Chapter 12 #2
She spun towards her mother, who stood near the mantel, her arms loosely folded as she watched them with maddening tranquility. “Mother, tell him he was wrong to interfere in my life.”
Her mother stepped forward. “I am not entirely sure that he was.”
Josephine’s mouth fell open. “How can you say that? You know how I feel about Lord Pendryn.”
“I do,” her mother responded. “But I can also see that you hold him in some affection.”
Josephine closed her eyes against a fresh surge of humiliation. “I did, but it is different now. He has broken my trust.”
Her mother’s expression softened further as she laid a hand on Josephine’s sleeve. “I think it is time you heard him out. Perhaps you two could become friends once more.”
“I doubt that,” Josephine muttered.
“You don’t know unless you try.”
Josephine glanced at the long clock in the corner and saw that it was time to dress for dinner.
Pointing a finger at her brother, Josephine said, “This is low, even for you.”
Alexander only smiled. “You will thank me when you are happily married with a horde of children running about.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I would never marry Lord Pendryn. Not even if he were the last man on earth.”
Alexander’s grin widened. “I daresay you protest far too much.”
“Leave her be, Alexander,” their mother chided lightly.
Josephine turned sharply and swept down the hall towards her bedchamber. Once she arrived, she threw herself face-first onto her bed.
“This is going to be the worst night of my life,” she groaned into the coverlet.
Martha’s voice floated from the doorway. “What was that, my lady?”
“Nothing. Leave me. I wish to die here,” Josephine said miserably. “And after I die, I fully intend to haunt my brother.”
Martha stepped farther into the room. “Did something happen?”
Josephine sat up with a dramatic sigh. “Yes! Lord Pendryn is coming to dinner.”
“Do we hate him?” Martha asked at once. “Say the word, and I will hate him with my whole being.”
A reluctant laugh escaped Josephine. “No, I don’t hate him. But I cannot abide him at present.”
“Dare I ask what he has done to earn your ire?”
Josephine hesitated. She trusted Martha more than most, but even so… the truth sounded ridiculous when spoken aloud.
“Lord Pendryn made me believe he was the gamekeeper for the Duke of Ashmoore,” she admitted slowly.
Martha stared back at her. “The one who saved you from wandering the woods after the carriage accident?”
“Yes, the very same one.”
Martha made a sympathetic clicking noise with her tongue. “I see. And you discovered the truth last night at the ball?”
Josephine nodded. “I did. And I was mortified. How does one mistake an earl for a gamekeeper?”
“You had just suffered a traumatic ordeal,” Martha said matter-of-factly. “Abducted by Mr. Broderick, a carriage accident… anyone would be unsettled.”
“I should have known.”
Martha moved to sit beside her. “It sounds romantic, if you ask me. A humble gamekeeper saves a young woman from certain doom, only to reveal he’s truly a rich, powerful earl.”
“It was hardly romantic,” Josephine declared.
“But you can see how it could be.” Martha grinned. “Every young lady wants to be saved by an earl.”
“Not me.”
“Well,” Martha said, rising briskly, “whether you wish it or not, we must dress you or you will be late.”
Josephine glanced towards the window. “What if I climbed out the window and ran far, far away?”
“And where would you go?”
She sighed heavily. “I don’t know.”
“Exactly.” Martha opened the wardrobe and retrieved a pale blue gown with a white net overlay. “If you want my sympathy, you do not have it. I heard the Duke of Ashmoore is also coming.”
“That makes it worse. Now I must be on my best behavior.”
“Come, my lady. Let us dress you for battle.”
After her hair was piled elegantly atop her head, Josephine left her bedchamber dressed in her blue gown. She drew a steadying breath as she headed towards the entry hall.
Just before turning the corner, she heard a voice and came to an abrupt stop.
His voice.
Jude.
Her heart gave a treacherous flutter, but she ruthlessly ignored it. She would not allow her emotions to dictate her life.
Lifting her chin, Josephine turned the corner.
There, speaking to her mother, stood Jude and the Duke of Ashmoore himself. But what caught Josephine’s attention most was not Jude, but her mother.
Her mother was staring at the duke… with interest. Genuine interest.
Well. That was unexpected.
Jude saw her first. His gaze lifted, and his lips parted slightly as he watched her descend the stairs. She hoped—desperately—that she would not trip on her hem and go tumbling into disgrace.
When she reached the final step, Jude gave a polished bow. “My lady.”
She curtsied, knowing what was expected of her. “My lord.”
The duke smiled warmly at her. “You have grown into a beautiful young woman.”
Josephine returned the smile, though her nerves danced wildly beneath her skin. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“I am not at all surprised,” the duke said, turning his attention to her mother with a look far too admiring. “Considering how lovely your mother is.”
Her mother flushed—actually flushed. “That is most kind of you to say,” she replied.
“It is merely the truth,” he continued.
Josephine blinked, then blinked again. She had never seen her mother react so to a gentleman.
And Jude—Jude was watching the exchange like a hawk, as though trying to determine what on earth was happening.
Alexander’s voice cut through the corridor. “Your Grace. Pendryn.”
Jude inclined his head politely. “Redden.”
But Alexander barely acknowledged him. His attention was fixed entirely on the Duke of Ashmoore. “We are so pleased you decided to join us this evening.”
The duke tipped his head with easy grace. “Thank you for allowing me to accompany Jude.”
“I was hoping,” Alexander said, crossing his arms and leaning in as though he were about to discuss some grand piece of Parliament gossip, “to inquire how you intend to vote on the Housing Bill.”
Of course. Politics. It was all Alexander ever wanted to talk about.
Taking advantage of her brother’s distraction, Jude moved to Josephine’s side, lowering his voice. “How are you faring?” he asked.
“I am well,” she answered shortly. Too shortly. She regretted it instantly, but she refused to soften. She had to keep her guard up and show him that his presence didn’t unsteady her.
Jude didn’t appear offended. “Did you like all the flowers I sent you?”
Her spine stiffened. “I thought it was a bit pretentious.”
“I wasn’t sure what your favorite flower was, so I… bought out the shop.” His voice gentled. “I wanted you to know how sor—”
She turned sharply to face him, speaking in a barely audible whisper. “This is not the time to discuss such things.”
“When is?” His eyes—those warm, steady eyes—searched hers.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, hating how small the truth sounded.
His jaw tightened, then he leaned closer. “Will you go on a carriage ride with me tomorrow?”
She scoffed, scandalized. “Absolutely not!”
“Please, Josie…” His voice dropped, soft and pleading. “You must give me a chance to explain.”
Blast him. Blast him for using the name she’d allowed him in a moment of weakness.
Blast her heart for fluttering like a foolish creature inside her chest.
Perhaps she was tired.
Perhaps she pitied him.
Perhaps she was a hopeless, ridiculous person.
But the words slipped out anyway. “Very well,” she said.
Jude’s entire face lit up. Not a smile—no, something brighter. Something dangerously hopeful. “Thank you.”
“But that doesn’t mean we are friends again,” she warned.
“Of course not,” he said quickly. “Naturally not.” Then he leaned closer to her. “But perhaps we could put our differences aside long enough to address what is going on between my father and your mother.”
Josephine’s brows lifted. “You noticed it, too?”
“I haven’t seen my father this animated since my mother died.”
“I feel the same about my mother.”
They both glanced towards the duke speaking to Lady Redden—who was smiling. Actually smiling. And blushing. Josephine hardly knew what to make of it.
Alexander cleared his throat sharply.
Only then did Josephine realize just how close she had drifted towards Jude. Her shoulder brushed his sleeve. Her cheeks flamed as she stepped aside, staring determinedly at a nearby vase.
“Shall we adjourn to the dining room?” Alexander asked.
“I would like that,” Josephine said, grateful she’d found her voice again.
Jude offered his arm.
She stared at it. Duty warred violently with annoyance. She did not want to accept it. She wanted to pretend she was unmoved. She wanted—
“I am merely offering to be a gentleman,” Jude said, a lazy, maddening smile touching his lips.
Her entire family was watching. She had no choice.
Josephine placed her gloved hand on his arm and allowed him to escort her to the dining room… even as her mind and heart waged a silent, hopeless war.