Chapter 8 #3
“I jumped from the moving carriage,” she said simply.
His brows shot up. “You what?”
“I leapt before it overturned,” she explained, a hint of pride in her voice. “Then I fled into the woods, where a kind gamekeeper found me. He brought me to the Duke of Ashmoore’s estate and saw to it that I was safe.”
Leroy exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “A blessing indeed.”
“It was,” Josephine agreed softly. “But I am home now. Safe.”
“Thank heavens for that,” her uncle said, pulling her into another brief embrace. “I don’t know what I would have done if anything had happened to you. I promised your father I would look after you as if you were my own.”
Emotion caught in Josephine’s throat, and for a moment she could only nod. The world might doubt her, her brother might scorn her, but here—in her uncle’s arms and under her mother’s watchful eyes—she finally felt believed.
Her uncle dropped his arms and took a step back. “I do apologize for arriving as I did, but I have been watching from my study window for your coach to come up the street.”
“I am so glad that you did,” she responded.
Leroy turned to her mother, concern carved into the lines beside his mouth. “Are you well, Diane?”
Her mother gave a brave, tired smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I am rather fatigued, but nothing that a little rest won’t remedy.”
“Then I shall take my leave until dinner—unless you are too tired this evening,” Leroy offered.
“You are not getting out of dinner with us so easily,” Lady Redden insisted.
Leroy chuckled and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He straightened and added, “Go, rest and I will return shortly.”
“Must you go?” Josephine asked, half-hoping he would stay. The notion of being alone did not sit well with her at the moment.
He glanced towards the long clock in the corner. “I suppose I could stay,” he said. Then with a crooked smile, he added, “But only because you are my favorite niece.”
A laugh escaped her despite herself. “You are most gracious, Uncle.”
Her mother stifled a yawn and lifted a hand to her mouth. “Forgive me. I will retire, but I will not be long.” She moved off down the corridor, her shoulders hunched against weariness.
Josephine noticed the way Leroy’s gaze lingered after their mother as if he could see the fatigue laid bare. “I am worried about her,” he said at last.
“She will be all right,” Josephine lied, or perhaps convinced herself, because she could not bear to think otherwise.
“She always is,” he said. “Your father chose wisely when he married her.”
Gesturing towards the drawing room, Josephine asked, “Would you care for some tea in the drawing room?”
“No, I require something stronger,” he replied. “It is taking every bit of restraint I have not to find Mr. Broderick and beat him within an inch of his life.”
“And what would that accomplish?”
“It would make me feel better,” Leroy said bluntly. “Or, at the very least, I could challenge him to a duel.”
She felt the old, familiar flare of frustration. “Alexander would not approve. He seems of a firm mind that I willingly left with Mr. Broderick.”
Leroy barked a short exclamation of contempt. “What poppycock! Mr. Broderick is merely a younger son of an earl. He is not worthy of you.”
Josephine allowed herself a small, rueful smile. “It is not his birth that offends me so much as his character.”
“As well it should,” Leroy growled. He began to pace, heavy boots sounding against the entry hall’s floorboards. “I cannot abide the thought of what would have happened had you not leapt from that carriage.”
“I would not have married him,” she asserted.
He halted abruptly. “But you might not have had a choice in Gretna Green. Those anvil priests are notorious for turning a blind eye to the matter of consent when a gentleman has a mind to it.”
“Fortunately, it did not come to that,” she said.
Leroy’s hands clenched at his sides. “We must think of your reputation now. That is what matters the most. Mr. Broderick will not ruin your future. I won’t allow it.”
The conviction in his tone both comforted and unsettled her. “Thank you, Uncle,” she murmured, her throat tightening with emotion.
He stepped closer and gently took her hands into his own, his callused fingers warm and solid against her chilled ones.
“You are safe now,” he said softly. “That is enough for tonight. We’ll deal with the rest tomorrow.
” His gaze flicked upward, and his expression darkened.
“Was that wound from when you jumped out of the carriage?”
“It was.”
“I don’t like that you were injured, Poppet.”
She squeezed his hands, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “It looks worse than it is, I promise. It hardly aches now.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he released her hand. “Come, let’s get something to drink before dinner.”
As she followed him to the drawing room, she let herself relax. The world still felt unsteady, but with her uncle beside her, she could almost believe that everything would, somehow, be right again.