Chapter 7 #2
She drew herself upright, trying to ignore the hollow ache that spread through her. It is better this way, she told herself firmly. He is a gamekeeper. You are a lady. Whatever foolish feelings you harbor, they cannot—must not—be indulged.
As she followed her family from the room, she blinked back tears and lifted her chin. She would return to London, to the life she had always known. But deep down, she knew the truth. She was leaving more than Ashmoore Hall behind. She was leaving a part of her heart.
Jude lingered in the shadows of Ashmoore Hall. From where he stood, half-hidden by the ivy-covered pillar, he watched Josephine’s coach rattle away. Each turn of the wheels carried her farther from him, and though he told himself it was for the best, the hollow ache in his chest said otherwise.
This was how it should be. She would return to her world and he to his. Their paths had crossed only by cruel chance. Best not to imagine what might have been if she had known who he truly was.
Still, he couldn’t quite shake the memory of her eyes—earnest, unguarded, seeing him rather than the title he carried or the burdens that came with it. No one had ever looked at him that way.
He straightened his shoulders. Sentiment was a luxury he could not afford. There was work to be done.
Stepping from the shadows, he crossed the wide front steps. The great door opened before he reached it, and Glover, ever the efficient butler, inclined his head. “My lord.”
“Send four armed riders after Lady Josephine’s coach,” Jude ordered, his tone clipped, leaving no room for question. “They’re to remain unseen unless needed. Should anything happen, I want word sent here immediately.”
“Yes, my lord.” Glover hesitated, then added, “A messenger arrived earlier with a letter from His Grace. You will find it in your study.”
Jude gave a brief nod. “I’ll see to it at once.”
The familiar corridors swallowed him whole—portraits of long-dead ancestors staring down in silent judgment. He could almost hear his father’s voice echoing through the marble halls, reminding him of duty, of legacy, of expectations he had no heart to meet.
When he entered his study, he halted.
Luca sat in his armchair, brandy in hand, a faint, knowing smile on his lips. “I had a feeling you’d come creeping in sooner or later,” his brother drawled.
Jude’s mood soured instantly. “What do you want, Luca?”
“Only to welcome you back to your usual charming self,” Luca said lightly. “I take it Lady Josephine’s departure restored your pleasant disposition?”
Jude ignored him and crossed to the desk. The letter bearing his father’s seal lay atop the pile of correspondence. He broke it open, scanning the neat, uncompromising handwriting. By the time he finished, his jaw had tightened.
“Well?” Luca prompted, swirling his drink.
“Father wants me to return to Town,” Jude muttered, crushing the paper in his fist.
“Would that be such a terrible fate?”
“I’ve no wish to parade myself before the ton,” Jude snapped.
Luca arched a brow. “Because of Lady Gwendolyn?”
The name struck like a blade. Jude’s hand clenched around the letter. “I tire of the ton’s games and the women who play them.”
“It’s a game you’d do well to master,” Luca replied. “Ignoring it won’t make it disappear.”
Jude crossed to the drinks cart, poured himself a generous measure of brandy, and took a long sip. “I see no purpose there. I serve no function that matters.”
“And hiding here does?” Luca countered. “You’re avoiding life, Jude. Avoiding responsibility. Is this what you mean to do—rot away in that wretched cottage until the world forgets you exist?”
“I am fulfilling my responsibilities,” Jude said through his gritted teeth. “Just not the ones Father prefers.”
“You always were stubborn.”
“You wouldn’t understand my reasons.”
“Try me,” Luca said, setting his glass aside and leaning forward. “I have been told I am an excellent listener.”
Jude stared into his drink. “Father wants me to manage the accounts so he can spend more time in Parliament. He says it’s time I step into my role.”
“Reasonable enough.”
“Perhaps. But is that all I am meant for? Ledgers and meetings?” Jude’s voice hardened. “I should be grateful, I know—but every day I feel as though I am suffocating.”
Luca tilted his head. “You sound like a man in need of purpose. Or perhaps… a wife.”
Jude groaned. “Not you, too. Father says the same.”
“Because he’s right.” Luca’s grin returned. “A good woman gives a man direction. Look at me—before Charlotte, I had nothing but duties and frustration. Now, I can’t imagine a day without her.”
“I’m glad marriage suits you,” Jude said dryly, “but spare me your sermons. A wife would only add to my misery.”
“As you wish. I’ll drop the subject.” Luca’s tone softened. “But I’d be blind not to notice how you looked at Lady Josephine.”
Jude’s head snapped up. “It’s not affection.”
“No?” Luca’s smirk turned sly. “Interesting, since I overheard you ordering riders to follow her coach.”
“Merely a precaution,” Jude responded.