Page 46 of A Troublesome Circumstance

“And where is your wife?” she demanded. “You are five years older than I and have yet to wed yourself.”

“It is different for gentlemen.”

“It shouldn’t be,” she shot back.

“Enough!” their mother exclaimed, exasperated. “Both of you! We are family. We must speak with love and respect.”

Josephine turned away and pressed her forehead to the cool glass. She was done. Words were useless against her brother’s stubborn pride. If even her own family doubted her, what chance did she have of being believed by anyone else?

The coach jolted violently as it struck a rut in the road. Josephine braced her hand against the wall to steady herself.

“Such a lovely gown you have on,” her mother said hastily, trying to mend what could not be mended.

Josephine glanced down at the gown. “It belonged to the late duchess. Her maid insisted I take it.”

“And what of your ballgown?” Alexander asked in disbelief. “The one I paid an exorbitant sum for.”

“It was ruined when I jumped from a moving carriage to escape Mr. Broderick,” Josephine said. She did not even bother to temper the annoyance that pulsed beneath every word.

Her mother released a weary sigh, pressing a gloved hand to her temple as though the conversation itself gave her a headache. “I do hope you two will behave at the masquerade ball tomorrow night.”

Josephine stiffened. “I have no desire to go to a ball.” The very thought of it made her stomach twist.

“You had better go,” Alexander remarked. “You have an entire wardrobe of ballgowns that I paid for. I would hate for my money to go to waste.”

Josephine’s retort sat ready on her tongue, but her mother spoke before she could release it. “You must go, dearest. If anyone did notice you leaving the ball with Mr. Broderick, your attendance tomorrow would quiet the gossip. Let them see you laughing and unbothered, and certainly without him at your side.”

As much as Josephine hated to admit it, her mother was right. “Very well. I will attend. But do not expect me to enjoy myself.”

“Perhaps you will hide away in the library, as you usually do at such gatherings,” Alexander said.

“You know about that?” she asked.

“I may be in the card room, but I do hear things,” he said with smug satisfaction.

Her brow furrowed. “How did you even notice I was missing that night, then?”

“Uncle Leroy saw you depart the ballroom,” her mother explained. “When you did not return, he grew concerned and told me. I sent Alexander to look for you.”

Josephine turned her gaze pointedly towards her brother, her lips curling in mock sweetness. “I am sorry to have pulled you away from such an important pursuit as gaming with your gentleman friends.”

Alexander gave an exaggerated sigh. “You should be. I folded my hand prematurely and lost ten pounds because of you.”

“Take it out of my pin money, then.”

He barked out a laugh. “That would take years. I rather hope you will be married before then.”

Josephine tilted her chin, her pride flaring. “Father’s will stipulates that I inherit my dowry upon my six-and-twentieth birthday. I shall manage perfectly well without your benevolence.”

Alexander settled back into his seat. “So I must endure you draining the household coffers for another six years. How delightful.”

Their mother’s patience finally snapped. She waved her hand sharply, her tone clipped. “Enough. The both of you are behaving like wretched children. I believe it would be best if we rode the remainder of the way in silence.”

“I agree,” Josephine said, folding her hands in her lap.

Alexander’s dark eyes met hers. “As do I.”

“At least you two can agree on something,” their mother muttered, sinking back against the seat with a resigned sigh.