Page 18 of A Troublesome Circumstance

Glover’s brows lifted slightly. “Of course, my lord. What do you require?”

Jude paused, choosing his words carefully. “A young woman found her way to my cottage—alone, frightened, and in dire straits. Her carriage overturned on the road, and she had nowhere else to go. I offered her shelter.”

A rare flicker of concern crossed Glover’s otherwise unreadable expression. “There were reports of a young lady missing after such an accident. A Lady Josephine Tweedale, I believe.”

“That would be her,” Jude confirmed. “Send word immediately to her family that she’s safe, and inform them she’ll be residing here until her family arrives.”

Glover hesitated. “And where is Lady Josephine now?”

“At the cottage,” Jude replied.

The butler frowned, the faintest crease appearing between his brows. “Forgive me, but is that wise?”

“No,” Jude said with a humorless smile. “It isn’t. But leaving her to freeze in the woods would have been far worse. She needed help, and I was in a position to give it.”

Glover inclined his head. “Understood, my lord.”

“There is one more matter,” Jude continued. “Lady Josephine believes me to be the Duke of Ashmoore’s gamekeeper. I wish for that illusion to remain intact. Please inform the staff to treat me accordingly.”

That earned a visible reaction from Glover, his eyes widening a fraction before he masked his surprise. “Are you quite certain of that course?”

“I am,” Jude said firmly. “The lady is not at fault, but I have no wish to be caught in gossip or, heaven forbid, in an unwanted marriage proposal born of misplaced gratitude. As a gamekeeper, I am safely beneath her notice.”

Glover’s lips twitched, though he hid the amusement quickly. “Very well. And how shall we address you?”

“Jude.”

The butler looked positively scandalized. “Not Mr. Dexter?”

“She might recognize the name,” Jude said. “Best not to risk it.”

“Understood,” Glover replied, recovering his composure. “I shall see to it.”

“Good. Also, have some of my mother’s old gowns taken out of storage and pressed. She’ll need something suitable to wear until her family arrives.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And Glover”—Jude stopped halfway to the stairs, a wry smile tugging at his lips—“remove every portrait of me from the walls. I’d rather not have her discovering the truth through an oil painting.”

Jude didn’t wait for further comment. He mounted the stairs two at a time, his boots echoing faintly against the marble, and entered his bedchamber. Stevenson, his valet, was there, dusting the mahogany furniture.

“Welcome home, my lord,” Stevenson greeted, setting the cloth aside. “Would you care for a bath and a fresh change of clothes?”

“Not today. I need to return to the cottage sooner rather than later,” Jude said, shrugging off his coat and laying it across a chair. “I would, however, like a breakfast tray brought up. I’ve been up since before dawn.”

“I shall see to it.” Stevenson eyed him curiously. “If I may ask, how did your stay at the cottage go?”

Jude gave a dry chuckle. “It was uneventful, until it wasn’t. I had an unexpected visitor… a lady.”

The valet’s eyes widened. “A lady?”

“Yes, but before you leap to scandalous conclusions, she wasn’t there for that purpose. She’d been in an accident and needed help.”

Stevenson’s shock gave way to intrigue. “And where is she now?”

“At the cottage. I came ahead to arrange things before bringing her here. Her family will soon be notified.”

“And she knows who you are?”