Chapter 11 #2
Josephine lay sprawled across her bed, her gaze fixed on the soft folds of her canopy.
How could she have been so blind? She threw an arm over her face.
Jude… no, Lord Pendryn… had never acted like a simple gamekeeper.
That commanding presence she had noticed—the quiet confidence, the gentle authority—she had dismissed it as her imagination.
But it had been real. And she had been an utter fool not to see it.
Her stomach twisted.
He must think I’m a complete idiot.
She reached for a pillow and pressed it over her face, letting out a muffled groan of humiliation. If only she could disappear into the mattress. Or better yet, punch his aggravatingly handsome face. Not that it would fix anything, but it would certainly make her feel better.
And the worst part? She understood exactly why he had kept his identity a secret. That made it worse because understanding only deepened her mortification.
The door swung open without a knock.
“Good morning, Child—though I suppose I ought to say good afternoon. You are sleeping the day away.”
Josephine didn’t bother lifting the pillow. “I don’t care,” she muttered.
Her mother stepped closer; the mattress dipped as she sat. A moment later, the pillow was plucked away.
Her mother’s brows rose. “I take it you are still upset over last night.”
“No.” The lie was pitiful even to her own ears.
“Mm.” Her mother gave her a pointed look. “Are you going to tell me what has you so upset?”
“No.”
“Interesting.” Her mother folded her hands neatly in her lap. “All I know is that you returned from the veranda after speaking with Lord Pendryn, and you had most definitely been crying.”
“I was not crying,” Josephine insisted weakly. “I merely had something in my eye.”
Her mother gave an unamused snort. “I may be many things, but a simpleton is not one of them. Now, what did he say that upset you?”
“Nothing.”
The frown deepened. “Very well, don’t tell me. But I have a theory, and it is one I doubt you will like.”
“Which is?”
Leaning closer, her mother lowered her voice conspiratorially. “That Lord Pendryn lied about being a gamekeeper.”
Josephine’s lips parted. “How did you know?”
A mischievous smile curved her mother’s mouth. “I may have overheard part of the conversation when I went to look for you.”
“You… you overheard?” Josephine groaned. “So you understand my shame?”
“No, I do not,” her mother said matter-of-factly. “Who cares that he hid who he really was? All he did was take you to his father’s house, did he not?”
Josephine bit her lip and kept her gaze fixed firmly on her coverlet.
Her mother let out an exasperated huff. “Ah. I suspected as much. There was more to the story than him simply finding you wandering the woods. Did something untoward happen between you two?”
Josephine bolted upright. “Good heavens, no! He was a perfect gentleman.”
“But you were alone with him?”
Josephine looked towards the window. “He found me in the stable… and brought me into his cottage. He stitched my wound and fed me.” Her voice softened. “If he hadn’t, I would have frozen to death in my thin muslin ballgown.”
Her mother nodded slowly. “Then it is fortunate you said nothing to Alexander. He would have marched you down the aisle by sundown.”
“I would not have done it,” Josephine said firmly. “It wasn’t Jude’s fault. He did nothing wrong. I will not let him shoulder blame he does not deserve.”
Her mother’s expression gentled. “Then let us keep this between us. Since nothing happened, there is no need for anyone else to know.”
Josephine sagged with relief. “Thank you, Mother.”
“Now that we have settled that, perhaps you might consider getting out of bed. We could go for lemon ice, or shopping, or—”
Josephine snatched the pillow out of her mother's hands and slapped it over her face again. “I would prefer to remain in bed. Perhaps forever.”
“You are being ridiculous.”
“Am I?” Josephine peeked out from beneath the pillow, narrowing her eyes. “Would you have mistaken an earl for a gamekeeper?”
Her mother’s silence was all she needed to know.
Josephine groaned and fell back dramatically. “And the worst part is that his brother—Lord Luca—and his wife knew the whole time. They were probably laughing at me.”
“I very much doubt that,” her mother said.
“I can never see them again,” Josephine declared. “It would be far too mortifying.”
Her mother gently tugged the pillow away again and tossed it aside. “Nothing is as dreadful as you are making it, my dear. Besides…” Her tone turned amused. “Something tells me Lord Pendryn feels equally sorry for his part in the matter.”
“And how would you know that?”
Her mother stood, smoothing her skirts. “Because you should see the entry hall. The flowers have been arriving all morning.”
“Flowers? Flowers? Does he truly think that flowers will make up for lying to me?”
“I know, dear.” Her mother patted her hand. “But you should at least hear him out when he comes to call.”
“Absolutely not!” Josephine declared. “If he comes to call, I shall throw rocks at him.”
Her mother burst into laughter. “I daresay you are exaggerating.”
“I am doing no such thing.” Josephine folded her arms, chin lifted defiantly. “And this is entirely different from when Father threw a rock at you.”
“You would throw rocks at an earl?” her mother asked, aghast.
“Yes,” Josephine replied without hesitation. “I absolutely would.”
Her mother crossed the room to the wardrobe, pulling out a pale blue gown embroidered with tiny seed pearls. “Well, if you insist on behaving like a hoyden, you may as well look lovely while doing it. This would suit you beautifully.”
Before Josephine could form a retort, the door opened. Martha entered carrying a tray.
“I brought you chocolate, my lady.”
Josephine straightened immediately. “At last, someone who speaks my language.” She swung her feet to the floor, determination returning with renewed vigor. “Thank you, Martha. You have single-handedly restored my will to live.”
Martha set the tray on the table and retrieved the gown from Lady Redden. “Shall we dress you?”
“I suppose,” Josephine muttered as she rose from the bed, “but it is under protest.”
“Duly noted,” Martha said, entirely unbothered.
Josephine removed her nightgown and stepped into the pale blue silk. When the final button was fastened, she moved to her dressing table and wrapped her hands around the warm cup of chocolate. She took a long, slow sip. The rich sweetness melted across her tongue.
Ah. Chocolate. Her one true love. It would never lie about being a gamekeeper.
Martha removed her cap, picked up a brush, and began coaxing Josephine’s hair into order.
“I take it the masquerade ball did not go well,” Martha remarked carefully.
Josephine stiffened. “It did not.”