Page 16 of A Troublesome Circumstance

He allowed a smile to tug at his lips. “I thought you’d be eager for me to send word to your family.”

“I am, but…” She paused, biting her lower lip. “Could I not go with you?”

His smile faded. “And how would we explain your presence if we arrived together on a single horse? I rather think it would draw unwanted attention.”

She looked down. “You are right, of course. I just—” Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “I don’t like the thought of being out here alone.”

“You’ll be safe, I promise. Have some stew and read one of the books on the shelf. I’ll be back with another horse before you have time to miss me.”

She lifted her gaze to meet his. “At least I have the muff pistol you gave me.”

A twinge of guilt pricked him. “Yes, well… I should probably tell you that the pistol isn’t loaded. It’s mostly decorative.”

Her mouth parted in surprise. “Oh. I hadn’t realized. I’ll confess, I’ve never handled a pistol before.”

“I only gave it to you so you’d feel safer,” he admitted.

“It did help,” she said quietly, and there was something in her tone that made his chest ache.

He smiled faintly. “Then perhaps I can make it up to you. I will teach you how to shoot properly, assuming your family doesn’t come straightaway to collect you.”

But she didn’t return his smile. Instead, she glanced away towards the woods, her voice barely above the whisper of wind through the trees. “What if the Duke of Ashmoore’s household won’t take me in?”

“They will,” he asserted.

“How can you be so certain?”

He took a slow step closer until he stood but a few feet from her. “Because I know the household well. They’ll help you. I promise.”

Her eyes met his, filled with quiet doubt. “I hope you are right.”

“I am.” Then to lighten the moment, he added, “But if by some strange chance they turn you away, you’re welcome to stay here—so long as you don’t mind rabbit stew for every meal.”

That drew a small laugh from her. “How do you not tire of it?”

“Because it’s the only thing I know how to cook,” he said with a grin.

“That’s admirable,” she replied. “I was banned from the kitchen years ago. Our cook still tells the tale of my disastrous attempt at baking bread.”

He chuckled. “You’re a lady. No one expects you to cook.”

“True,” she said with a faint shudder, “though I daresay it’s a useful skill.”

The tremor in her voice caught his attention. He studied her for a moment. “Are you cold?”

“No,” she said quickly—too quickly.

Without another word, Jude shrugged off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. “Let’s get you back inside the cottage before you freeze.”

She clutched the coat tighter. “Thank you.”

He offered his arm, and they walked slowly towards the cottage, their footsteps crunching against the frosted earth.

“Stay inside and bolt the door once I leave,” he told her. “You’ll be safe here.”

“I can do that,” she murmured.

At the cottage door, he stepped ahead to open it for her. Once she was inside, he crossed to the small wooden table and opened the box where he kept his ammunition. “May I have your muff pistol?”