Page 91 of A Troublesome Circumstance

“I am,” he insisted. “I want you in my life. And I will take you as you are. Stubborn. Vexing. And all.”

A helpless laugh escaped her. “You are far more vexing than I.”

He lifted his chin with mock pride. “We shall have to agree to disagree.”

She toyed with the strings of her bonnet. “How do you propose we move forward?”

Jude straightened, his eyes earnest. “Well… if this is going to work, you will have to forgive me for lying about being a gamekeeper.”

She inhaled deeply. “I am willing to forgive you. Assuming you never lie to me again.”

He nodded immediately. “I can agree to that.”

A small smile formed on her lips. “Then we are friends once more.”

To her surprise, he frowned. “Yes. Friends,” he muttered, sounding rather put out.

She leaned forward. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he said quickly, forcing a smile that did not meet his eyes. “I was merely thinking about our kiss last night.”

Josephine’s cheeks flamed. “You should not say such things.”

“Do you not think of it?”

She could lie.

But she found she did not want to.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I have thought of it. It was… quite pleasant.”

A mischievous glint entered his eyes. “I had hoped it was more than pleasant. Perhaps we should try again—properly this time. On the lips?”

Her mouth fell open. “You are being rather scandalous suggesting such a thing.”

“Good,” he murmured, sliding across the seat to sit beside her. “At least one of us is. But truly, I wished to speak with you about something else.”

“Was it about your father and my mother,” she asked, “and how besotted they looked with one another last night?”

“You noticed that, too?”

“I did,” she replied. “It was rather obvious. But what should we do about it?”

Jude’s lips quirked. “What if you and your mother joined us for dinner this evening?”

Josephine pressed her lips together. “But we only just dined last night together. Do you not think that is far too soon? People will talk.”

“Let them,” Jude said with a casual shrug that belied the spark of mischief in his eyes. “If our theory holds true, I suspect your mother and my father won’t mind. Do you?”

“You make a valid point.”

“Wonderful,” Jude declared. “I shall inform the cook that you and your mother will be joining us this evening.”

Josephine nearly laughed—nearly. “Should we not, at the very least, ask them first?”

Jude smirked. “It is better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

“Very well. Dinner it is. For now.”