Page 67 of A Troublesome Circumstance

Rupert exhaled slowly. “That… is a complicated question.” Then he shook his head. “But now is not the time for that. We need to depart before we become bigger spectacles.”

Only then did Jude glance back towards the ballroom doors. Several guests were staring openly, some whispering behind their fans, others craning their necks as if he were a scandal on parade.

Good gads. Could this night get any worse?

He dragged a hand down his face. “Come,” he muttered. “Let’s go around back.”

Without another glance towards the ballroom, Jude stepped off the veranda and strode into the darkness of the night.

Josephine lay sprawled across her bed, her gaze fixed on the soft folds of her canopy. How could she have been so blind? She threw an arm over her face. Jude… no, Lord Pendryn… had never acted like a simple gamekeeper. That commanding presence she had noticed—the quiet confidence, the gentle authority—she had dismissed it as her imagination. But it had been real. And she had been an utter fool not to see it.

Her stomach twisted.

He must think I’m a complete idiot.

She reached for a pillow and pressed it over her face, letting out a muffled groan of humiliation. If only she could disappear into the mattress. Or better yet, punch his aggravatingly handsome face. Not that it would fix anything, but it would certainly make her feel better.

And the worst part? She understood exactly why he had kept his identity a secret. That made it worse because understanding only deepened her mortification.

The door swung open without a knock.

“Good morning, Child—though I suppose I ought to say good afternoon. You are sleeping the day away.”

Josephine didn’t bother lifting the pillow. “I don’t care,” she muttered.

Her mother stepped closer; the mattress dipped as she sat. A moment later, the pillow was plucked away.

Her mother’s brows rose. “I take it you are still upset over last night.”

“No.” The lie was pitiful even to her own ears.

“Mm.” Her mother gave her a pointed look. “Are you going to tell me what has you so upset?”

“No.”

“Interesting.” Her mother folded her hands neatly in her lap. “All I know is that you returned from the veranda after speaking with Lord Pendryn, and you had most definitely been crying.”

“I was not crying,” Josephine insisted weakly. “I merely had something in my eye.”

Her mother gave an unamused snort. “I may be many things, but a simpleton is not one of them. Now, what did he say that upset you?”

“Nothing.”

The frown deepened. “Very well, don’t tell me. But I have a theory, and it is one I doubt you will like.”

“Which is?”

Leaning closer, her mother lowered her voice conspiratorially. “That Lord Pendryn lied about being a gamekeeper.”

Josephine’s lips parted. “How did you know?”

A mischievous smile curved her mother’s mouth. “I may have overheard part of the conversation when I went to look for you.”

“You… you overheard?” Josephine groaned. “So you understand my shame?”

“No, I do not,” her mother said matter-of-factly. “Who cares that he hid who he really was? All he did was take you to his father’s house, did he not?”

Josephine bit her lip and kept her gaze fixed firmly on her coverlet.