A Chance Encounter: A rash decision changes their lives forever.

by Buck, Gayle

  “Oh.” Miss Chadwick thought she understood the problem. The viscount was suffering from an overweening sense of honor, and instead of seeing that he must tackle the problem head-on, he was instead reaching desperately for straws and in his inebriated state he had latched on to the ludicrous notion of eloping with her.

  As she saw it, she had only to convey to the viscount that he was not obligated to marry the lady that he so obviously detested if he had not actually offered for her. He would naturally be very grateful to her and then no doubt he would sheepishly turn the carriage around and take her safely home. Accordingly, Miss Chadwick bent herself to the task of pointing out the realities to the viscount. “My lord, I gather that you have not actually offered for the lady in question yourself. Am I correct in that assumption?”

  The viscount shrugged a brusque assent.

  Miss Chadwick smiled as she let out a sigh of relief. “My lord, then you need not wed her. You have only to explain to your parents that you prefer to look about for a bride of your own choosing. I am certain that none but the most tyrannical of parents would actually expect you to make good on a foolish promise exchanged so many years ago. And as for Miss Ratcliffe, she might very well be grateful on her own count to be freed of such an onerous duty.”

  Lord Humphrey snorted derision. “You don’t know Augusta or you would not say anything by half so silly. Augusta has been thinking herself lady of the manor for all of ten years or more, ever since she got her figure. She has turned down scores of offers. She means to have me,” he said gloomily. “If I was to cry off as you suggest, the rarest dust-up would be kicked up, and not just by Augusta but also by my parents and my godparents as well.”

  Miss Chadwick was momentarily silenced. His lordship’s misery at the thought of his seemingly unavoidable future was obvious. She said sympathetically, “Oh dear, it is a pretty coil, isn’t it? One does hate to be the object of filial displeasure, naturally. I suppose that you cannot appeal to Miss Ratcliffe’s finer nature?”

  At that Lord Humphrey gave a crack of genuine laughter. He threw an impatient glance at his companion. “Her finer nature! That’s rich, by Jove! No, mine is much the better plan. I shall present them all with a fait accompli. There cannot be much said once the knot is tied, you know.”

  Miss Chadwick could think of several things that could be said and none of them either comfortable or complimentary to herself. “My lord, I simply cannot marry you,” she said determinedly.

  Lord Humphrey looked at her again. There was an anxious expression in his gray eyes. “You have not taken an aversion to me, surely?”

  “No, of course not. Why should I?” Miss Chadwick asked, and then she bethought herself of several very good reasons. Her own fine brown eyes kindled with righteous anger. “Though I do not know why I should not, when you have actually abducted me. Yes, and have forced me into an intolerable position where I shall have to explain my tardiness to my host and hostess. Why, I shall be fortunate if they do not condemn me for a forward hussy who actually connived to be run down by your lordship’s carriage. Indeed, I shall be fortunate if my reputation survives this adventure intact.”

  The viscount looked much stricken, but then his brow cleared. “No, they won’t, for the next time that you have occasion to see them, they will be bowing and scraping and addressing you as ‘my lady,’” he said confidently.

  A horrible thought struck him. He threw her a stem look. “Mind, I have nothing to say against anyone who is kind enough to take in someone who is a bit down on their luck. But I’ll not have a rum set running tame about the place. A visit from these friends of yours once or twice a year is all to which I shall agree. Of course, you may visit them as often as you wish.”

  Miss Chadwick was pardonably exasperated. “Really, my lord! Mr. and Mrs. Percy are very worthy, but certainly not cut of the same cloth as your own acquaintances. As though I would not have the sense to know that different sorts of company will not mix.”

  She realized that she had fallen into the trap of sharing in the viscount’s delusion. She recovered herself quickly. “In any event, the question shall not arise. I shall not marry you, whatever the state my reputation is left in at your hands,” she said resolutely.

  The viscount’s frown deepened and there appeared a somewhat chilly note in his voice. “I shall not leave you ruined, if that is what you fear. I am no libertine, at least,” he said swiftly.

  “No, I am sure that you are not. I never meant to intimate such a thing,” said Miss Chadwick, appalled by her own inadvertent faux pas. She gathered herself together. The viscount had an unaccountable way of rattling her self-possession. She supposed it was because she was unused to the ways of gentlemen and their odd ways of thought. “My lord, I beg you once more. Pray set me down. I should make you a very bad wife, you know. I am not at all fashionable or witty or beautiful.”

  “I don’t want fashion or wit or beauty. I can have all that in Miss Ratcliffe,” said the viscount crushingly. He apparently realized that he had not been exactly complimentary. “I say, I do beg your pardon. My tongue seems to run on without my consent. Your features are actually rather pleasing, as I said before. And I am certain that you can be quite witty, since you are something of a bluestocking and all.”

  “Thank you, I am sure,” Miss Chadwick said in a wooden voice.

  Lord Humphrey saw that he had deeply offended the lady, and since it was not in his nature to deliberately inflict hurt on another, he attempted to make further amends. “I daresay you would like to be married to me. I am rather plump in the pocket and I wouldn’t be stingy with your allowance, you know.” He paused to gauge her reaction, and when none was forthcoming, he added, “You could be as extravagant as you chose and I would not breathe a word against it. At least I should try not to, at all events.”

  “Very good of you, I am sure,’’ said Miss Chadwick. She was looking at him now and there was the trace of a smile upon her face.

  Encouraged, Lord Humphrey pressed home his point. “And of course there is the advantage of social position. That is what Miss Ratcliffe finds so attractive about me, I suspect. She would eventually be the Countess of Dewesbury and mistress of Dewesbury Court, which is a grand sprawling place. Mind you, I am not all that fond of the older section of the house. It is too damp and dark for my taste, besides being haunted.”

  “Haunted?” Now Miss Chadwick looked at him wide-eyed. “Surely not!”

  “Quite, quite haunted,” Lord Humphrey said cheerfully. “Some Tudor ancestor of mine lost his head to the headsman’s ax and he has had the bad taste to roam the halls for centuries, his severed head under his arm, while groaning in the most heart-rending fashion.”

  Miss Chadwick shuddered, her lively imagination calling a vivid vision to her mind. “No, I don’t wonder that you do not care for that part of the house.” She suddenly recalled the point of their discussion as she watched the last sinking of the sun beyond the hedges. The lateness of the hour brought her renewed anxiety. “I don’t care for all that, my lord. Unlike your Miss Ratcliffe, I would be quite content in a small cottage to call my own.”

  “She is not my Miss Ratcliffe,” Lord Humphrey said, revolted.

  “I beg your pardon,” Joan said meekly, recognizing that she had given grave offense.

  “Yes, well.” The viscount grudgingly accepted her apology. “I don’t care for her overmuch, you see. She treats me much like a pet pug, giving me only an absent pat now and then until she wants something of me,” he said by way of explanation.

  “How awful. But I know exactly what you mean. I once had a friend—at least, I thought she was my friend. In any event, for a while I was indispensable to her. I was always willing to stand in for her whenever she took it into her head to cast off an old beau in favor of a new one. I was her most trusted confidante and she, mine.”

  Joan reflected a moment before she sighed. “I was most disappointed in her after my papa died. When I went into mourning, she had not
much use for my company. In fact, I did not see her above a half-dozen times after that, and on those occasions it was I who called upon her. I doubt that I was ever missed when I came to stay with the Percys.”

  Lord Humphrey reached out his gloved hand and put his fingers over her tightly clenched fingers where they curled for purchase under the seat. “You will not be subject to such glaring distress again, I promise you. As my wife, you will naturally be entitled to every comfort.”

  Joan was shocked by his lordship’s intimate gesture, but she was touched as well. It spoke well of his own sensitivity to discern her old hurt and attempt to reassure her. However, she could have wished that his reassurance did not stem from his continued delusion that she was going to wed him. She removed her hand from the warmth of his clasp and reached across herself to grasp the seat railing so that she held it with both hands.

  Lord Humphrey felt dimly that something more was called for from himself. He frowned deeply, then his brow cleared. “You did say that you had no objections, Miss Chadwick,’’ he reminded her triumphantly.

  “I didn’t know what I wasn’t objecting to,” Joan exclaimed, rather incoherently. His lordship was frowning again, apparently attempting to puzzle out her meaning, and she tried again. “My lord, how can you persist in this foolish notion? Surely you must see that I cannot possibly become your wife. The differences in our stations in life, your own averred commitment to an old family promise, the obvious scandal that must arise out of an elopement—why, sir, the objections against such a union are innumerable. I agree wholeheartedly that it was very bad of your lordship’s parents to bind you over to Miss Ratcliffe without inquiring your preferences . . . well, actually, they hardly could do so if you were indeed in short coats. But it is the height of unwisdom to marry the first available female in order to save yourself from an unwanted connection.”

  Lord Humphrey laughed recklessly. “Anything is preferable to spending a lifetime with Augusta, my girl.”

  Miss Chadwick persisted in her efforts to dissuade him, but none of her arguments had the desired effect. Finally she quite lost her temper and she threatened to jump from the carriage if his lordship did not instantly set her down. The viscount rather maddeningly pointed out that she would then have a broken neck in addition to her sprained ankle and he earnestly advised her against such a drastic measure.

  Miss Chadwick heaved an exasperated sigh. “I see that you are set on this course and nothing I say will persuade you from it. But at least attend to me this much, my lord. Seek out a lady of your own social standing, one who is compatible to you in ways that I am not by birth or training equipped to become. I beg you, my lord, do think of it.”

  A mulish set settled across his lordship’s countenance. “I have thought upon it. I consider you most suitable, Miss Chadwick, and to Gretna we shall go.”

  She saw that he was not quite rational and she rightfully blamed the strong liquor that he had obviously been privy to. “Then at least think of your horses, my lord. At this rate, you are likely to drive them into the ground,” she said with asperity.

  Lord Humphrey threw an astonished glance at her. He smiled with what she realized was sincere gratitude. He said in a confiding way, “Damn if I did not give a thought to my cattle. It must be the brandy, you know. I seem not to be as needle-witted as I should be. You are perfectly right, of course. We must switch over the team at some point.” He frowned suddenly at the thought. “I had meant to stop over at my estate, but now I quite see that will not do.”

  “I hardly think that my reputation will suffer much worse than it already has if I was to be seen by your lordship’s servants,” said Miss Chadwick tartly.

  Though she shrank from the obvious conclusions that must be drawn by anyone who chanced to see her in the viscount’s company, unchaperoned and her cloak muddied as it was, she was infinitely grateful to know that she would be shortly set down someplace where there would be reasonable ears to hear her request to be taken back to her home.

  However, her comforting hopes were swiftly dashed.

  “No, it wouldn’t do at all to stop there,’’ said the viscount decisively. “Hickham, a proper stiff-rumped butler if ever there was, has known me since the cradle and would instantly send word to the earl and my mother about this escapade, and that would put snuff to it.” He nodded. “We’ll go to the Swan instead. I have never stopped there, so there is but the slightest chance of running into some acquaintance of my parents’ or of my own. It is rather farther than I like for my cattle to travel in one journey, but that cannot be helped at this stage in the game. We should be able to change out my cattle for a decent team that will carry us the remainder of the way.”

  Joan was all the more convinced of the viscount’s inability to reason clearly, though he was showing a remarkable and frightening ability to the contrary when it came to bringing about the conclusion of his fantastic scheme.

  Completely talked out, she subsided silently on the seat. She hoped that as the miles passed, his head would clear of brandy fumes and he would finally come to realize the ludicrous nature of his plan.

  Chapter Three

  The conversation between Miss Chadwick and the viscount never resumed.

  The viscount alternated the pace of his team in an effort, Miss Chadwick recognized, to draw out his horses’ stamina to the longest possible duration. She hoped that the viscount’s uninterrupted reflections were giving his thoughts the desired turn and she held herself as still as possible so as not to divert him.

  As the miles unrolled and dusk turned to deep night, Miss Chadwick also had time in which to reflect. Her spirited conversation with his lordship had opened avenues of thought that she had previously repressed, in the knowledge that unfounded hopes would cause her only dissatisfaction.

  Her situation was one that was certainly not much to her liking, but seeing no alternative, she had resigned herself to it. Joan knew herself to be ill-suited to go into service. She was far too educated and gently reared to ever fit easily into the hierarchical servants’ world. She had thus favored the professions that she had mentioned to his lordship. But now she questioned her own wisdom.

  As a young girl, Joan had often entertained the thought of marriage, and like any other young maiden, she had daydreamed of the perfect gentleman with which she would share romantic bliss. But no suitable young gentleman had appeared on her horizon. Certainly she had received a handful of suitors, but none had struck the proper chord with her. Now at one-and-twenty, Joan had quite accepted her spinster status with a matter-of-factness that bespoke intelligence and a healthy grasp of reality. It was that same levelheadedness that had brought her to the unenviable conclusion that she could not remain forever upon the charity of her friends. Instead, she should seek out her own fortunes, and in all likelihood her life would henceforth be spent in the service of others.

  However, with the viscount’s offer, a fantastic possibility was opened up for her perusal. Joan was not insensible of the incredible changes that would be rendered in her life if she were to take his lordship’s intentions seriously. After all, the viscount had taken pains to enumerate some of them, and she could easily envision others. At one stroke, she could exchange the gray servitude and dependence of the governess’s life for that of a viscountess.

  Miss Chadwick’s imagination was an active one, and the visions of luxury and ease that were conjured up for her mind’s eyes were dizzying. She was sorely tempted; oh, yes, she admitted that she was most truly tempted to accept his lordship’s bizarre offer.

  Joan slid a sideways glance at the gentleman seated beside her.

  The moon had come up, a great cold orb, making it quite easy for the viscount to see the road. He made use of the silver light by putting his horses along at a comfortable pace.

  His lordship’s profile was readily defined against the backdrop of the dark hedges sweeping by. The brim of his beaver hat shaded his eyes from her in the uncertain light, but she was easily able to mak
e out his profile. His brow and aquiline nose were well-formed, a pleasing and proper accompaniment to his firmly held mouth and determined chin.

  The viscount seemed to feel her regard. He turned his head, and upon meeting her eyes, he gave a brief smile of acknowledgment before returning his attention to the task of driving.

  Miss Chadwick’s heart turned over in her breast. There had been genuine warmth and charm in his lordship’s fleeting smile. She sighed. The viscount would undoubtedly be an unexacting and pleasant husband. It was a pity that she could not accept his outrageous proposal. For a few moments longer, she allowed herself to toy with the fantasy of becoming the viscount’s wife. Her mind whispered that such indulgence could do no harm. Indeed, it would be a pleasant daydream with which to brighten the tedium of her days after she had accepted a suitable post.

  Under such reflection and comparison, it was little wonder that the viscount’s proposal became steadily more attractive to her. She had already formed a good estimation of his character and his personality. There was nothing to disgust her in either, and certainly what little she had been able to discern of his physical attributes appealed to her, she mused.

  Miss Chadwick was appalled by the shocking turn of her thoughts. She could not possibly think of accepting his lordship’s ludicrous solution to both their futures. It would be unthinkable to take such advantage of the gentleman.

  Nevertheless, by the time that Lord Humphrey turned the phaeton into an inn yard, Miss Chadwick was half-wishing that she had indeed accepted his extraordinary offer. But certainly it was out of the question to take up an offer from a gentleman who was so obviously inebriated and who was therefore not in his proper senses. Miss Chadwick suppressed a sigh. Her renewed resolution left her with a forlorn feeling that she discovered she had difficulty in overcoming.

  Lord Humphrey snubbed the reins, calling for an ostler at the top of his voice. When that person emerged from his quarters, rubbing his eyes and yawning, the viscount jumped down from the phaeton. He gave his orders regarding the team before going around the phaeton to offer Miss Chadwick assistance in descending. She practically tumbled into his arms when her ankle would not support her weight.