Page 31 of A Troublesome Circumstance

A flicker of amusement passed over Luca’s face. “See? You’ve already claimed her as yours without realizing it.”

Jude’s temper flared. “You twist everything I say.”

“I only repeat what you reveal,” Luca responded. “And what I see is a man trying very hard to convince himself he feels nothing. But I know that look, Jude. I had it myself not long ago—when Charlotte first entered my life.”

Jude froze, torn between anger and something that felt dangerously close to confession. “It isn’t the same.”

“Isn’t it?” Luca asked. “You both know she cannot stay. Yet you’re already acting as though she belongs here. As though she belongs to you.”

Jude turned away, pacing towards the fire. “You’re mistaken,” he insisted, but even he could hear the hollow ring in his voice. “When her family comes for her, I’ll be relieved.”

“I truly doubt that,” Luca said, moving to pour himself a brandy. “I may not know everything. But I know you. You feel too much, and that is the real danger.”

Jude didn’t answer. He only turned towards the door, pausing with his hand on the frame. “Goodnight, Luca.”

“Goodnight, Jude,” came the quiet reply.

Jude left the room without another word, but his brother’s warning lingered long after. As he ascended the stairs, he found himself glancing down the hall towards the guest wing—towards her chamber—and cursed under his breath.

Because for the first time, he feared Luca might be right.

6

Josephine stirred, her lashes fluttering open to an unfamiliar canopy above her. For a fleeting, breathless moment, panic seized her chest. Where was she? The bed was too soft, the room too elegant, the morning light too gentle to belong to the small cottage she remembered. Then, like a wave washing over her brain, her memory returned—the carriage accident, Mr. Broderick, the storm, and finally… Jude.

She exhaled slowly. She was safe. Here.

Rolling onto her side, she gazed towards the window, where pale morning sunlight filtered through the fine drapes. Somewhere out there, she hoped, her family was searching for her. Surely by now, a messenger had reached them. The thought of returning home filled her with both relief and a surprising ache.

Because going home meant leaving Jude.

Her heart squeezed at the thought. He had saved her—protected her—treated her not as a burden or a scandal, but as a person deserving of care. A lady did not pine after a man beneath her station, yet she could not deny the flutter that came whenever she thought of him.

A soft knock broke through her thoughts.

The door creaked open and Lucy stepped inside carrying a slip of folded paper. “My lady,” she said, curtsying. “Jude asked that I deliver this to you.”

Josephine sat up. A note? From a man? Her pulse leapt. “Thank you,” she murmured, taking it. Her fingers trembled slightly as she unfolded the paper and read the note. Look out your window.

Her brows lifted in curiosity. Gathering the coverlet around her, she swung her legs from the bed, her bare feet meeting the cool floorboards. She crossed to the window and unlatched it. The crisp morning air greeted her—along with Jude himself, standing below with a rakish grin.

“Good morning, my lady,” he called up. “I was beginning to think you’d decided to sleep the day away.”

Despite herself, she smiled. “Perhaps I had. I happen to be very fond of sleeping. It’s one of my more impressive talents.”

He chuckled. “Then I fear I’m about to ruin your morning leisure. I was hoping you’d join me for a lesson on the lawn.”

“A lesson?”

“In marksmanship,” he replied, gesturing towards a table not far off. Several pistols gleamed in the sunlight beside a row of targets. “You said you wished to learn. I thought today might be as fine a day as any.”

Her lips parted in surprise. “I did not think you took me seriously.”

“I rarely jest when it comes to teaching useful skills,” he said with mock solemnity.

“I shall need a moment to make myself presentable.”

He bowed low. “Take all the time you require. I shall be here—waiting… patiently.”