Page 20 of A Troublesome Circumstance

“I thought as much.” He bowed his head slightly. “Are you ready to depart?”

“Now?”

He merely smiled. “Unless you require another bowl of rabbit stew?” he teased. “The servants at Ashmoore Hall are expecting you and I should say their spread will be more to your liking.”

As if on cue, her stomach rumbled. “I suppose I am a little tired of rabbit stew.”

“Heaven forbid.” He made a face at the notion. “It is a staple of my diet.”

“I did not mean to offend.”

“Too late,” he said, but the edge of mockery melted into something gentler. He set his hands on the mare’s flank. “After you, my lady.”

She let him assist her onto the mare and took up the reins. Jude mounted his own horse and fell into place at a careful distance. “Follow me,” he said, and they threaded the path together.

The woods closed about them like a whispered secret: light falling in mottled patches, leaves hushing under hooves, a distant jay calling as if to mark their passage. Knots of anxiety in her chest stilled with each measured stride. The motion had a healing quality she could not name.

When they emerged into the clearing, the duke’s country home lifted from the land and the sight made her breath catch. She urged the mare forward and couldn’t stop herself from smiling. How she loved riding: the keen air, the way her skirts settled, the beautiful and simple competence of it. It was a pleasure she did not take for granted.

They pulled into the gravel drive where a footman stepped forward to take the horses. She slid from the saddle without assistance.

The footman offered a bow. “My lady,” he said, then hesitated and added, “My… Jude.”

Jude returned the reins. “Thank you.” He inclined his head towards the main door. “Shall we?”

As they walked up the stairs, she asked in a low voice, “Did the footman call you ‘my Jude’?”

He chuckled. “He did. The servants here are very friendly.”

“Interesting,” she murmured.

The main door opened and a tall man with black hair and the look of someone who kept other people’s affairs in order met them. “My lady. Jude. You two are most welcome here.”

“Thank you,” she acknowledged.

“It is our pleasure. My name is Glover. I have been butler to the duke these many years.”

“I am Lady Josephine Tweedale,” she replied.

“Jude informed us of your arrival,” Glover said. “You should know that we have sent riders in all directions to locate your family. Furthermore, the coroner will wish to speak to you about the accident—the two who were killed⁠—”

“Two.” The number landed like a stone. “Only two?”

Glover’s eyebrows climbed. “Is two not enough, my lady?”

A fog of shame rose in her at the selfish brightness of the thought that had been curling in her mind. “No, no—” She flushed. “It is only that—I had thought—” She stopped, because the truth sounded monstrous: that a part of her, in the disordered hours after the crash, had constructed a hoped-for ending in which the villain at their center had been among the dead. She hated herself for the clarity of that wish. “Forgive me. It was a foolish thing to say.”

Jude placed a reassuring hand on her sleeve. “No need to apologize,” he assured her. “You are safe here. Mr. Broderick cannot reach you here. I promise.”

She lifted her face to him. “But what of when I leave? I cannot⁠—”

“Focus on what you can control now.” He looked at her with a patience that was close to belief. “A bath, dry clothes, a hot meal. We can face everything else in time.”

At that moment, a blonde-haired maid stepped from a corridor with a modest smile. “A bath has been prepared for you, my lady,” she announced.

“A bath sounds heavenly,” she admitted.

“Good,” Jude said with exaggerated severity, letting his hand drop from her arm. “Because you require one.”