Page 60 of A Troublesome Circumstance

Lord Redden didn’t even grant him a glance. “You may go. This is a family matter.”

Jude ignored the dismissal, looking only at her. “Will you be all right?”

Josephine nodded, though the movement was faint. “I will be. Thank you.”

Lord Redden yanked her firmly towards the door. “What in the blazes possessed you to let him escort you to the library?” he demanded as they walked.

She cast a look over her shoulder—a fleeting, fragile moment—and met Jude’s eyes.

“He is a friend.”

“A friend?” Lord Redden scoffed. “Young women are not friends with gentlemen. One of them always expects something from the other.”

Jude didn’t hear the rest. He couldn’t. His pulse thundered too loudly, drowning out everything except the sting of having put her in the center of danger he had sworn to shield her from.

Blast it all.

He hadn’t meant to get her into trouble. He had only wanted to make certain she was safe.

As they made their way down the corridor towards the ballroom, Josephine snatched her hand free of her brother’s grasp, heat rising in her cheeks.

“What gives you the right to speak to me that way?” she demanded, stopping short so that Alexander nearly ran into her.

“The right?” Alexander repeated, arching a brow as though she were being absurd. “I saw you in the library, Josephine. Holding hands with a man. You were being entirely too familiar.”

“He is a friend,” she said. “A good man.”

“Bah.” He made a disgusted sound. “He is no friend. He was only trying to lift your skirts.”

She gasped. “Alexander! What a crude thing to say.”

“It makes it no less true,” he said, pushing open the tall double doors that led into the glittering ballroom. “It is a blessing I found you when I did.”

Josephine lifted her chin and swept past him into the bright, swirling room, refusing to acknowledge the prick of hurt in her chest. She didn’t owe him an explanation, and she certainly wouldn’t allow him to dictate whom she could speak to.

Alexander followed, muttering under his breath, and gestured towards the refreshment table where their mother stood, her hands clasped tightly before her bodice.

Josephine approached. Relief flickered in her mother’s eyes the moment she saw her.

“I was so worried,” her mother breathed.

“You needn’t be,” Josephine rushed to assure her. “I was in the library.”

“With a man,” Alexander added, leaning forward as though announcing a scandal.

Her mother’s gaze sharpened. “The man you danced with earlier?”

“Yes.” Josephine kept her chin up, though her heart gave a small pound.

Before their mother could say more, Alexander interjected, “We’ll discuss this later. Lady Gwendolyn approaches.”

Josephine turned, and her heart dropped. Lady Gwendolyn was gliding towards them, tall and slender, her narrow purple mask glittering under the candlelight. Her blonde hair was piled high in elaborate curls, a diamond bandeau perched atop it like a crown.

Josephine resisted the urge to groan. Why did Alexander insist on pursuing her, of all people? Lady Gwendolyn was vain, pretentious, and made a habit of pretending Josephine did not exist.

Alexander bowed deeply. “My lady.”

Lady Gwendolyn curtsied. “My lord.” She shifted her gaze to Lady Redden, her smile tight. “My lady, I must say, I didn’t think a woman of your age could handle wearing such a gown, but you’ve managed.”