Page 47 of A Troublesome Circumstance

Josephine turned her face towards the window, the rolling countryside blurring past. The tension in the coach pressed upon her like a weight, and for one wistful moment she longed for the quiet of the cottage—the crackle of the fire, the scent of pine, the steady, calming presence of Jude.

There, she had not been a marquess’s daughter or a failed debutante. She had simply been herself. No gossip, no judgment, no false smiles.

If only she could have stayed there a little longer—just one more evening beside him—before duty and expectation closed in once more.

By the time their coach finally rattled to a halt in front of the family’s townhouse in Mayfair, the last rays of sunlight were slipping below the rooftops. Josephine’s head throbbed from the long journey and from the incessant sound of her brother’s voice. She had spent the better part of the afternoon debating whether shooting Alexander with the muff pistol Jude had given her would be entirely unreasonable. It would certainly bring her a measure of satisfaction, though she suspected it might also invite greater complications.

No, she decided as the footman swung open the coach door. Better to lift her chin, preserve her dignity, and pretend her brother’s mere presence did not aggravate her beyond bearing.

How could he—her own brother—believe Mr. Broderick over her? The man had abducted her and tried to take her to Gretna Green, for heaven’s sake, and yet Alexander had chosen loyalty to an old school friend over faith in his own sister’s word.

Alexander stepped down from the coach first, offering a hand to assist their mother and then to her. Josephine ignored it entirely, gathering her skirts and descending on her own. The brief flare of satisfaction she felt at the flicker of irritation on his face was petty, she knew, but she was in no mood to be magnanimous.

The butler, Dupree, appeared in the entryway as they crossed the marble threshold. His head was shiny under the hall’s chandelier, and his expression was as unreadable as ever. “Welcome home, my lady,” he greeted, bowing slightly.

“Thank you, Dupree,” Josephine responded.

Her mother sighed softly. “I am utterly exhausted from our travels. I believe I shall retire before dinner.”

“I think I shall do the same,” Josephine said, though in truth, her blood was still humming with frustration.

Alexander made a sound that was part scoff, part huff.

Josephine turned towards him slowly, one brow arching. “Is there something you wish to say, Brother?”

“I merely find it curious that you are tired after a day of doing nothing,” he remarked, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve. “I find sitting so long in a coach invigorates me.”

“Well,” she replied sweetly, “how fortunate that you are so easily invigorated. I, on the other hand, prefer peace and quiet.”

He ignored the jab and leaned in to kiss their mother’s cheek. “Rest well, Mother. I shall dine at my club this evening.”

“That is disappointing,” their mother said, her voice faint with weariness. “I had invited your Uncle Leroy to join us. Will you not reconsider?”

“I’m afraid not,” Alexander replied, already shrugging into his coat. “But I hope you enjoy your evening.”

Their mother smiled weakly. “I understand.”

“I do not,” Josephine stated. “Why you insist on dining at that dreadful club when we have an excellent cook right here is beyond me.”

“Leave it be, Josephine,” her mother said.

Alexander gave a stiff bow. “Enjoy your evening, ladies,” he responded, striding out the door.

The silence that followed made her pulse thrum with restrained words. “Why do you let him do whatever he pleases?” she demanded.

Her mother’s shoulders sank slightly. “He is young still, and the burden of being a marquess weighs heavily. We must give him grace.”

Josephine folded her arms. “And yet he shows none to me.”

Her mother laid a hand on her sleeve. “He loves you, dearest. But being a marquess comes with expectations neither of us can quite comprehend.”

“So that excuses his arrogance?”

“No,” her mother responded, “but kindness, my love, often accomplishes what anger cannot.”

Josephine looked away, her jaw tightening. “Alexander does not believe I was abducted, but you do, don’t you?”

Her mother’s gaze softened. “Of course I do. But Alexander has been friends with Mr. Broderick since their Eton days. Give him time to see sense. He will come around.”