Page 52 of A Troublesome Circumstance

“Well, do you intend to go to Lady Penning’s masquerade ball this evening?” Rupert asked, rising and straightening his waistcoat. “It is to be the event of the Season. And there is a fair chance that Lady Josephine Tweedale will be there with her family.”

“I have no desire to go to a ball. Least of all a masquerade.”

“Pity,” Rupert responded. “It would be the perfect opportunity for a certain gamekeeper to keep watch over a certain beautiful lady—all under the guise of a mask.”

Jude shot him a flat look. “What do you propose I do at midnight when everyone removes their masks?”

Rupert’s grin was insufferably smug. “Simple. You slip out just before the unveiling. Your secret identity remains intact, and the lady never need know you were there.”

Jude’s fingers drummed against the table. “I am not entirely sure that is a good idea.”

“Probably not, but you would be ensuring her safety,” Rupert said. “Besides, it would make your father immensely happy if you attended.”

“That it would,” he said grudgingly.

Rupert grinned. “Then my work here is done, my friend. Go, be dutiful, and perhaps even enjoy yourself. Stranger things have happened.”

“Not to me,” Jude muttered.

When Rupert was gone, he tossed back the remainder of his drink and rose.

Outside, the evening air was cool and smelled faintly of rain. His horse was brought round, and he mounted in one smooth motion. The rhythmic clatter of hooves against the cobblestones filled the silence as he rode through the lamplit streets towards his townhouse in Grosvenor Square.

By the time he reached home, he was almost reluctant to dismount. The townhouse loomed before him, grand and unwelcoming, the kind of house that whispered of lineage and expectation. A groom hurried forward to take his reins.

“Welcome home, my lord.”

Jude acknowledged the man with a nod of his head and ascended the steps two at a time, pushing open the front door. He barely had time to remove his gloves before his father’s voice bellowed from the corridor.

“There you are.”

Jude turned to see the Duke of Ashmoore striding towards him, imposing as ever in his dark coat and starched cravat.

“Here I am,” Jude responded.

“I expected you hours ago,” the duke said. “Were there difficulties on the road?”

“No, Father,” Jude replied. “I stopped at White’s.”

His father’s frown deepened. “I would have preferred you not waste time dilly-dallying at your club. We have a ball to attend this evening—Lady Penning’s.”

Jude started towards the stairs. “Yes. I am aware. I’ll go change.”

The duke folded his arms. “Just like that?”

Jude paused on the first step and looked over his shoulder. “You expected something different?”

“I expected an argument,” his father said, eyeing him suspiciously. “You rarely concede so easily.”

“Well,” Jude responded, “I am full of surprises this evening.” He inclined his head. “If you’ll excuse me, I should prepare.”

He had only taken a few more steps before his father’s voice halted him again. “Tell me something, Jude.”

Jude stopped, one hand gripping the banister.

“Did you find what you were looking for in that cottage?” the duke asked, his tone holding compassion.

A flicker of warmth stirred in Jude’s chest, unbidden. Josephine’s face came to him again, and he almost smiled.