Chapter 8
Josephine sat rigidly in the coach, her gloved hands clenched in her lap as the countryside rolled by in a blur.
The rhythmic rattle of the wheels did nothing to soothe her temper.
She did not even attempt to hide the disdain that twisted her features—Alexander did not deserve the courtesy.
How dare he think she had left of her own accord with that loathsome Mr. Broderick?
She had been abducted, for heaven’s sake, yet her brother looked at her as though she were the author of her own disgrace.
The silence inside the carriage was stifling until her mother’s soft, carefully pleasant voice broke through.
“The roads are rather accommodating for this time of year, are they not?”
Josephine turned her gaze from the window to her mother’s delicate features. Lady Redden’s tone was far too bright, far too intentional. It was the voice she used when smoothing feathers, and Josephine knew precisely whose feathers she meant to smooth.
“Yes, quite so,” Alexander replied, his expression perfectly composed. He was humoring their mother, of course. He always did.
Josephine’s patience snapped. “How dare you think I eloped with Mr. Broderick?” she demanded.
The faint smile vanished from her brother’s lips. “What were we supposed to think, Josephine? You went out onto the veranda and then vanished. There was no word. No note. Only your absence.”
She gave a humorless laugh. “That tends to happen when one is abducted.”
Alexander’s brow furrowed as though she were speaking nonsense. “When Mr. Broderick told me you shared a mutual affection, I made it clear that any union between you would be unacceptable.”
Her jaw dropped. “Mutual affection?” she echoed in disbelief. “I have never—ever—felt anything of the sort towards that man.”
“Come now,” Alexander said, his tone maddeningly reasonable. “I have seen the way you look at one another.”
“Then you must need spectacles,” she shot back, her temper rising. “I have never been able to abide his company.”
“You’ve always been cordial to him,” he countered.
“Because he is your friend and business partner,” she retorted. “I endured him out of politeness, not preference.”
Alexander muttered something under his breath—something that sounded suspiciously like, “Likely story.”
Josephine wished for her fan, purely so she might throw it at him. Her fingers curled into fists instead. “You are a jackninny.”
“A what?”
“A jackninny,” she said with full conviction. “I am so upset that I have invented a new word to describe you.”
“Josephine,” their mother interjected, “your brother does not think the worst of you. We are merely trying to understand what happened.”
She turned towards her mother, frustration welling in her chest. “There is nothing to understand, Mother. I was abducted. Mr. Broderick held a pistol to my side and forced me into his coach. He meant to take me to Gretna Green. If his carriage had not overturned, I might have been trapped in a sham of a marriage by now.”
Her mother gasped softly, one gloved hand rising to her throat. But Alexander only stared at her, unimpressed. “Why would Mr. Broderick abduct you?”
“I do not know,” she snapped. “Perhaps you should ask him.”
“I would,” Alexander responded, “if I had seen him since the ball.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Perhaps if I used smaller words, you would understand me more clearly.”
“Josephine,” their mother warned, her voice taut with strain. “Be kind, especially with family.”
“He is being impossible,” Josephine protested, crossing her arms.
“And you are not?” Alexander shot back. “You expect us to believe this tale when you were found comfortably residing at the Duke of Ashmoore’s estate?”
“I almost died,” she cried, her voice breaking with anger and disbelief. “If the gamekeeper hadn’t found me, I would have frozen to death.”
Alexander’s eyes narrowed. “So you were alone with him as well?” His voice rose in outrage. “Good gads, how many men were you alone with?”
Her chest burned. “Did you not hear me? I said he saved my life! Does that mean nothing to you?”
“Well,” Alexander said after a pause, “I am glad you are not dead—if that is what you’re asking.”
Josephine stared at him, her throat tight. “Why do I even bother speaking to you?”
Her mother’s voice, faintly desperate, broke the tension. “The good news is that no one noticed you leaving the ball early.”
Josephine gave a disbelieving laugh. “Leaving? I was abducted, Mother.”
“Yes, yes, that is what I meant,” Lady Redden murmured, looking flustered.
“I want Mr. Broderick arrested,” Josephine said firmly. “For what he did to me.”
Alexander scoffed. “If what you say is true, arresting him would ruin you. The ton would learn that you were alone with him in a carriage, and your reputation would be destroyed. Is that truly what you want?”
“I want justice,” she replied, her voice trembling.
“And I will not allow you to tarnish our family’s good name over what is likely a misunderstanding,” Alexander said.
“A misunderstanding?” Her mouth fell open. “He held me at gunpoint, Alexander!”
“I will speak to him,” he said, unmoved. “Until I have, I am taking no one’s side. Let us drop this.”
Josephine turned to her mother, her eyes stinging. “You believe me, don’t you?”
Her mother sighed. “I do, dearest. But we must proceed with caution. We cannot risk your reputation.”
Alexander made a derisive sound. “Not that it matters. Josephine has had three Seasons and failed to secure a match.”
“It only takes one gentleman,” their mother remarked.
“I am tired of paying for one failed Season after another,” Alexander said.
Josephine’s fury flared anew. “I have had only three, not thirty!”
“Two too many,” he muttered.
“And where is your wife?” she demanded. “You are five years older than I and have yet to wed yourself.”
“It is different for gentlemen.”
“It shouldn’t be,” she shot back.
“Enough!” their mother exclaimed, exasperated. “Both of you! We are family. We must speak with love and respect.”
Josephine turned away and pressed her forehead to the cool glass. She was done. Words were useless against her brother’s stubborn pride. If even her own family doubted her, what chance did she have of being believed by anyone else?
The coach jolted violently as it struck a rut in the road. Josephine braced her hand against the wall to steady herself.
“Such a lovely gown you have on,” her mother said hastily, trying to mend what could not be mended.
Josephine glanced down at the gown. “It belonged to the late duchess. Her maid insisted I take it.”
“And what of your ballgown?” Alexander asked in disbelief. “The one I paid an exorbitant sum for.”
“It was ruined when I jumped from a moving carriage to escape Mr. Broderick,” Josephine said. She did not even bother to temper the annoyance that pulsed beneath every word.
Her mother released a weary sigh, pressing a gloved hand to her temple as though the conversation itself gave her a headache. “I do hope you two will behave at the masquerade ball tomorrow night.”
Josephine stiffened. “I have no desire to go to a ball.” The very thought of it made her stomach twist.
“You had better go,” Alexander remarked. “You have an entire wardrobe of ballgowns that I paid for. I would hate for my money to go to waste.”
Josephine’s retort sat ready on her tongue, but her mother spoke before she could release it.
“You must go, dearest. If anyone did notice you leaving the ball with Mr. Broderick, your attendance tomorrow would quiet the gossip. Let them see you laughing and unbothered, and certainly without him at your side.”
As much as Josephine hated to admit it, her mother was right. “Very well. I will attend. But do not expect me to enjoy myself.”
“Perhaps you will hide away in the library, as you usually do at such gatherings,” Alexander said.
“You know about that?” she asked.
“I may be in the card room, but I do hear things,” he said with smug satisfaction.
Her brow furrowed. “How did you even notice I was missing that night, then?”
“Uncle Leroy saw you depart the ballroom,” her mother explained. “When you did not return, he grew concerned and told me. I sent Alexander to look for you.”
Josephine turned her gaze pointedly towards her brother, her lips curling in mock sweetness. “I am sorry to have pulled you away from such an important pursuit as gaming with your gentleman friends.”
Alexander gave an exaggerated sigh. “You should be. I folded my hand prematurely and lost ten pounds because of you.”
“Take it out of my pin money, then.”
He barked out a laugh. “That would take years. I rather hope you will be married before then.”
Josephine tilted her chin, her pride flaring. “Father’s will stipulates that I inherit my dowry upon my six-and-twentieth birthday. I shall manage perfectly well without your benevolence.”
Alexander settled back into his seat. “So I must endure you draining the household coffers for another six years. How delightful.”
Their mother’s patience finally snapped. She waved her hand sharply, her tone clipped. “Enough. The both of you are behaving like wretched children. I believe it would be best if we rode the remainder of the way in silence.”
“I agree,” Josephine said, folding her hands in her lap.
Alexander’s dark eyes met hers. “As do I.”
“At least you two can agree on something,” their mother muttered, sinking back against the seat with a resigned sigh.
Josephine turned her face towards the window, the rolling countryside blurring past. The tension in the coach pressed upon her like a weight, and for one wistful moment she longed for the quiet of the cottage—the crackle of the fire, the scent of pine, the steady, calming presence of Jude.
There, she had not been a marquess’s daughter or a failed debutante. She had simply been herself. No gossip, no judgment, no false smiles.
If only she could have stayed there a little longer—just one more evening beside him—before duty and expectation closed in once more.