Page 9 of A Troublesome Circumstance

Jude’s gaze met hers, steady and unguarded. “I want you to know,” he said, “that you are safe here with me. I mean you no harm.”

Something in the quiet conviction of his tone made her chest tighten. She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. “I believe you,” she replied. “I… I feel safe.”

He inclined his head, as if relieved. “Good.” Turning towards the door, he reached for his coat.

She watched him, the small pistol resting in her lap. The rain had softened to a steady drizzle, but she had no desire to see him walk out into it.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked suddenly.

He stopped, his hand on the latch. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he turned back to her, a faint, teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Because I couldn’t very well leave you in that stable to die,” he said lightly. “How would I explain that to the constable?”

Despite everything, a small laugh escaped her. “I suppose you have a point.”

He smiled fully this time. “Then we’re even and you’ve given me an excuse to avoid the constable.”

“Even so, I am most grateful to you, Jude.”

He tipped his head in a modest nod. “Sleep now, Josephine. I’ll see to the stable and be back before you can worry again.”

As he disappeared into the rain, the door shutting behind him, Josephine looked down at the pistol in her hands. It was small and elegant, its weight surprisingly reassuring. She wasn’t certain whether it was the weapon—or the man who had given it to her—that made her feel safe.

Jude’s eyes flung open at the faint creak of the floorboard. He reached for the pistol at his side, every muscle tense, his heart thudding once before settling into the steady rhythm of readiness.

The shadows shifted near the hearth, and then he saw her—Josephine—frozen mid-step, her hands raised in surrender, wide-eyed and contrite. “I’m sorry,” she whispered quickly, her voice edged with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I was only looking for something to eat.”

Jude exhaled, lowering his weapon. The tension bled from his shoulders, replaced by mild amusement. “You move quieter than most,” he murmured, setting the pistol aside. “I do apologize but I am not used to company here.”

“That is understandable.”

He glanced towards the pot simmering gently over the fire. “I have stew, and—if you can believe it—more stew.”

She smiled. “Stew sounds delicious.”

Jude rose, his boots brushing against the worn floorboards as he reached for a cup. He ladled out a portion of broth and held it out to her. “Do be careful. It is still a little warm.”

She stepped closer and accepted the cup. “Thank you,” she said. “Dare I ask how you slept?”

He gave a short laugh. “Not well. That’s become rather normal for me these days.”

Josephine pulled out a chair and settled herself gracefully, wrapping her hands around the warm cup. “I can sleep anywhere, at any time. My mother says it’s a gift.”

“I take it that means you slept well?”

“Once I did fall asleep, yes,” she admitted. “Though I’ll confess, having the muff pistol beside me offered some comfort.”

Jude bit back a smile. If only she knew the thing wasn’t loaded. The thought of handing a weapon to a woman he barely knew was ludicrous. For all he knew, she might have been sent to find him—though his gut told him otherwise. No, she wasn’t lying. She truly believed he was nothing more than a humble gamekeeper. And strangely, that knowledge soothed him.

She didn’t see a title when she looked at him. Not a fortune. Just a man.

Jude studied her more closely in the flickering firelight. Her features were refined but soft and her hair had come loose from its pins, curling gently about her shoulders. There was something familiar about her, and yet he couldn’t place her. He’d met dozens—no, hundreds—of Society ladies, each one polished to perfection and eager for a title. But Josephine was different.

She took a small sip of the stew, then glanced towards the window. “The rain hasn’t ceased yet.”

He followed her gaze to where raindrops streaked down the glass like silver threads. “No, it hasn’t,” he replied. “What happens when it does?”

Her expression turned thoughtful, almost resigned. “I will leave.”

“And where will you go?”