Page 40 of A Troublesome Circumstance

Josephine rushed into the hall, her skirts tangling around her legs as she ran. There, standing in the doorway, was her mother—small, thin, with brown hair streaked liberally with white.

“Mother,” Josephine cried again, flinging herself into her mother’s arms. The familiar scent of lavender enveloped her, and for the first time in days, she allowed herself to truly exhale.

“My darling girl,” her mother murmured, holding her tight. “You are safe. Thank heaven.”

A deeper voice intruded upon the reunion. “Please, do show some decorum,” her brother, Alexander, muttered.

Their mother pulled back, still holding Josephine by the shoulders. “Hush, Alexander. I will embrace my daughter as I please.” Her sharp eyes swept Josephine’s face, then widened. “Good gracious, your forehead—did a doctor stitch that wound?”

Josephine hesitated. “No, a friend did.”

Alexander gave a derisive sniff. “Poorly, by the look of it. It will scar.”

“A scar is the least of her worries,” her mother said briskly. “Now, greet your sister properly.”

With a rigid hand, Alexander patted her sleeve. “I am relieved you are not dead.”

Her mother sighed. “Perhaps I should handle the conversation from now on.” She turned back to Josephine. “How did you end up here, Child?”

“That is… a long story,” Josephine said.

“Well, you may tell it on the journey home. We depart at once.”

“Now?” Josephine’s voice came out faint.

“Is there a reason you would prefer to remain here?” her mother asked, one brow arching.

“No, of course not, I simply…” Her words trailed off. How could she explain the ache in her chest at the thought of leaving Jude behind?

Her mother tilted her head. “Simply what, dearest?”

Josephine drew herself up, her composure returning by sheer will. “I merely did not wish to be rude to Lord Luca and Lady Luca. They have been exceedingly kind to me.”

Lord Luca, who had followed them into the hall, inclined his head. “You are always welcome here, Lady Josephine, but your mother is right. The weather is fine, and it would be prudent to travel while daylight remains.”

Her mother smiled gratefully. “Thank you, my lord. You have my deepest thanks for caring for my daughter.”

He gestured towards Charlotte, who had joined him. “I daresay that my wife deserves much of the credit.”

“Then I thank you, too, my lady,” her mother said warmly. “When we learned Josephine had been in a carriage accident and was missing, we feared the worst. We were traveling here when one of your riders found us.”

“She should not have run off with Mr. Broderick in the first place,” Alexander muttered.

Josephine turned on him. “I did not run off with Mr. Broderick. He abducted me.”

Alexander’s expression remained skeptical. “We can discuss it later.”

Her temper rose. “Is that what you truly believe? That I willingly left a ball to elope with that man?”

“What else were we to think?” Alexander demanded. “One moment you were there, the next you were gone. You did not even have the courtesy to leave a note.”

Josephine’s mouth fell open, indignation stealing her breath. “Because I was abducted, Alexander!”

“Yes, well, that is a likely story if you ask me,” Alexander said, his arms crossed and his expression unmoved. “Say your goodbyes, and we can discuss this further in the carriage. There’s no need for Lord Luca and his wife to witness a family squabble.”

Josephine clenched her hands together, her nails biting into her gloves. She wanted to defend herself—to shout that she had been abducted, not complicit, but she knew there was little point. Her brother’s mind was made up, and any further argument would only make her look foolish.

Still, there was something she needed to do before she left. Something she could not leave undone.