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Shock jolted through her. "He told you?"
"Who? Jude? No, the housekeeper told me. She is aware that you have behaved in an impetuous way and is eager to keep you from scandal. It was from Mr. White, I presume?"
"He asked me to marry him," she murmured, surprised at the relief that coursed through her. Jude hadn't betrayed her trust.
"You haven't changed your mind about him?"
"No! Whatever happens, I won't marry Mr. White."
"Good. But you will tell me if he contacts you again?"
She considered the question for a long moment before nodding.
"Oh, and Aidan is eager to discover his whereabouts. If he gave a direction, please don't reveal it to Aidan. A murder trial wouldn't help the situation."
She left the library without another word, and went upstairs to offer her false fiancé an olive branch.
Jude removed his coat and crumpled it into a ball as the distant echo of gunshots hovered in the air. He lay back on the shaded grass, propped the coat behind his head, and cracked open the book that had been delivered to his room that morning.
As soon as the pages had been laid in his hand, Jude had sent word that he would miss the morning hunt, and he'd sent himself off to the garden to read. It was a beautiful morning, surprisingly warm, and Marissa York was softening toward him.
But perhaps softening was the wrong word. Tension was what he was after, and her body fairly snapped with it.
He stared at the first page of the book without seeing it. Instead he thought of Marissa. She was pretty, but more than that, she was fascinating. Her ill-hidden wildness. The way she spoke of men with simultaneous affection and disdain. Her hot temper and cool words.
Neither her activities nor dress marked her as any different from other young women of society. And yet, beneath that facade of normality, something else burned. Something hot and fierce.
Jude had admired her from afar, but now that he was close... he was enchanted.
But his goal was to pique her interest, not to follow her about like a lovesick pup. She had enough of that kind of attention. So much that she didn't see it. There were at least two young men vying for her eye at the York estate, but she saw them as dance partners and nothing more.
Marissa was bored and restless and spoiled, and she didn't even know it.
Jude slid the note free from the pages of the book and smiled at the curls of her signature. So deceptively delicate. She had everyone fooled. But not him.
He saw the meaning behind her simple words. A story of admirable emotion, it read. And she certainly was.
The book was part of her puzzle, so he forced himself to focus on it, and before long he was swept up in the rush of dialogue and drama. Soon enough, the sun's shadow had crept far down his legs when Jude looked up to see a woman in the garden. Marissa. She hadn't noticed him yet, and he didn't dare disturb her solitude.
Instead, he watched her. She moved quickly through the grassy walks of the garden, snapping off dried heads. It was unnecessary, he knew. The rose bushes would be pruned soon in preparation for winter, so a few dead blooms meant nothing, but the exercise must relax her, pointless as it was. Her face looked peaceful and younger.
She must be frightened about her future, but she had yet to let it show. He'd seen her angry and happy and disapproving and joyful. And now peaceful. But never scared.
His mother would like her, and he had no doubt the two women would meet someday. Marissa was not the kind of lady who would pass up the chance to meet a true-life courtesan. The meeting would likely be kept secret from the rest of society, but Marissa wouldn't be able to resist. Jude wasn't sure he could've said that of any other woman of the ton.
She looked up then, and her body froze when their eyes met. Jude raised the book high enough so she could see it, and her shoulders relaxed. Much to Jude's surprise, she walked toward him with a smile.
"Good morning, Marissa."
Her cheeks were pink from the sun, and her smile uncharacteristically soft as she sank down to the grass beside him. The skirts of her yellow dress belled out around her before she patted them down. "You're not riding."
"I had a book to read."
"And what do you think?"
"It's admirably emotional. And enjoyably overwrought."
"Cheeky."
