Chapter 17
Jude sat across from Josephine in the barouche as it rolled smoothly along the street, the rhythmic clatter of hooves filling the silence between them.
He kept his gaze trained on her gloved hands folded neatly on her lap, searching—desperately—for something clever to say. Something light. Something safe.
But polite conversation felt wrong with her. Too shallow. Too impersonal. She wasn’t a stranger or a mere acquaintance. She was Josie. And she deserved something real. He just had no idea how to begin.
Thankfully, Josephine saved him from his own awkwardness.
“Thank you for inviting me to Gunter’s,” she said, her voice soft yet bright with anticipation.
“It was my pleasure,” he replied, tipping his head with what he hoped was charm rather than nerves. “May I comment on how lovely you look today?”
It worked. A true smile blossomed across her face, warm enough to knock the breath from his lungs.
“Thank you, kind sir,” she teased before turning her attention to the rows of elegant buildings rushing by. “I find that I am rather excited for Gunter’s. I do so love their lemon ice.”
He chuckled. “Are you more excited for the lemon ice… or to spend time with me?”
Josephine’s head snapped back towards him, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “You are merely tolerable. But the lemon ice is delicious.”
“Tolerable?” Jude leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “I do believe you find me to be far more than tolerable.”
“And why would you say that?” she challenged, lifting her chin.
“Because you cannot keep your eyes off me,” he said with a smirk.
She let out a playful huff. “That is only because you are sitting directly across from me.”
“Excuses, excuses,” he murmured, loving the light dancing in her eyes. “If I were not an earl, and you were not a lady… do you think our story would have been different?”
“But you are an earl.”
He stiffened, the familiar weight pressing against his ribs. “Don’t remind me.”
Her brow creased with concern. “Did I say something wrong?”
He exhaled, knowing she deserved honesty. “It is not you. I did nothing to earn this title. I was merely born into it. It sits on me like armor—heavy and confining. A role I can never step out of.”
“But think of all the good you can do,” she said.
“What good?” he muttered. “I review accounts. Attend meetings. Debate matters that seem utterly unimportant.”
“To you, perhaps. But others depend on those decisions,” she said. “Men and women who cannot speak for themselves. You have a voice that carries weight.”
He sighed. “I know I must sound ungrateful… but I struggle under all of it.”
“That is why you are doing well,” she said, surprising him.
“How do you figure that?”
She gave him a pointed look. “Lesser men wouldn’t worry about how their choices affect others. But you care. Deeply. That is one of the many things I admire about you.”
“You admire me?” His voice rasped slightly—far more vulnerable than he intended.
“Yes,” she said. “After all, you are my hero.”
Brushing off her praise, he responded, “I only did what my conscience dictated.”
“Precisely. You knew the risks—the implications—of inviting me into your cottage… alone. Yet you still did it.” Her gaze held his without wavering. “I know you will become the kind of man who makes change. The kind who protects those with no voice.”
He stared at her, utterly stunned. “Do you truly believe that?” he asked, half-hopeful, half-afraid to believe it.
“I do,” she responded. “With my whole heart. Because the man you are now is already kind, compassionate, and clever. You didn’t just save my life, Jude… you saved my heart as well.”
“Your heart?” he echoed.
“Yes,” she said. “I had begun to believe there were no good men left in the world. But you restored that faith.”
Jude dragged a hand through his hair, completely undone. “You cannot say such kind things to me and not expect me to reach across this carriage and kiss you.”
She laughed. “Then you will have to restrain yourself because we are nearly at Gunter’s.”
As the carriage slowed, Jude glanced towards the line of elegant barouches and landaus queuing outside Gunter’s. Servers moved briskly from carriage to carriage, silver trays balanced expertly in hand, each bearing bowls of perfectly formed ices beginning to glisten in the afternoon sun.
Their own carriage rolled to a gentle halt. A dark-haired server approached, bowing politely. “Good afternoon. Welcome to Gunter’s. Do you know what you would like?”
“Two lemon ices,” Jude ordered.
“Very good, sir. I will return shortly.” With another bow, the server strode off towards the busy shop.
As soon as the man was out of earshot, Jude shifted his attention back to Josephine, who watched him with an expression still softened from their earlier conversation.
“Now,” he murmured, his lips tilting into a teasing grin, “where were we?”
Josephine tucked a stray curl behind her ear and leaned forward conspiratorially. “My mother and I are plotting to break Alexander’s engagement to Lady Gwendolyn.”
Jude raised a brow. “Are you certain that is wise?”
“I am,” she said, lifting her chin with more conviction than he’d expected. “Lady Gwendolyn is awful. Just… awful.”
He laughed under his breath. “You’ve made your opinions rather clear and I don’t disagree. But your brother believes himself in love with her.”
“And she claims to be in love with him. But her affections are as fickle as the weather.” Josephine pressed her lips together, frustration knitting her brows. “How do we make him see she wants his title, not his heart?”
“That is difficult,” Jude admitted. “Lady Gwendolyn could have a career on the stage if she wished. She had me believing all sorts of nonsense when I first met her.”
Josephine tapped her finger thoughtfully against her lower lip. “How could I get her to reveal her true nature?”
“Are you certain Alexander wishes you to meddle? He may be blissfully unaware.”
“Well,” she shot back, “if we were to go back in time… wouldn’t you have wanted to be warned?”
He didn’t even have to think. “Yes,” he said. “I would have.”
“So how do we go about it?”
Jude shrugged. “I could warn him, but he may not heed a single word I say.”
Before she could reply, an unwelcome shadow fell across the open carriage.
“Good afternoon.”
Jude stiffened instantly. He didn’t need to look to recognize that voice—the slick, oily tone that always made his blood run hot with anger.
Mr. Broderick.
“Go away,” Jude growled, turning to glare at him.
“I would,” Broderick said, “but I have business with Lady Josephine.”
“We have no business,” she snapped.
Broderick’s lips curved in a smug smile. “Ah, but we do, my dear.”
Josephine went rigid. “Do not call me that.”
Jude’s voice sharpened. “Refrain from being so familiar with Lady Josephine, especially in public.”
“But how else would I address my soon-to-be wife?”
Josephine leaned towards him, fury sparking. “I would never marry you.”
“So you say,” Broderick murmured, smile widening. “But soon you won’t have a choice.”
The way Broderick said his words made Jude wary, fearful. “What have you done?” he asked.
Broderick reached as though to touch Josephine’s cheek. She recoiled instantly. His smirk only deepened.
“An article will print tomorrow in The Morning Post,” he said. “It recounts our elopement to Gretna Green that was tragically interrupted by a carriage accident.”
Josephine’s mouth fell open. “That is entirely untrue.” She lowered her voice. “You abducted me and you know it.”
“Did I?” Broderick replied, his eyes gleaming. “Funny… I recall you being quite eager.”
Jude’s jaw clenched. “Dare I ask how The Morning Post learned of this tale?”
“I told them,” Broderick said, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “They were delighted.”
Josephine’s expression twisted with disbelief. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“Is it not obvious?” Broderick asked. “I love you. And I intend to make you my wife.”
“Well, then you will be disappointed,” Josie bit out.
Broderick leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I don’t think so. Once the article prints, who will want you?”
“I will,” Jude said without hesitation, the words bursting from his chest before he could think to soften them.
Broderick turned, amused. “Will you? And what of your dear father?”
“What of him?” Jude asked.
Broderick’s eyes glinted maliciously. “Is he willing to risk his reputation—and his precious bill in Parliament—by allowing his son to marry a scandal-ridden chit? Especially when he is pursuing Lady Redden?”
Jude’s hands balled into fists so tight his knuckles burned. “Leave. Now.”
“Do you speak for Lady Josephine?” Broderick asked.
She lifted her chin. “I speak for myself. Go away.”
Broderick met Jude’s glare one last time. “Enjoy my wife… for now.” Then he whistled a jaunty tune as he sauntered off through the queue of carriages.
The moment he disappeared, Josie exhaled shakily. “That man is vile.”
Jude reached for her hand without thinking, enveloping it tightly in his own. “I will keep you safe.”
Josephine’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “When that article is printed tomorrow, I will be ruined. Everyone will believe I willingly eloped with him. It won’t matter that I was abducted. I was in a carriage alone with him.”
“We will fix this,” Jude vowed. “We will find a way.”
“How?” she whispered.
“I will go to The Morning Post and demand they kill the article—”
She shook her head. “It won’t work.”
“Then I will pay them off,” he said, tightening his grip on her hand. “I will bury it. I will make it disappear. It will work.”
Tears pooled again in her eyes, but she blinked them back fiercely. “I won’t marry Mr. Broderick. But perhaps… perhaps it is best if I retire from London.”
“No.” His voice was sharp, almost panicked. “That is not the solution. You must stay here. With me.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “Don’t you see I must go? It is the only way to protect you.”
He shook his head, his voice rough. “I am an earl. My reputation will survive. Yours matters to me more. Trust me.”
In a soft voice, she said, “I want to go home.”