Page 17 of A Troublesome Circumstance

She fetched it from beneath the pillow on the bed and placed it carefully in his palm. Without a word, he measured the powder, rammed the ball down, and primed the pistol before handing it back. “There. Now it’s loaded. Be careful with it.”

She examined it with uncertainty. “So I just point and shoot?”

“Not quite. You’ll need to cock it first—but yes, that’s the idea.”

“I think I’ll leave it on the table,” she said, setting it down. “I’d rather not accidentally shoot the furniture.”

“That would be wise,” he said, smiling despite himself.

She slipped off his coat and held it out to him. “I truly appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“You don’t need to thank me again.”

“But I must,” she insisted. “You’ve been far kinder than I deserve.”

He accepted the coat and slid his arms into the sleeves. “If the situation were reversed, I’ve no doubt you’d have done the same for me.”

“I would like to believe that.”

He hesitated, then met her gaze squarely. “I wouldn’t leave you here if I thought for a moment it wasn’t safe. I’ll return before you know it.”

Her eyes lingered on him, full of quiet worry. “What will you tell the servants about me?”

“I haven’t decided,” he admitted. “But you have my word, I won’t betray your confidence. Still”—his voice softened—“you belong in a grand house, not this tiny cottage.”

Her gaze drifted over the modest space. “I’m not certain that’s true. It’s rather peaceful here.”

He found himself smiling again. “Then I’m glad you think so. Now, bolt this door behind me, and open it for no one but me.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, giving him a little salute.

Jude laughed under his breath, shaking his head as he stepped outside. The door closed behind him with a soft thud, and for a moment, he stood there in the quiet morning, torn between the duty that awaited him and the warmth he already missed.

The morning air bit at Jude’s cheeks as he led his horse from the stable. The animal tossed its head, eager for the ride, and Jude murmured a quiet word of reassurance while adjusting the bridle. Swinging himself into the saddle, he exhaled slowly, glancing once more towards the cottage hidden by trees in the distance.

She’s safe. That is all that matters.

Turning his horse towards the narrow, well-worn path, he urged it forward. The trail wound through thick woodlands and he kept the pace measured, unwilling to risk the horse’s footing on the uneven ground. The rhythmic clop of hooves and the faint scent of damp earth filled the air, his mind drifting between thoughts of duty and the woman he’d left behind.

When the trees finally broke into a wide clearing, Jude gave his horse its head. The animal surged forward with a burst of power, hooves pounding against the frozen soil as the wind rushed past his ears. His heart quickened—not just from the ride, but from the sight that rose before him.

Ashmoore Hall.

His ancestral home loomed across the slope, stately and dignified, its honeyed stone glowing faintly in the morning light. Every duke before his father had left his mark upon the structure—an east-facing terrace here, ornamental gardens there—but it was his father who had added the grand west wing, complete with marble floors and towering windows. It was beautiful, formidable… and for Jude, suffocating.

As he approached the gravel drive, the horse slowed, snorting softly. Jude reined in and dismounted, his boots crunching against the frost. A liveried footman appeared almost instantly, bowing low.

“My lord,” the young man greeted.

Jude handed over the reins. “See that he’s brushed down and given oats. He’s earned it.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Jude strode towards the great oak doors, which swung open before he reached them. His butler, Glover, stood waiting. He was immaculate as always, his dark hair smoothed back, not a crease in his waistcoat.

“My lord,” Glover said with a precise bow. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you, Glover.” Jude stepped inside, shrugging off his gloves. The familiar scent of polished wood and beeswax greeted him. He extended his gloves to the butler. “I’ve had a situation arise that requires discretion and your assistance.”