Page 128 of A Troublesome Circumstance

“My lady. My lord,” she greeted warmly. “Your rider has already arrived. Your rooms are prepared just as you prefer.”

Josephine inclined her head. “Thank you, Mrs. Crockett.”

“Will you be needing anything? A bath? A meal?”

“Food sounds wonderful,” Josephine admitted. “May a tray be brought up?”

“Of course, my lady. You are in your usual room.”

“Very good.”

Mrs. Crockett stepped aside. “A fire has been laid in your hearth as well, per your rider’s instructions.”

A sigh escaped her. A warm fire, a quiet room, a tray of food… anything that allowed her to stop thinking about Jude and the pain of leaving him behind.

They entered the inn, passing the rowdy laughter from the main hall. It felt strange to be surrounded by such noise when her heart felt so very fragile.

“This way, my lady,” Mrs. Crockett urged.

Josephine followed her up the narrow staircase and down the corridor to the last room on the right. Mrs. Crockett unlocked it and held the door open.

The room was small, rectangular, and sparsely furnished. A single bed faced the hearth, where flames flickered weakly. A little table sat by the door, upon which stood a vase of fresh flowers.

Josephine smiled. “I do enjoy the flowers.”

Mrs. Crockett beamed. “They are from my own gardens. I thought they might brighten things a bit.”

“They do. Thank you.”

Martha entered with a valise, panting slightly from carrying it. “Shall I prepare you for bed, my lady?”

“That is my cue to leave,” Mrs. Crockett said with a kind nod. “Your tray will be up momentarily.”

The door clicked shut behind her. Josephine sank onto the bed, wincing as the thin mattress gave a pitiful groan beneath her. At least it wasn’t stuffed with straw, she thought wryly.

Martha retrieved a brush. “Let me remove your pins.”

“You shall hear no complaints from me.”

Josephine sat quietly while Martha worked, dropping pins into a small dish one by one until her scalp felt lighter, freer. The brush strokes followed—slow, rhythmic, soothing.

But Martha, it seemed, was not content with silence.

“How are you faring?”

Josephine exhaled heavily. “Well enough, I suppose.”

“I suppose that will do for now,” Martha murmured, twisting the hair and tucking it beneath a cap. “Would you like to change into your nightgown?”

“No, thank you. The tray is coming.”

Martha sat beside her. The bed groaned again. “My lady… are you certain you do not wish to return to Town?”

“I am,” she said more firmly than she felt.

“Well then, I won’t question it.” She hesitated. “However… do you not think Lord Pendryn will come after you?”

Josephine froze. The thought had haunted her since she’d climbed into the coach a few hours ago. Jude’s touch… his voice… his nearness… every bit of him weakened her resolve.