Page 98 of A Troublesome Circumstance

Once the coach door shut behind them, Josephine let out a groan.

Her mother laughed lightly. “I take it you are not pleased with Alexander’s engagement.”

“No,” Josephine muttered. “And you did not seem surprised.”

“I was not,” her mother said. “I offered my congratulations earlier this afternoon.”

Josephine stared at her. “Why her? There are hundreds of young women Alexander could have chosen. Why pick the one who is the most vexing creature in London?”

Her mother offered an understanding smile. “I will agree that Lady Gwendolyn is not my first choice…”

“Or second, or third,” Josephine grumbled.

“… but you need to be nice,” her mother chided. “She will be your sister soon enough.”

“Sister-in-law,” Josephine corrected under her breath, sinking back into the seat as the coach lurched forward.

“Dare I ask why you dislike her so much?” her mother asked.

Josephine pressed her lips together. She did not wish to sound petty, but the memory still pricked. “During Lady Henley’s soiree, I slipped off to the library while you were preoccupied with your friends.”

“Which was not wise.”

“I know,” Josephine conceded, “but that is not the point.” She drew a steadying breath. “Lady Gwendolyn found me. She was drinking champagne, surrounded by her friends, all of them giggling far too loudly for a library. She approached me and said that if I ever intended to find a husband, I must stop hiding among the books. Then”—Josephine’s voice tightened—“she tipped her champagne onto the book I was reading.”

“That was poorly done.”

“It was a first edition,” Josephine revealed. “She laughed as I tried to dry the pages with my skirts. Ever since then, I have done my best to avoid her.”

Her mother nodded slowly. “Yes… I can see why.”

“Which is why I stepped onto the veranda the night I was abducted,” Josephine shared. “I didn’t want to risk running into Lady Gwendolyn.”

“That was foolish. You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to be alone.”

“I needed a moment alone after my last dance partner. Uncle Leroy suggested I go onto the veranda for air. He even offered to go with me, but I turned him down. I didn’t want to take him away from the ball,” Josephine said. “If he had accompanied me, I wouldn’t have been alone and Mr. Broderick never would have abducted me.”

Before Josephine could say more, the coach slowed, then stopped before the Duke of Ashmoore’s grand townhouse. A footman hurried forward, placing the step and opening the door with impeccable timing.

Josephine accepted his hand and stepped down, the crisp evening air brushing her cheeks. She folded her hands in front of her and took a moment to admire the residence. Pale stone, tall windows lit from within, the unmistakable elegance of wealth and taste. Very few homes in London matched it.

Her mother looped their arms together and they ascended the stairs. The main door swung open just as they reached it, and they were ushered into the drawing room.

Josephine’s eyes immediately found Jude.

And heavens—he looked unbearably handsome in his black superfine, every line of him straight and proud. He smiled at her—an unguarded, warm smile—and some of the tension uncoiled inside her.

But her brief ease evaporated at the sound of an all-too-familiar voice behind her.

“Good evening, Lady Josephine,” a man said cheerfully. “We meet again.”

Josephine turned and found Lord Luca, with Charlotte on his arm, both wearing wide smiles.

Heat flooded her cheeks, and she dropped into a curtsy. “My lord. My lady.”

The Duke of Ashmoore followed them in with a genial expression. “I take it you have already met my son and his wife?”

Josephine dipped her head. “I have, Your Grace. At your country estate.”