Page 76 of A Troublesome Circumstance

Josephine glanced towards the window. “What if I climbed out the window and ran far, far away?”

“And where would you go?”

She sighed heavily. “I don’t know.”

“Exactly.” Martha opened the wardrobe and retrieved a pale blue gown with a white net overlay. “If you want my sympathy, you do not have it. I heard the Duke of Ashmoore is also coming.”

“That makes it worse. Now I must be on my best behavior.”

“Come, my lady. Let us dress you for battle.”

After her hair was piled elegantly atop her head, Josephine left her bedchamber dressed in her blue gown. She drew a steadying breath as she headed towards the entry hall.

Just before turning the corner, she heard a voice and came to an abrupt stop.

His voice.

Jude.

Her heart gave a treacherous flutter, but she ruthlessly ignored it. She would not allow her emotions to dictate her life.

Lifting her chin, Josephine turned the corner.

There, speaking to her mother, stood Jude and the Duke of Ashmoore himself. But what caught Josephine’s attention most was not Jude, but her mother.

Her mother was staring at the duke… with interest. Genuine interest.

Well. That was unexpected.

Jude saw her first. His gaze lifted, and his lips parted slightly as he watched her descend the stairs. She hoped—desperately—that she would not trip on her hem and go tumbling into disgrace.

When she reached the final step, Jude gave a polished bow. “My lady.”

She curtsied, knowing what was expected of her. “My lord.”

The duke smiled warmly at her. “You have grown into a beautiful young woman.”

Josephine returned the smile, though her nerves danced wildly beneath her skin. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“I am not at all surprised,” the duke said, turning his attention to her mother with a look far too admiring. “Considering how lovely your mother is.”

Her mother flushed—actually flushed. “That is most kind of you to say,” she replied.

“It is merely the truth,” he continued.

Josephine blinked, then blinked again. She had never seen her mother react so to a gentleman.

And Jude—Jude was watching the exchange like a hawk, as though trying to determine what on earth was happening.

Alexander’s voice cut through the corridor. “Your Grace. Pendryn.”

Jude inclined his head politely. “Redden.”

But Alexander barely acknowledged him. His attention was fixed entirely on the Duke of Ashmoore. “We are so pleased you decided to join us this evening.”

The duke tipped his head with easy grace. “Thank you for allowing me to accompany Jude.”

“I was hoping,” Alexander said, crossing his arms and leaning in as though he were about to discuss some grand piece of Parliament gossip, “to inquire how you intend to vote on the Housing Bill.”