Page 85 of A Troublesome Circumstance

He strode towards her, stopping mere inches away. “If you want to be useful, you could marry and leave this household.”

The words sliced through her, but she refused to recoil. “Why are you being so cruel?”

“Because you think you’re owed something!” Alexander shouted. “You have no idea what I do to keep this estate afloat! You buy hats and gowns without a thought. But I think of the cost. I must.”

Josephine blinked rapidly against the sting behind her eyes. “Alexander… is something wrong?”

“What could possibly be wrong?” he barked. “I give everything, and it is never enough. I am never enough!”

“That isn’t true,” she said softly, stepping closer.

He looked away. “Why am I even speaking to you? You wouldn’t understand. No one does.”

“Let me try,” she whispered. “Please.”

“No.” He waved a hand. “Go to bed.”

“Alexander—”

He shot her a weary glance. “You never listen, do you?”

Before she could respond, their mother spoke up from behind them.

“Good heavens, what is all this shouting about?” she demanded, shutting the door behind her. “You’ll wake the entire household.”

Alexander slumped into his chair. “I’m sorry, Mother. Josephine and I were simply having a conversation.”

A conversation? Josephine stared at him. Is that what he calls this?

Their mother turned to her. “Is that true?”

Josephine could have told her mother the truth. But as she looked at Alexander, slumped in his chair like a man carrying the weight of far too many burdens, her heart softened. He looked… defeated.

And she could not bring herself to strike at him when he was already down.

“Yes,” she murmured at last, “it was just a conversation.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed with doubt, the way they always did when she sensed she wasn’t getting the full truth. But mercifully, she chose not to push. “Then perhaps it is best if you both go to sleep and start anew tomorrow.”

Neither sibling moved.

Their mother lifted her brows and gestured pointedly towards the door. “Come along, Josephine.”

She followed her mother out of the study, feeling Alexander’s weary silence lingering behind her like a shadow.

As they climbed the staircase, her mother spoke in a hushed voice. “Would you like to tell me the real truth about what happened between you and your brother?”

Josephine tightened her grip on her wrapper. “Perhaps tomorrow.”

Or never.

Because how could she explain something she did not yet understand herself? One moment she and Alexander were arguing about Mr. Broderick, and the next, Alexander had erupted, his emotions laid bare. She had never seen her brother so openly vulnerable.

And then there was Mr. Broderick. The way he spoke—you promised me Josephine—as if she were property. As if her life and future could be bartered away without her consent.

What had Alexander told him? What bargain had been struck? What debt was so large that Broderick believed himself entitled to a wife who wanted nothing to do with him?

Her mother glanced over her shoulder. “Whatever it is, my dear, you need not keep it all inside. When you are ready to talk, I am here.”