Page 62 of A Troublesome Circumstance

Her breath caught.

There—across the room, half-shadowed by a marble column—stood Jude, a drink in his hand, speaking to a man she did not recognize. He looked entirely at ease, as though masquerade balls were his natural habitat.

He must have felt her gaze because he glanced over and lifted his glass to her. Heat flooded her cheeks. She snapped her head away, mortified to be caught staring.

Once the set ended, Alexander returned with Lady Gwendolyn on his arm.

“How was your dance?” their mother asked.

“It was wonderful,” Lady Gwendolyn declared, leaning closer to Alexander. “Your son is a remarkable dancer.”

“I take it he didn’t step on your feet?” Josephine asked.

“Oh, no,” Lady Gwendolyn said sweetly. “He is far too graceful for that.” Her eyes narrowed on Josephine. “Did no one ask you to dance?”

Josephine stiffened. That was not a question but rather an insult. “No,” she replied. “No one did.”

“That is a shame,” Lady Gwendolyn replied. “Perhaps if your mask were not quite so ridiculous, you might be noticed.” Her gaze flicked over Josephine’s gown. “Your dress is… adequate.”

“Thank you,” Josephine said, biting back the retort burning on her tongue. Adequate. She had designed this gown herself. She thought it beautiful.

But Lady Gwendolyn was already looking past her—towards Jude. “It is him,” she murmured.

Josephine’s stomach dropped. Did she know Jude was a gamekeeper? Did she know he didn’t belong at the ball?

Lady Gwendolyn swatted Alexander’s arm. “It is Lord Pendryn.”

“That is impossible,” Alexander said. “He left Town weeks ago. No one has heard from him since.”

“He has returned,” she insisted.

Josephine’s heart hammered. Lady Gwendolyn must be mistaken. Jude was not Lord Pendryn—he could not be. But if Lady Gwendolyn approached him claiming he was the earl…

his disguise—his life—could be exposed.

“Even if it is him,” Josephine said quickly, “we should leave him be.”

“That is easy for you to say,” Lady Gwendolyn snapped. “He pursued me, then abandoned me when everyone expected him to propose.”

Alexander patted her hand. “It has worked out for the best, has it not?”

Lady Gwendolyn’s expression turned solemn. “Yes… but I must see if it is truly him,” she said, starting forward.

Josephine stepped in front of her. “Allow me to speak with him first.”

“Why?” Lady Gwendolyn demanded.

“To ensure it is Lord Pendryn.”

“There is no need.” With a dismissive brush of her skirts, Lady Gwendolyn swept past her. “I would know his bearing anywhere.”

Josephine followed, panic rising in her throat. She had to find a way—any way—to protect Jude.

But Lady Gwendolyn reached him first.

“Lord Pendryn,” she said in a firm, triumphant voice.

Jude turned. His eyes went wide—genuinely wide. “Lady Gwendolyn.”