wished him to. “And how long do you intend to keep up this charade?”
“Until she’s safely returned to her family.”
“Remarkable,” Luca murmured, leaning back. “I am in awe that she has not recognized you. I suppose she wasn’t expecting to find the heir to a dukedom hiding away in the woods, pretending to be a servant.”
“No,” Jude agreed. “She wasn’t.”
Luca’s gaze grew thoughtful. “Charlotte will undoubtedly know of her. What shall we say to her?”
“I will tell Lady Josephine that you and your wife have arrived for the evening. That should suffice,” Jude said curtly. “But do speak to Charlotte. She will need to be discreet.”
Luca frowned. “Discreet, yes, but I still think you’re playing with fire. If you truly wish to protect the lady’s reputation, you should leave. Return to your cottage until she’s collected by her family.”
“I can’t.” The words left his mouth before he could temper them.
Luca studied him. “Can’t—or won’t?”
Jude set the glass down with more force than necessary. “I gave her my word that she would be safe. I won’t abandon her now.”
“Look around you,” Luca countered, gesturing towards the richly appointed room. “She is safe. There’s no need for you to stay.”
Jude’s jaw tightened. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly,” Luca responded. “You seem awfully protective of a young woman you barely know.”
“Leave it, Luca.”
“Did something happen at that cottage?”
Jude’s gaze snapped to him. “What are you implying?”
“Nothing,” Luca said with feigned innocence. “Merely that two young people, stranded together in the woods, might find… comfort in one another’s company.”
“Nothing happened,” Jude growled.
Luca held up his hands, all good humor again. “I believe you. But others might not. Rumors have a way of sprouting wings, and we both know how quickly they fly.”
Jude looked away, his pulse pounding harder than he cared to admit. “Then no one will ever know the truth of it.”
Luca’s smile turned wry. “They may not. But I think you know it well enough.”
Jude said nothing. He only stared into the flames, wishing that his brother’s words didn’t strike quite so close to the mark.
Rising from his chair, Luca said, “I will tell Charlotte—”
A soft voice interrupted him. “Tell me what?”