Page 117 of A Troublesome Circumstance

Jude didn’t give him another glance. He turned on his heel and strode towards the entrance, Luca close at his side. A hush rippled through the room as every patron at White’s turned to watch them pass, curiosity and scandal-hunger bright in their eyes.

Let them stare. Let them whisper.

He didn’t care.

All that mattered was Josephine and keeping her safe from the man who dared speak of her as if she were some possession he could claim.

And Jude refused to let that happen.

“This is a terrible idea.”

Josephine heard the tremor in her mother’s voice but brushed it aside as she descended the stairs, clutching the banister as though it alone held her upright. “Duly noted, but I can’t stay here anymore.”

“But this is your home,” her mother argued, following her down.

Josephine reached the bottom of the staircase and forced her breathing to remain level. “I will feel more comfortable at our country home when the scandal breaks.”

“I will come with you,” her mother declared.

“No,” Josephine said quickly. She stopped in the entry hall and turned to face her mother. “You shouldn’t leave Town because of me.”

“I don’t care a whit about the Season,” her mother replied firmly.

Josephine arched a brow. “And what of your blooming romance with the duke?”

The softest blush tinted her mother’s cheeks. “I daresay it won’t matter soon enough.”

“If I am gone, the whispers may die down,” Josephine said. “They will leave you alone… give you the chance to explore your feelings for the duke.”

“And if they don’t?”

Josephine shrugged, though her throat tightened. “Then at least I won’t be around to hear them.”

Her mother frowned, the lines around her eyes pinching. “We could weather this storm together.”

Josephine’s chest ached. Jude’s voice echoed in her mind, warm and sure. We can weather it together. The same promise, the same hope. She let herself feel it—only for a moment.

Then she forced the memory away.

Jude was not hers.

Her mother reached out, placing a pleading hand on Josephine’s sleeve. “Why can’t you stay here with us?”

“Because I feel more at home in the woods than I do in Town,” Josephine answered. “I always have.”

“But… Josephine⁠—”

A voice interrupted from the corridor.

“Let her go.”

Josephine turned and found her uncle stepping out of the shadows, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Thank you, Uncle Leroy.”

He offered her a kind, steady smile. “I have spoken to Alexander, and we believe it would be best if I accompany you to your country home.”

“That is most generous, but will you not miss Town?” she asked.