Page 11 of A Troublesome Circumstance

She straightened, her chin tilting up ever so slightly. “I never said that he was my father.”

“No,” he conceded. “But your reaction did.” He offered her a reassuring glance. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

Josephine pushed back her chair and rose, moving towards the small window. The gray light from outside caught the side of her face, softening the tension around her mouth. For a long moment, she said nothing, just stared out into the sheets of rain. Finally, she asked, “How did you know?”

“I read the newssheets,” Jude replied, leaning an elbow on the arm of his chair. It was only half a lie—he had read them, just not as a gamekeeper.

She turned, one brow arching in skepticism. “Out here? In the middle of the woods?”

He didn’t so much as flinch. “The household staff at the Duke of Ashmoore’s estate save them for me. I collect them when I stop by.” Another lie—smoothly delivered, but it still sat poorly on his tongue.

Her expression softened into resignation. “Then I suppose it’s time for me to leave.”

As if summoned by her words, a gust of wind howled, and the rain began to pound harder against the roof.

“It’s not safe for you to leave,” Jude stated at once, rising to his feet.

“It matters not,” she said, already moving towards the door. Her movements were graceful but resolute.

He stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Wait. Is this because I guessed who your father was?”

She refused to meet his gaze. “Yes. I do not wish to bring trouble to your doorstep.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re a little late for that,” he said. “Nothing’s changed now that I know you’re a lady.”

“But—”

“No buts, Josephine.” He cut her off, his voice firm but kind. “I said I’d help you get word to your family, and I will.”

Her gaze flickered with gratitude—and something else. “If you do, I’ll see that you’re well rewarded.”

He frowned. “I don’t need your money.”

“But surely money would ease your situation here,” she pressed, gesturing faintly around the cottage.

Jude let out a low chuckle and spread his arms wide. “I’ve everything I need and then some.”

She smiled faintly, that quiet sincerity in her eyes again. “You are a good man, Jude.”

The words hit harder than he expected. He winced inwardly. A good man. If she only knew. If she knew he wasn’t a humble gamekeeper but an earl, hiding from expectations he could no longer stomach, would she look at him differently? Try to trap him, as others had before her?

The thought made him take a half-step back, folding his arms defensively. Women of her class were not to be trusted. They lied with poise and flattered with precision. He’d seen it too many times.

Feeling the need to regain some distance, he asked sharply, “But not good enough to know the truth about you?”

Her lips parted in surprise. “It’s for the best.”

“For whom?” he demanded.

Josephine wrapped her arms around herself as though warding off a chill or perhaps his scrutiny. “For everyone,” she whispered.

“You can trust me.”

“Trust you? I hardly know you.” Then after a long pause, she added, “I suppose you deserve the truth. I owe you that much.” She dropped her arms to her sides. “I was at a ball last night. I stepped out onto the veranda for a bit of air. Mr. Broderick joined me.”

Jude stiffened. He had heard her utter that name before. “And?”

Her eyes lifted to his, filled with both fear and defiance. “He pressed a pistol to my side and forced me through the gardens and into his coach. It was waiting at the edge of the property. He meant to take me to Gretna Green.”