Chapter 18
Jude sat in the shadowed corner of White’s, his untouched drink resting on the small polished table. The hum of the club did nothing to dull the storm inside his chest. Frustration churned beneath his ribs. Anger, sharp and cold, followed close behind.
He had finally found the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and she had refused him.
Refused him.
He, Jude Dexter—heir to a dukedom, a man who’d been chased, flattered, and all but thrown at by ambitious debutantes for years—had been turned away without hesitation. And the worst part? Her rejection had nothing to do with his rank… which was precisely why he couldn’t, wouldn’t, lose her.
A jovial voice broke through his dark thoughts.
“Why do you look like death, my friend?”
Jude didn’t bother looking up. “What do you want, Rupert?”
“Nothing but the pleasure of your company,” Lord Rupert drawled, helping himself to a chair across from him. “And perhaps the story behind that murderous expression. I take it this has something to do with the lovely Lady Josephine?”
“Go away.”
Rupert chuckled, utterly unbothered. “Ah. Then I have indeed struck a nerve. Which means I am correct.”
Jude lifted his glass and took a long swallow, refusing to answer.
Rupert steepled his fingers on the table. “Well? Why are you hiding in the back of White’s like a wounded animal?”
Jude decided honesty was easier than continued evasion. “I can’t convince Josie to marry me.”
Rupert’s grin widened—infuriatingly. “I can see why that wounds you so deeply. Women have chased you for as long as I’ve known you. You’ve never had to do the chasing before.”
“You are not helping.”
“Was I supposed to help?” Rupert joked.
Jude set his glass down with a thud. “You don’t understand.”
“But I do.” Rupert leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I may be the youngest son of a marquess, but I’m not lacking in female attention. I simply don’t want any of the women who want me.”
Jude raised a brow. “I thought one had caught your eye.”
“She did. And she wants absolutely nothing to do with me.”
A humorless huff escaped Jude. “So you do understand.”
“Yes,” Rupert admitted. “But I am not in love with this girl… not as you are with Lady Josephine.”
Jude’s eyes slipped shut. Just the truth of it—spoken aloud—made his chest tighten. “I do love her. With my whole blasted heart.”
“And she still turned you down?”
He shifted in his chair. “I didn’t tell her that.”
Rupert stared at him, incredulous. “What did you tell her, then?”
“That I cared greatly for her,” Jude muttered.
Rupert slumped back in his chair with theatrical disbelief. “Yes, I can see why she didn’t swoon over that declaration.”
“Do be serious.”
“I am,” Rupert said. “Why didn’t you tell her that you loved her? That you can’t live without her? That your heart beats only for her?”
Jude rubbed his jaw. “Because what if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I push too hard and lose her altogether?”
“When you love a woman,” Rupert said, “you owe it to her—and yourself—to be honest.”
Jude shook his head. “I thought I loved Lady Gwendolyn once, but I was wrong—”
Rupert cut him off. “Lady Josephine is nothing like Lady Gwendolyn. Frankly, I don’t know what you ever saw in that shrew besides her beauty.”
“She pales in comparison to Josie.”
A satisfied smile tugged at Rupert’s mouth. “We agree completely.”
“But none of this matters anymore,” Jude said bleakly. “The Morning Post is printing an article tomorrow about Mr. Broderick’s supposed elopement with Josie.”
Rupert straightened. “I thought he abducted her?”
“He did. But he’s told an elaborate tale to the newssheets. He’s trying to force her hand to marry him.”
Rupert’s jaw clenched. “What are you going to do?”
“I went to the editor myself. He refused to bury the article. I even offered him an obscene amount of money.”
“And that didn’t sway him?”
“Not even a little.”
Rupert considered him for a long moment. “Let me go speak to him. I have ways of being more persuasive.”
Jude let out a weary breath. “Be my guest, but it won’t help.”
“You are being a pessimist.”
“No. I am being pragmatic,” Jude countered. “I want to marry Josie before the scandal hits—to protect her with my name. But she has this misguided notion that she must protect me instead.”
Rupert nodded his understanding. “That does explain her refusal. She is doing the honorable thing, just as you are.”
“She doesn’t understand that I don’t give a whit about my reputation. I only want her.”
“Because you love her,” Rupert prodded.
“Yes, you idiot.”
Rupert tsked. “Resorting to insults now? You must truly be in despair.”
Before Jude could answer, a familiar voice sounded near the table.
“I have bad news.”
Jude looked up sharply. “I assumed as much.”
Luca sank into the chair beside him, rubbing the back of his neck. “I tried to convince The Morning Post to withdraw the article. They refused.”
“I had the same experience,” Jude remarked. “It is hopeless.”
Rupert rose from his seat. “And now it is my turn.”
Jude lifted his gaze. “Don’t waste your time.”
With a smirk, Rupert said, “My dear fellow, you forget that I argue for a living.”
“Yes, as a barrister,” Jude said. “But we don’t need a barrister. We need a miracle.”
“Then a miracle is precisely what I shall procure,” Rupert declared before striding towards the main doors.
Jude watched him go, shaking his head. “He is too blasted confident.”
Luca chuckled. “He’s earned that confidence. And, fortunately for us, he tends to be very… effective in a pinch.”
Jude reached for his glass and took a slow sip, wishing it did something to numb the ache in his chest. “It won’t matter,” he said. “When Father hears about the scandal, he will demand I distance myself from Josie. Duty over love. Isn’t that what we were taught?”
Luca leaned back in his chair, studying him. “Father might surprise you.”
Jude barked out a humorless laugh. “He is trying to pass his bill through Parliament. Now is not exactly the time to have half the Lords whispering about his son being entangled in some sensational elopement scandal.”
A server passed by, placing another drink in front of Jude. Without hesitation, Luca plucked it away before Jude could reach for it.
“I daresay you’ve had enough,” Luca said firmly.
Jude didn’t bother arguing. His brother was right. But the only thing he wanted was to drink until the entire day dissolved into nothing.
Luca leaned in, lowering his voice. “I remember being where you are now. I thought I was too late. Thought I’d ruined my chance with Charlotte for good.”
Jude lifted his gaze, weary. “What happened?”
“Fate intervened,” Luca said with a faint, reminiscent smile. “But that didn’t mean I stopped fighting. If anything, I fought harder.”
Jude scoffed. “Josie wants to leave London to avoid the scandal.”
“That is… not the worst idea.”
“Perhaps,” Jude conceded, his voice rough. “But I cannot imagine not seeing her every day. Her smile buoys me up when everything else feels as if it’s falling apart.”
Luca rose and clapped a hand onto Jude’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you home and maybe into a bath before you start smelling like the bottom of a brandy barrel.”
Jude pushed to his feet, swaying only slightly. “This is what I get,” he muttered, “for falling in love.”
They made it only a few steps before a voice sliced through the din of White’s.
“Pendryn.”
The single word hit Jude like a spark to powder.
His blood ignited.
He turned sharply, every muscle tightening. Mr. Broderick lounged at a table near the entrance, a smug smile lifting one corner of his mouth as he swirled the drink in his hand.
Jude didn’t remember deciding to move, but he took a step forward, ready to smash that smugness right off his face.
Luca immediately stepped in front of him, planting a firm hand on his chest. “He is not worth it,” his brother warned under his breath.
Mr. Broderick rose leisurely, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve. “Listen to your brother, my lord,” he mocked.
Jude’s vision tunneled. His pulse roared. “I should challenge you to a duel,” he growled.
Broderick didn’t so much as flinch. “Name the time and place.”
“Tomorrow morning,” Jude snapped. “Dawn. St. James’s Park.”
Luca interrupted. “No! There will be no duel.” Then, even lower, only for Jude’s ears, “Are you completely mad?”
“I want to shoot him,” Jude said, his gaze locked on Broderick.
The man had the audacity to chuckle. “The feeling is quite mutual.”
Luca gestured sharply towards the door. “It is time to leave, Jude. Now.”
Jude stiffened. His brother wasn’t wrong, but he had one more thing he wanted to say. He leveled Broderick with a cold, unblinking stare. “Go back to whatever miserable hovel you crawled out of. And leave me—and Lady Josephine—alone.”
Broderick clicked his tongue, amusement flickering in his eyes. “She will be my wife. Make no mistake about that.”
The words struck Jude like a blow. Something sharp and violent surged through him. “Not as long as I am alive.”
Broderick’s lips twitched into a taunting almost-smile, but he said nothing. Coward. He didn’t even have the nerve to repeat his claim.
Jude didn’t give him another glance. He turned on his heel and strode towards the entrance, Luca close at his side. A hush rippled through the room as every patron at White’s turned to watch them pass, curiosity and scandal-hunger bright in their eyes.
Let them stare. Let them whisper.
He didn’t care.
All that mattered was Josephine and keeping her safe from the man who dared speak of her as if she were some possession he could claim.
And Jude refused to let that happen.
“This is a terrible idea.”
Josephine heard the tremor in her mother’s voice but brushed it aside as she descended the stairs, clutching the banister as though it alone held her upright. “Duly noted, but I can’t stay here anymore.”
“But this is your home,” her mother argued, following her down.
Josephine reached the bottom of the staircase and forced her breathing to remain level. “I will feel more comfortable at our country home when the scandal breaks.”