Chapter 15
Jude watched the way Josephine’s spine stiffened. He knew he had taken her by surprise with his offer. Still, he had confidence in her. She was sensible, thoughtful. She would understand once she thought it through.
All she needed to do was say—
“No.”
The single syllable hit him square in the chest.
He stared back at her. “Pardon?”
She didn’t look away. Didn’t waver. “My answer is no. Emphatically no.”
For a moment, Jude forgot how to breathe. “But… why?” he managed. “Surely you see that it is the sensible thing to do.”
“Yes, it is the sensible thing,” she agreed. “But I don’t want to do the sensible thing. I want love, Jude. The kind of love our parents had.”
His throat tightened at the mention of his parents. That kind of love felt… impossible. Far too large to promise.
Jude pressed his lips together. “Perhaps if you take some time to think about it—”
She shook her head sharply, cutting him off. “My answer will still be no. I know you think you are doing the honorable thing, but I won’t trap you in a marriage you don’t want either.”
“That isn’t fair…” he started.
Josephine leveled him with a look that stripped away every excuse. “Do you want this marriage?”
“I… uh…” He faltered, searching for words that didn’t exist. “I don’t not want it.”
She huffed. “That isn’t an answer.” She intertwined her fingers with his, her touch warm and familiar. “You are my hero. But it is time for me to save myself now.”
He tightened his grip, panic nudging into his ribs. “I can keep you safe from Mr. Broderick.”
“At what cost?” Her voice was heartbreakingly calm. “You marry me and grow to resent me in a few years.”
“I could never resent you.”
Tears shone in her eyes, but she blinked rapidly, as if refusing to let them fall. Something in his chest twisted painfully. She was trying to be brave. Whether for his sake or hers, he couldn’t tell.
“You are a good man,” she whispered. “But I can’t marry you.”
“Because you don’t love me?” he asked, unable to stop himself.
“Because I could.”
The admission stunned him. His brows shot up. “I don’t understand.”
She drew a shaky breath. “I care for you, and I fear that one day I will fall desperately, hopelessly in love with you. But what if you don’t feel the same? That would be endless torment. To pine after one’s own husband every single day, knowing you will never be enough for him.”
“How do you know I couldn’t fall in love with you?”
She looked at him with raw vulnerability. “Could you?”
He hesitated. And that hesitation—curse it—was answer enough.
A sad, resigned smile curved her lips. “And that is my answer.”
When a tear escaped down her cheek, Jude lifted his hand and brushed it away, his thumb lingering against her soft skin.
“I would be a good husband to you,” he murmured. “You would have everything your heart desired.”
“Just not love.”
“Josie… I…”
She held up her hand, silencing him without harshness. “You don’t have to say anything. I truly appreciate your offer. But we both deserve better.”
He let out a frustrated breath. “What will I tell your uncle?”
“The truth,” she said. “That I turned down your offer.”
Jude dragged a hand through his hair, wishing he could shake sense into himself—or into her. “I could make you a duchess.”
“I never cared for such things.”
“I know,” he replied. “That’s why you’re special. You wouldn’t marry me for a title. You’d marry me for me.”
She slipped her hand from his. “One day, you will find someone you can’t live without,” she said. “Now, we must be on our best behavior. We’ve arrived at Hyde Park.”
He glanced out. Indeed, they were rolling down Rotten Row, their carriage drawing far more attention than he liked. Heads turned. Parasols shifted. Fans fluttered. He had known bringing her here would spark gossip… but for the first time in his life, he didn’t care one whit about the ton.
He just wanted Josephine.
She reached into her reticule and withdrew a small handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes. “Do I look as if I’ve been crying?”
He noticed the faint redness, the shimmer of leftover tears. But lying felt kinder. “No, you cannot tell.”
She gave a watery laugh. “You are a terrible liar.”
“You could tell?”
“Of course.” She sniffed delicately. “I have noticed many things about you. Far more than I should.”
He couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his mouth. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” she said, tilting her head towards the bustling row. “There are many people here today, are there not?”
“Yes,” he answered dryly. “And I suspect we’ll be in the Society page tomorrow.”
Her eyes brightened with girlish excitement. “How thrilling. I’ve never been mentioned in the Society page before.”
“It is not as exciting as you think,” he muttered. “Being the subject of gossip is tedious.”
“Perhaps we could write our own Society page. We could call it Jude’s Tattler.”
He barked a laugh. “That is an awful name.”
Josephine continued unperturbed. “We would fill it with the most mundane anecdotes and tattle on everyone who vexes us.”
“No one would read it.”
She grinned. “Do not be a naysayer. Your sister-in-law writes for the newssheets, and the ton praises her immensely.”
“Yes, but those are serious articles.”
“We could write serious articles, too,” Josephine insisted. “We could compare the flavors of ice at Gunter’s. It would be quite the exposé.”
“That is hardly an exposé.”
Before she could respond, a smooth voice cut in.
“Fine day we are having.”
Jude turned. And his entire body went cold.
Mr. Broderick. Perched on his horse like a crow over a carcass, his eyes glinting with malice.
Josephine didn’t bother with politeness. “What do you want, Mr. Broderick?”
“Nothing but the pleasure of your company.”
“Move on,” Jude snapped. “You are not welcome here.”
Broderick’s lips curled. “I came to speak to Lady Josephine.”
Josephine lifted her chin. “I have no desire to speak to you.”
“That is a shame,” Broderick drawled. “Since we shall be wed soon enough.”
“I would rather marry a pig dressed in your clothing,” Josephine shot back.
Broderick chuckled. “That is oddly specific, my dear.”
She bristled. “Do not call me that.”
Turning his head, Broderick said, “We appear to have an audience.”
Jude’s hands clenched into fists. “Leave us. And never bother Lady Josephine again.”
“That would be an issue,” Broderick started, “considering she was promised to me.”
“By whom?” Josephine demanded.
“By whom is irrelevant. But your coyness is delightful. I am rather enjoying this game that we are playing.”
Josephine leaned forward, fire in her gaze. “This is not a game. And I am not playing coy.”
Broderick smiled as if she amused him. “Are you considering what might have happened if the coach hadn’t overturned? We would be happily married by now.”
“I would still have thrown myself from the coach,” she declared.
“Ah, that was merely nerves.”
“You abducted me at gunpoint!” she exclaimed.
Broderick clucked his tongue. “Lower your voice, my dear, or someone might overhear.”
“I will never marry you,” Josephine asserted.
“Promises, promises.” He tipped his hat mockingly. “Enjoy the rest of your ride.” He trotted away.
“Audacious man,” Josephine muttered.
Jude turned to her, his heart pounding with urgency. “Now do you see why we must marry?”
She met his eyes, gentle but immovable. “I know you mean well, but you don’t want this marriage any more than I do.”
“That isn’t true,” Jude insisted. “We could make it work.”
“I don’t want to make it work. I want love. A partner. A lifetime.”
He exhaled heavily. “But what of Mr. Broderick?”
“What of him?” she asked. “I carry your mother’s muff pistol in my reticule. I will be prepared—if he comes again.”
He snorted. “But I have seen you shoot. It is not very impressive.”
She laughed, just as he had intended. “But Mr. Broderick doesn’t know that. Besides, I shall make my one shot count.”
He slumped back slightly. “I just want to ensure you are safe.”
Josephine’s smile softened. And in that moment, Jude knew that he wanted to see that smile every day of his life.
“I know. And that is why you are the best of men,” she said.
“Is there no way I can convince you to marry me?”
Her smile flickered, dimming. “Jude… you are making this nearly impossible. But in my heart, I know I must say no.”
He could hear the tremor beneath her resolve. She was wavering. And Jude knew he had to convince her. Not just out of duty. Not just to protect her. But because she was the first woman who didn’t care about his title… only him.
The carriage picked up speed.
“It appears we are leaving Hyde Park,” he noted.
“Good,” she sighed. “What were we thinking going during the fashionable hour? Everyone was staring.”
“They were merely admiring how beautiful you are.”
She shot him a look. “You are resorting to flattery now?”
“Is it working?”
Her smile returned. “It just might.”
Josephine studied her reflection in the looking glass, tilting her head slightly as the candlelight caught the diamond bandeau nestled in her blonde hair. She allowed herself a small smile, knowing she had taken extra time on her person this evening for Jude.
“Do you like it?” Martha asked from behind her.
“I do.” Josephine smoothed her palms over the rich blue silk of her gown. “I believe you may have outdone yourself this evening.”
Martha beamed and reached for the long white gloves lying on the dressing table. “I want tonight to be perfect.” She handed them over with exaggerated care.
Josephine raised a brow as she slid the gloves on. “And why is that?”
Martha gave her a pointed look. “No reason at all—other than you will see the very handsome Lord Pendryn.”
“How do you know he is handsome?”
“I may have seen a glimpse of him when he collected you for your carriage ride this afternoon,” Martha admitted with a smile. “Do you deny he is handsome?”
Josephine shrugged, though warmth crept up her neck. “He is not entirely unfortunate to look upon.”
“Such high praise, my lady!”
Josephine suppressed a laugh as the door flew open.
Her mother swept in, worry etched into every line of her face. “This is a mistake.”