Page 99 of A Troublesome Circumstance

“Ah, say no more,” the duke replied, amusement in his tone.

Charlotte stepped forward immediately, clasping Josephine’s hands. “Luca and I feel awful for lying to you, truly. But Jude threatened to withhold chocolate from me if I did not cooperate.”

Jude barked a laugh. “I did no such thing.”

“Perhaps not,” Charlotte allowed, “but I still hope you won’t despise us indefinitely for our part in the charade.”

Josephine lifted her gaze. “I do not hate you. But I imagine you must think me intolerably foolish for mistaking Jude for a gamekeeper.”

“Heavens, no!” Charlotte exclaimed. “I thought it was sweet how you treated him—kindly, and without any notion of who he truly was.”

Jude stepped closer, his voice warm. “No one is judging you, Josie. I was exceedingly convincing as a gamekeeper.” He puffed out his chest in mock pride.

Luca scoffed. “You were far too cocky to be a convincing gamekeeper.”

Josephine couldn’t help smiling at their banter. Then she gestured towards her mother. “Lord Luca, Lady Luca—allow me to introduce my mother, Lady Redden.”

“Lady Luca?” Charlotte repeated with a wrinkle of her nose. “No, no. Please call me Charlotte. It is far easier to say, and I already think of both of you as friends.”

“That is kind of you,” her mother said warmly.

Just then, the butler appeared at the doorway. “Dinner is served.”

Before Josephine could move, Jude was suddenly at her side, offering his arm. “May I escort you to dinner?”

She didn’t even pretend to consider. She placed her gloved hand on his sleeve. “Thank you, Jude.”

As they walked down the corridor, his head dipped closer. “Look behind us.”

Josephine turned subtly, and her breath caught.

Her mother and the duke walked side by side, smiling at each other—smiling—as naturally as if they had been doing so for years.

“Our plan is working,” Jude murmured.

“It is,” Josephine whispered back. “My mother was nearly sick with nerves this evening. I think her feelings run deeper than she admits.”

“Same for my father.”

Josephine’s lips twitched. “You do realize that if they wed, we will be brother and sister.”

Jude stiffened beside her. “Stepbrother and stepsister,” he corrected quickly. “There is a difference.”

“There is,” she agreed.

But as she glanced up at him, Josephine knew her feelings for Jude were nothing like the affection of a sister. If anything, the thought only made her heart beat faster, a flutter she could neither deny nor control.

16

Jude watched from across the table as Josephine competed in a lively round of whist. She held her cards too close to her face—an earnest habit he found utterly endearing—and each time she laid one down, she laughed at something someone said. Her laughter was soft but bright, like a hearth crackling back to life.

He couldn’t help smiling. She calmed him—truly calmed him—in a way he had not known was possible. One glance at her and every jagged edge inside him eased.

He’d once believed himself broken beyond repair. But she… she had put him back together, piece by unexpected piece.

And then the realization hit him, sudden and absolute.

He didn’t want to marry her because of duty.