Page 100 of A Troublesome Circumstance

Or obligation.

Or even to protect her.

He wanted to marry her because he had fallen helplessly, irrevocably in love with her. Now he only needed to convince her of that truth. Carefully. Patiently. Without frightening her away.

Luca nudged his elbow under the table. “You are staring,” he murmured.

Jude snapped his gaze down to his cards. “My apologies. I was woolgathering.”

“I can guess about who, Brother,” Luca whispered. “But do try not to be so blatant about it.”

Jude cleared his throat, heat prickling the back of his neck. “I find I no longer want to play cards.”

“That is perfectly acceptable,” Luca declared far too loudly, tossing his cards onto the table. “Since I was losing.” He looked around. “Jude has called the game.”

Jude rose, his attention already drawn back to Josephine. “Would you care to take a turn about the room with me?”

Her smile warmed him from the inside out. “I would be happy to.”

He crossed to her, offered his hand, and when she placed her gloved fingers in his, he tucked her arm securely into the crook of his. The contact steadied him and unsettled him all at once. They began a slow stroll around the parlor, passing portraits and bookcases and the flicker of the fire.

He was scrambling for something—anything—to say. And failing miserably.

Thankfully, she saved him.

“Lady Gwendolyn sends her regards,” she said, her tone unmistakably teasing.

“Wonderful,” he muttered, wishing the floorboards would swallow the very mention of that woman. Gwendolyn was the past, and Josephine was his future.

“My brother offered for her,” Josie went on, “and she accepted. I confess myself disappointed. I would rather have had Alexander marry a rock.”

“A… rock?”

“They share the same amount of brain space.” She said it primly, as if delivering a scholarly observation.

He chuckled. “That is dreadful.”

“It is also true,” she added. “My mother says I should be kinder, but I am not overly fond of Lady Gwendolyn. In fact, knowing you once fancied her almost makes me want to hate you.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“I hope you have moved past that urge.”

“I have,” she said graciously. “Now I tolerate you.”

He pressed his free hand to his heart. “Your approval overwhelms me, Josie. Truly.”

“I do not doubt it,” she replied, surveying the parlor. “This is a lovely home.”

“Honestly,” he admitted, “I prefer the cottage to this townhouse or even Ashmoore Hall. It is the only place I can think clearly.”

“And eat rabbit stew.”

He grinned. “I recall no complaints when you were famished.”

“That is because I was wise enough not to insult the man who was feeding me,” she countered. “But the stew was awful.”

Jude gasped dramatically. “You wound me.”

“You will live,” she said lightly.