Chapter 16
Jude watched from across the table as Josephine competed in a lively round of whist. She held her cards too close to her face—an earnest habit he found utterly endearing—and each time she laid one down, she laughed at something someone said.
Her laughter was soft but bright, like a hearth crackling back to life.
He couldn’t help smiling. She calmed him—truly calmed him—in a way he had not known was possible. One glance at her and every jagged edge inside him eased.
He’d once believed himself broken beyond repair. But she… she had put him back together, piece by unexpected piece.
And then the realization hit him, sudden and absolute.
He didn’t want to marry her because of duty.
Or obligation.
Or even to protect her.
He wanted to marry her because he had fallen helplessly, irrevocably in love with her. Now he only needed to convince her of that truth. Carefully. Patiently. Without frightening her away.
Luca nudged his elbow under the table. “You are staring,” he murmured.
Jude snapped his gaze down to his cards. “My apologies. I was woolgathering.”
“I can guess about who, Brother,” Luca whispered. “But do try not to be so blatant about it.”
Jude cleared his throat, heat prickling the back of his neck. “I find I no longer want to play cards.”
“That is perfectly acceptable,” Luca declared far too loudly, tossing his cards onto the table. “Since I was losing.” He looked around. “Jude has called the game.”
Jude rose, his attention already drawn back to Josephine. “Would you care to take a turn about the room with me?”
Her smile warmed him from the inside out. “I would be happy to.”
He crossed to her, offered his hand, and when she placed her gloved fingers in his, he tucked her arm securely into the crook of his. The contact steadied him and unsettled him all at once. They began a slow stroll around the parlor, passing portraits and bookcases and the flicker of the fire.
He was scrambling for something—anything—to say. And failing miserably.
Thankfully, she saved him.
“Lady Gwendolyn sends her regards,” she said, her tone unmistakably teasing.
“Wonderful,” he muttered, wishing the floorboards would swallow the very mention of that woman. Gwendolyn was the past, and Josephine was his future.
“My brother offered for her,” Josie went on, “and she accepted. I confess myself disappointed. I would rather have had Alexander marry a rock.”
“A… rock?”
“They share the same amount of brain space.” She said it primly, as if delivering a scholarly observation.
He chuckled. “That is dreadful.”
“It is also true,” she added. “My mother says I should be kinder, but I am not overly fond of Lady Gwendolyn. In fact, knowing you once fancied her almost makes me want to hate you.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
“I hope you have moved past that urge.”
“I have,” she said graciously. “Now I tolerate you.”
He pressed his free hand to his heart. “Your approval overwhelms me, Josie. Truly.”
“I do not doubt it,” she replied, surveying the parlor. “This is a lovely home.”
“Honestly,” he admitted, “I prefer the cottage to this townhouse or even Ashmoore Hall. It is the only place I can think clearly.”
“And eat rabbit stew.”
He grinned. “I recall no complaints when you were famished.”
“That is because I was wise enough not to insult the man who was feeding me,” she countered. “But the stew was awful.”
Jude gasped dramatically. “You wound me.”
“You will live,” she said lightly.
He glanced down at her, his voice quieter. “If you had to choose one of my residences to live in, which would you prefer?”
She considered, her lips puckering adorably. “The cottage,” she said at last. “It is where I met you.”
The words struck him like an arrow—swift, precise, impossibly hopeful.
He sobered. “Do you think we would have met otherwise? If not for the carriage accident?”
“I am not certain,” she replied. “Do you spend most of your time in libraries?”
“I have read a book or two,” he said dryly.
She laughed. “Well, I like to imagine fate conspired against us so that we would cross paths.”
He swallowed, his heart full. “I like that sentiment, as well.”
Their steps slowed. Their conversation faded. Their eyes met—hers blue and bright, his undoubtedly far too earnest—and for a moment, the world narrowed to the space between them.
This.
This was what he wanted for the rest of his life.
She dropped her gaze, her cheeks blooming pink. He realized he had been staring again—quite shamelessly.
But he didn’t regret it.
Not for a single heartbeat.
The long clock in the corner chimed midnight—twelve slow, resonant strokes that echoed through the quiet parlor. Josephine gently slipped her hand from his arm.
“It is late,” she said softly.
“It is,” he echoed.
Brilliant, Jude. Truly inspired.
Was he incapable of forming a coherent sentence in her presence?
She turned towards her mother, who still sat beside the duke at the card table. “Shall we, Mother?”
Lady Redden nodded, and the duke immediately rose, offering his arm with courtly precision. “Allow me, my lady.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Lady Redden murmured, taking his assistance.
Jude stepped forward and gestured towards the entry hall. “At least permit us to escort you to your carriage. We would be poor hosts indeed if we let you wander off into the night unattended.”
“That would be lovely,” Josie said.
They began walking towards the front hall. Jude matched his pace to hers, aware of every brush of fabric, every soft breath she took. He did not want the evening to end.
And then, because his nerves demanded he say something, he blurted, “Do you… like Gunter’s?”
Josephine arched a brow. “I do.”
“Would you allow me to take you there tomorrow?” Jude asked, trying not to sound as hopeful as he felt.
A small, mischievous smile tugged at her lips. “I would like that. Though I must confess… I am not entirely certain which I prefer more—you or lemon ice.”
He pressed a hand to his chest. “A grave competition, indeed. But I am confident I shall triumph over Gunter’s.”
“Oh?” she asked. “And why is that?”
He leaned a fraction closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “Because when I eventually kiss you… truly kiss you… you will swoon.”
Her head tilted, blue eyes gleaming with challenge. “You sound rather sure of yourself. What makes you think I will ever allow you to kiss me?”
His gaze dipped to her lips. “I do not think you will allow it,” he murmured. “I know you will.”
Her breath caught. A soft inhale—barely audible, impossibly intoxicating.
“And how do you know that?” she whispered.
He lifted his eyes to hers, letting her see every truth he’d been holding close. “Because, Josie… you look at me as though you already want me to.”
Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she quickly faced forward again, but he didn’t miss the slight tremble in her exhale.
The knowledge warmed him—dangerous, thrilling, hopeful.
He walked beside her towards the carriage, feeling as though the ground beneath him had shifted. And for the first time in a long while…
He welcomed it.
Once the carriage rolled down the street and disappeared into the night, Jude turned back towards the townhouse, matching his father’s slow stride. Neither of them spoke.
They entered the drawing room, where Luca sat on the settee with Charlotte curled comfortably at his side. Luca’s grin formed the instant he saw Jude.
“Well,” Luca drawled, “that was rather telling.”
Jude tugged off his gloves. “What was?”
“Your interaction with Josephine,” Luca said, sliding an arm more snugly around Charlotte’s waist. Then he shifted his gaze towards their father. “And your interaction with Lady Redden, Father. The real question is: who among you will be married first?”
The duke let out a low huff. “And that is my cue to retire.” He turned to leave.
“Father—wait,” Luca said, rising. “I do not say it merely to tease you. But surely you must recognize what is right in front of you.”
The duke stiffened. “And what is that, precisely?”
“A chance at happiness again,” Luca replied gently, his expression soft rather than mocking.
Something flickered across the duke’s face—something unguarded, vulnerable—but it vanished almost instantly. He inclined his head. “Goodnight, boys. Charlotte.”
Jude watched him go, a heaviness tightening in his chest. He wanted happiness for his father. But he also knew the older man was wrapped in memories he feared letting go of.
Behind him, Luca said, “He’s stubborn, but I do believe he’ll come around.”
Jude turned back to face his brother and sister-in-law. “As do I.”
“And you?” Luca asked, folding his arms. “Have you come around regarding Josephine?”
Jude hesitated only for a moment. If he couldn’t tell Luca the truth, who could he tell? “I have. In fact…” He exhaled. “I offered for her earlier today. During our carriage ride.”
Charlotte straightened, her eyes going wide with excitement. “You offered for her? Why on earth didn’t you say anything when you returned? We could have celebrated!”
“Because,” Jude said, “she said no.”
“She said no?” Charlotte asked, her brow furrowed.
He inclined his head once.
To Jude’s surprise—and mild irritation—Luca burst into laughter. “Who would have imagined a young woman turning you down? Women have been tripping over themselves for years trying to capture your regard.”
“Apparently,” Jude muttered, “I have stumbled across the one woman immune to my charms.”
Luca sobered slightly, studying him. “What do you intend to do about it?”
Jude didn’t need to think. He already knew the answer. “I have no intention of letting her go. If that is what you are asking.”
“Good,” Luca said. “But do try to marry her before Father marries. I have five pounds riding on it.”
“You bet on it?” Jude asked.
Charlotte raised a hand. “I couldn’t pass up such a sure bet.”
“You two are impossible,” Jude muttered, though a reluctant smile tugged at his mouth as he started for the doorway.
Behind him, Luca called, “Goodnight, Brother.”
“Goodnight, Luca,” Jude said without turning.