Page 120 of A Troublesome Circumstance

The humor slipped from his face. “You are kind, but as a younger son, women tend to be more wary of me.”

“You are still the son of a marquess,” she reminded him.

“Yes, but they want titles. Power. Prestige.” He nodded towards the window. “And I have none of those things.”

Josephine had never heard him speak so vulnerably. Her heart twisted. “I’m sorry, Uncle.”

“But you are different,” he said, his expression softening. “You turned down Lord Pendryn to protect him, despite loving him. That is admirable.”

“I wish he felt the same.”

“He will,” her uncle responded. “Given time.” He settled back into his seat with a sigh. “I had a rider go ahead to secure lodging at our usual coaching inn. We should arrive before the lamps burn out.”

Josephine inclined her head, then turned to stare out the window again. The tall, smooth-lined buildings blurred past as dusk began to creep in.

“I tried to speak to The Morning Post about that dreadful article,” Uncle Leroy said. “But they were firm. It will be printed.”

“Thank you for trying.”

“Ironically, I was not their first visitor.”

Josephine met his gaze. “What do you mean?”

“Your Lord Pendryn spoke to them as well.”

Her back grew rigid. “He is not mine.”

“So you say.” He adjusted his black cravat, then continued, “Apparently, he offered them five thousand pounds to keep the article from being printed.”

Her breath left her in a rush. “Five thousand pounds? That is a fortune.”

“It is,” her uncle agreed. “But it did not sway them. They muttered something about journalistic integrity.” He gave her a pointed look. “My point, Josephine, is that Lord Pendryn is fighting for you.”

She turned her gaze stubbornly to the window. “I wish he would stop.”

“Do you?” her uncle asked, his voice sharp with knowing.

“Yes,” she insisted.

He studied her for a long moment. “Then you are a fool.”

She jerked her head towards him. “Pardon?”

Leaning forward, he said with no small amount of exasperation, “He is a man who clearly cares for you—deeply—and would move heaven and earth to be with you. Why would you cast that aside?”

Josephine stared at her clasped hands and forced herself to speak the truth she had kept hidden. “He doesn’t love me, Uncle.”

“Did he say so?”

“No. He only said he cares greatly for me.”

Her uncle threw his hands heavenward. “Why can’t women think more like men?”

“Pardon?”

“If you care for a woman, you say you care for her,” he said. “But when a man says he cares greatly for a woman, it often means far more.” He fixed her with a stern look. “Lord Pendryn will come for you. I am absolutely sure he will come for you. When he does… what will you do?”

“I told you⁠—”