Page 2 of A Troublesome Circumstance

Drat.

She wanted to knock, to beg for help, but the thought of being discovered alone in a man’s dwelling sent a chill of dread down her spine. Even if she escaped Mr. Broderick, the scandal of such impropriety could ruin her utterly. Perhaps it already had. If word had spread about her abduction… no. She wouldn’t dwell on that. Not now.

Her strength was failing. She sank down beside the outer wall, pressing her back to the rough stone. The cold bit through her gown.

She needed shelter—just until dawn.

Then she spotted a small stable beyond the cottage, half-hidden by trees. Relief washed through her. She rose and crossed the clearing, slipping inside through the door. The scent of hay and horse filled the air. A single black stallion stood in a stall, its intelligent eyes watching her with mild curiosity.

Josephine lifted a trembling hand. “Easy now,” she whispered. The horse flicked an ear, then stepped forward, allowing her to stroke its sleek neck.

“You’re a beauty,” she murmured. “Do you mind if I rest here for a time? I promise not to disturb you.”

The horse let out a low, approving nicker.

Josephine managed a small, weary laugh. “Thank you, kind sir.”

Her gaze drifted towards a mound of hay piled in the next stall, a pitchfork leaning against the wall. She reached for the pitchfork—just in case—and settled down upon the hay.

The moment she lay back, exhaustion swept through her like a tide. Her body ached and her eyelids grew unbearably heavy.

“Just for a few moments,” she said to herself. “Then I’ll move on.”

But the warmth of the stable, the steady rhythm of the horse’s breathing, and the soft rustle of the wind through the cracks in the wall lulled her under.

Before she could think another thought, sleep claimed her.

Jude Dexter, Earl of Pendryn, startled awake to the sound of the stable door slamming against its frame. Once. Twice. Then again. The wind howled through the trees outside, shaking the shutters on his small cottage.

“Botheration,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “Blasted door again.”

He must not have latched it properly after putting up the horse earlier. The last thing he needed was a fox—or worse, a wild dog—getting inside.

With a groan, he pushed himself up from the armchair that had become his bed these past few nights. His neck ached from the awkward angle, and his back protested as he stretched. The proper bed stood across the room, rumpled but empty, a silent rebuke. He couldn’t bring himself to use it much anymore. Not when sleep meant dreams—dark ones filled with faces and voices he’d rather forget.

And always hers.

Lady Gwendolyn.

The name alone made something sour twist in his chest. Fool that he’d been, he had once imagined a future with her—until he’d overheard her bragging to her friends about how she ensnared an heir to a dukedom. He had walked away from her that night and had not looked back since.

“Better off without her,” he muttered, though the words rang hollow in the lonely cottage.

He pulled on his Hessian boots and reached for the rifle leaning against the wall. The barrel was cold beneath his fingers. It was best to be cautious since there was no telling what creatures might be skulking about in the dark.

When he opened the door, the chilly wind hit him full in the face. The smell of damp earth and pine filled his lungs as he stepped into the night. Moonlight silvered the clearing, casting long shadows from the trees that surrounded the small property.

As he neared the stable, the door banged again. He reached for it—and froze.

Footprints. Small, muddy ones, pressed into the straw and leading inside.

“What in the blazes?” Jude tightened his hold on the rifle. He was certain those hadn’t been there earlier.

He stepped quietly through the open doorway, his boots muffled by hay. He scanned the interior. Moonlight filtered through cracks in the walls, illuminating his stallion in his stall and something else.

A shape. Small. Still.

Someone was lying on the hay pile near the far wall.