Chapter 17 #2
“Josie…”
“Please,” she pressed, slipping her hand out of his.
He sank back in his seat. “Very well,” he murmured, though every part of him rebelled against the words. “I will take you home.”
Josephine sat rigidly in the carriage, staring at her clasped hands until her vision blurred.
She willed herself not to cry. She had done enough of that already.
The leather seat beneath her felt cold, too cold, and every bump of the wheels rattled straight through her bones.
Across from her, Jude watched her with that steady, unyielding concern in his brown eyes.
He wanted to help her. To save her. She knew it as surely as she knew her own name.
But she would not let him destroy his life for hers.
When that article was published, she would be ruined. She would be given the cut direct. Her reputation would be shredded beyond repair. And not even the shield of his title could stop the whispers… the looks… the judgment.
She loved him too much to let him be dragged down beside her.
She was so lost in the spiral of her own thoughts that Jude’s voice startled her.
“I will get a special license,” he said, leaning forward, his tone decisive—almost fierce. “We could be married this evening.”
Her heart plunged. “And then what?” she whispered.
“Then we would ride out the storm… together.”
Josephine shook her head, fighting the tightening in her throat. “Don’t you understand? If we marry now, and I were to start increasing…” She swallowed. “Everyone would question the child’s parentage. They would assume—”
Jude’s gaze softened, but his jaw remained tense. “I would never question it.”
She gave him a weak smile. “I know that. But what happens when I am given the cut direct? When women you’ve known your whole life turn their backs on me in public?”
“I would not stand by and let that happen,” he said firmly.
“You wouldn’t be able to stop it.”
His fists tightened on his knees. “My father is a duke. I am an earl. No one would dare be rude to you.”
Josephine let out a shaky huff. “Oh, Jude… what about the rumors?” she asked. “You can’t stop those. No one can.”
“Josie…” His voice cracked. “There must be a way for us to be together.”
Her gaze dropped to her hands. “I can’t ask you to save me again,” she insisted.
“Then don’t ask. I will do it gladly.”
Her throat constricted. “For what purpose? So you can enter into a marriage of convenience?”
His eyes flashed with something wounded. “Is that what you think I am offering?”
She finally lifted her chin, meeting his gaze. “Isn’t it?”
“No.” The word burst out of him. “I… care for you. Greatly.”
There it was. The truth she had been dreading. Jude cared for her—of course he did. He was honorable, noble, unfailingly protective. But this wasn’t love. Not the love she wanted. Not the love she needed him to have.
And he had a future. Politics. Influence. A life that did not deserve to be shackled to her scandal.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I won’t marry you.”
Jude’s face shuttered, his wounded pride flaring. “You would choose ruination over me?”
“No,” she breathed. “I choose you over ruination.”
Confusion etched his features. “I don’t understand.”
Josephine leaned forward, imploring him. “I could marry you and it would be easier. But it wouldn’t be fair to you. You deserve a wife without scandal. The perfect countess.”
“Is that what you think I need?” he demanded.
“I do.”
He slid forward on the bench, closing the distance between them. His voice lowered, intense. “I do not want the perfect countess, Josie. I want you.”
Her heart clenched. “You say that now—”
“Just marry me,” he said, his voice rising with desperation. “Why are you making this so difficult?”
“I am not trying to be difficult.”
He scoffed in disbelief. “Your actions suggest otherwise. I am an earl, for heaven’s sake. Most women would love to marry me.”
Her back went rigid. “Yes, they would. Why don’t you go find one of them to marry and stop pestering me?”
His eyes widened, but before he could reply, the carriage lurched to a stop in front of her townhouse.
Josephine realized then just how close they had drifted when his breath ghosted across her cheek. Their faces mere inches apart. Too close. Far too close for what she needed to do.
“You are being utterly stubborn,” he said.
“As are you,” she returned, forcing her voice steady. “At least I am being sensible about this.”
His brows shot up. “You, sensible?”
Before she could retort, a liveried footman approached, placing the step and opening the door. “My lady,” he said, offering his hand.
Josephine drew herself up. “Goodbye, Jude.”
“This isn’t goodbye,” he asserted. “You will eventually agree to marry me.”
She refused to let her expression crack. Instead, she slipped her hand into the footman’s and allowed him to help her down. She didn’t look back.
She couldn’t.
Her spine stiffened as she walked up the steps. Dupree waited with the door open. He shut it behind her with a decisive thud.
And then everything inside her shattered.
“Mother!” Josephine cried, her voice echoing through the entry hall.
A moment later, Lady Redden rushed from the drawing room, alarm etched across her face. “What is the matter?”
Josephine let out a wrenching sob. “I am ruined!”
Her mother darted forward, gripping her arms. “What happened?”
“Mr. Broderick said an article will be printed tomorrow,” Josephine choked out, “claiming I tried to elope with him to Gretna Green.”
Her mother’s eyes widened with fury. “What? He abducted you!”
“I know,” Josephine cried. “But he told The Morning Post that I went willingly. I am ruined.”