Chapter 14 #2
Dressed in a pale green gown trimmed with delicate ivory lace, Josephine descended the grand staircase, one hand gliding along the polished banister.
Halfway down, she caught sight of Jude standing with Alexander near the entryway.
Though his posture was impeccable, there was a noticeable tension in his shoulders—a rigidity she had begun, much to her dismay, to recognize far too easily.
It concerned her how instinctively she was learning about him.
Then Jude looked up.
Their gazes collided, and the stiffness in his frame softened in an instant. He smiled—a small, warm thing that unfurled inside her like sunlight spilling into a dim room. For one absurd moment, everything felt… right. Whole.
Completely ridiculous.
She was still angry with him. Or she was supposed to be. Her conviction wavered the longer she stared into his warm, steady brown eyes that somehow managed to steal her breath.
Jude bowed gracefully. “Hello, Lady Josephine.”
She reached the marble floor and dropped into a curtsy.
Alexander, standing between them like some overly pleased deity of meddling older brothers, grinned broadly. “Off you go, then,” he encouraged. “Enjoy your ride.”
Jude stepped forward and offered his arm. “Shall we?”
She placed her gloved hand atop his sleeve, feeling the subtle strength beneath the fine coat, and allowed him to escort her outside to the waiting barouche. Once inside, she settled onto the seat, smoothing her gown. Then she clasped her hands tightly on her lap.
Jude sat across from her, the carriage jolting forward and merging into the busy morning traffic. She lowered her gaze to her intertwined fingers, unsure what she even wanted to say.
Her heart was at war with itself—one side insisting she should scold him thoroughly for deceiving her, the other aching for the easy warmth they once shared.
Jude cleared his throat. “It is… a lovely day we are having.”
The weather. Safe. Predictable. Impersonal.
She lifted her chin. “Surely we can discuss something else—something of more importance.”
There.
She had said it.
He chuckled. “My apologies. I find that I am rather nervous around you.”
Her brows lifted. “Why are you nervous?”
“I am… not entirely certain. I have never been uneasy around young women before.” He offered a helpless smile. “But there is something about you.”
She decided to pry—just a little. “Were you not nervous around Lady Gwendolyn?”
His humor vanished from his expression. “Not particularly, no. She played her act well. She always knew precisely what to say to put me at ease.”
“Why do you say she played a part?”
He shifted, rubbing his thumb along his glove. “I overheard her bragging to some of her friends… boasting that she had ‘ensnared’ me—the heir to a dukedom.”
“Oh.” Josephine’s chest tightened. “I am sorry, Jude.”
“You have no reason to apologize,” he said. “I fancied myself in love with her.”
“Were you?” she prodded.
He shook his head. “No. I think I wanted to be in love with her. She was everything I thought I wanted in a wife.”
She tilted her head. “What do you want in a wife?”
He met her gaze squarely. “Someone who sees me for who I am. Not what I can give them.”
“That is entirely fair.”
Looking down at his hands, he said, “My whole life, I have had to question friendships and wonder if people truly cared for me.”
Her heart stirred with an aching sympathy blooming within her. “That is a sad way to live.”
“It is all I know,” he murmured. “But then you came along. You thought me a gamekeeper, and yet you treated me no differently than how you treated Luca. With kindness. Respect.”
“You did save my life,” she reminded.
He huffed. “It was more than that. I miss our easy friendship—the one we had at the cottage.”
She released a quiet sigh. “I miss it, too. But I do not know if it is possible to return to that.”
“Why not?”
“Well… you are you,” she said, gesturing inelegantly at him, “and I am me.”
He gave a boyish smile. “I happen to like you.”
She made a face. “Be serious.”
“I am,” he insisted. “I want you in my life. And I will take you as you are. Stubborn. Vexing. And all.”
A helpless laugh escaped her. “You are far more vexing than I.”
He lifted his chin with mock pride. “We shall have to agree to disagree.”
She toyed with the strings of her bonnet. “How do you propose we move forward?”
Jude straightened, his eyes earnest. “Well… if this is going to work, you will have to forgive me for lying about being a gamekeeper.”
She inhaled deeply. “I am willing to forgive you. Assuming you never lie to me again.”
He nodded immediately. “I can agree to that.”
A small smile formed on her lips. “Then we are friends once more.”
To her surprise, he frowned. “Yes. Friends,” he muttered, sounding rather put out.
She leaned forward. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” he said quickly, forcing a smile that did not meet his eyes. “I was merely thinking about our kiss last night.”
Josephine’s cheeks flamed. “You should not say such things.”
“Do you not think of it?”
She could lie.
But she found she did not want to.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I have thought of it. It was… quite pleasant.”
A mischievous glint entered his eyes. “I had hoped it was more than pleasant. Perhaps we should try again—properly this time. On the lips?”
Her mouth fell open. “You are being rather scandalous suggesting such a thing.”
“Good,” he murmured, sliding across the seat to sit beside her. “At least one of us is. But truly, I wished to speak with you about something else.”
“Was it about your father and my mother,” she asked, “and how besotted they looked with one another last night?”
“You noticed that, too?”
“I did,” she replied. “It was rather obvious. But what should we do about it?”
Jude’s lips quirked. “What if you and your mother joined us for dinner this evening?”
Josephine pressed her lips together. “But we only just dined last night together. Do you not think that is far too soon? People will talk.”
“Let them,” Jude said with a casual shrug that belied the spark of mischief in his eyes. “If our theory holds true, I suspect your mother and my father won’t mind. Do you?”
“You make a valid point.”
“Wonderful,” Jude declared. “I shall inform the cook that you and your mother will be joining us this evening.”
Josephine nearly laughed—nearly. “Should we not, at the very least, ask them first?”
Jude smirked. “It is better to ask forgiveness than permission.”
“Very well. Dinner it is. For now.”
Jude’s smile faded into something more tender, quieter. “My father has been very lonely since my mother died. He hides it easily enough, but I know the loss has taken a toll on him.”
Josephine’s heart tightened. “My mother, too. She claims she doesn’t need anyone, but… she has seemed so very sad these past months. She tries to be strong for Alexander and me, but…” Her voice faltered.
“I do think that is the price for loving someone so deeply.”
“I think it is rather sweet,” she admitted. “What is life without love?”
Jude stared at her then—really stared—as though searching her face for something hidden beneath her words. “Do you think it is possible that your brother promised you to Mr. Broderick?”
Josephine blinked at him. “Why would you ask such a shocking thing?”
Jude exhaled. “Your uncle came to me this morning. He fears your brother may have had some involvement in your abduction.”
Her stomach knotted. “I am concerned about that, as well,” she confessed, surprising herself with her own bravery. “I overheard a conversation between Mr. Broderick and Alexander last night. Alexander denies giving Mr. Broderick permission to marry me, but…” Her voice wavered. “I have my doubts.”
“Did you speak to your brother?”
“Yes. After Mr. Broderick left. I confronted Alexander, but he dismissed me—and my concerns—as though they were beneath his notice.” She swallowed against the sting that still lingered. “It only made me more suspicious.”
Jude leaned forward slightly. “What exactly did Mr. Broderick say?”
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “He said that Alexander gave me to him.”
Jude went completely still. “And who do you believe—your brother or Mr. Broderick?”
Her shoulders sagged under the weight of truth. “I wish I could say I believed my brother wholeheartedly. But Mr. Broderick was so adamant. So deliberate. As though he truly believed he owned the right.”
“That is precisely what your uncle fears,” Jude responded. “That’s what he expressed when he came to see me.”
“Why did he come speak to you, of all people? He should not have troubled you.”
“I’m glad he did, Josie.” His voice carried a fervent edge that pulled her attention sharply to him.
She turned to face him fully. “There is nothing that you can do to help me. This is my fight.”
Jude covered her hand with his. “I want it to be our fight.”
“You are kind, but—”
He spoke over her, his voice firm. “Marry me.”
She reared back. “I beg your pardon?”
“Marry me,” he repeated, more insistent this time. “If you marry me, I can protect you from Mr. Broderick.”
Ah.
There it was.
Jude did not speak of love. Instead, this proposal was born from danger. From obligation. From a desire to save her—again.
And her heart twisted in a way she was wholly unprepared for.