Page 7 of A Troublesome Circumstance

She hesitated, then asked, “Whose land are we on?”

“The Duke of Ashmoore’s.”

Her head lifted in surprise. “Truly? I met the duke once. He visited my mother after my father died. He was kind… considerate. My father always spoke highly of him.”

“I’m sorry about your father.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, sinking onto the edge of the bed. “It’s been many years, but that doesn’t make it easier, does it?”

“No,” he agreed. “My mother died a few years ago. I still miss her every day.”

Josephine’s chest tightened with empathy. “My father was an honorable man,” she said wistfully. “I miss our talks at supper, his steady presence and his firm embraces. They always made me feel safe. Protected.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “May I ask you something?”

“That depends on what it is.”

“How did you end up here? Torn gown, bleeding forehead, alone in the woods?”

Her body went rigid. “It doesn’t matter. I just… am.”

He held up his hands again, palms outward. “You don’t have to tell me. But perhaps I could help.”

“That’s kind of you,” she said, “but unnecessary. I’ll be leaving the moment the rain lets up.”

“And then what?”

She lifted her chin, feigning confidence she did not feel. “You needn’t worry about me. I’ll manage.”

He studied her for a moment longer, then leaned back in his chair. “Do as you please. It’s probably better that way.”

Guilt pricked at her. She sounded ungrateful, and he had been nothing but decent. “Thank you,” she said after a moment. “For everything. I would have frozen in that stable without you.”

He turned his head, giving her a wry smile. “It was nothing.”

“To you, perhaps,” she said, “but to me—it was everything.”

He nodded once, then after a pause, asked, “Dare I ask your name?”

She hesitated. Should she tell him? What harm could it do? “My name is Josephine.”

He tipped his head slightly. “It’s nice to meet you, Josephine. My name is Jude.”

“Hello, Jude.” A yawn escaped her before she could stop it.

A glimmer of amusement entered his eyes. “I daresay you’re exhausted. Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake.”

The reassurance was unexpected, and oddly comforting. She lay down, pulling the quilt around her shoulders. For a long moment, she simply listened to the rain and the crackling fire. Yet sleep refused to come.

“How long have you been the gamekeeper?” she asked.

There was a pause. “Not long.”

“Do you like it here? Living in the middle of nowhere?”

“I do,” he said. “This cottage was built for the duke’s use when he wanted solitude. Few people even know it exists.”

“That was generous of him to let you stay.”