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

by Buck, Gayle

  None harbored dislike for Miss Chadwick; on the contrary, she had always been a welcome addition to any informal dinner party or romp for the young people. But that was quite a different thing from providing for a young woman until she married or her future was otherwise settled.

  Joan realized fully the loneliness of her position when she had gone to visit her father’s gravesite a bare two weeks after his untimely death. It had been a cold day, the sky a harsh gray and threatening more snow for that evening. The grave was covered in icy white crystals and against the snow someone had pressed a wreath of holly and bright-red berries.

  She stared at the fresh greenery and suddenly started to cry. It was like a wellspring was released. She had stood quite motionless, the tears sliding down her wind-bitten cheeks, and between her sobs she had gasped in the cold searing air.

  When it was over, she had known quite clearly that she could no longer remain in the neighborhood. She had been allowed to stay in the small house that she and her father had thought of as home, but before many more weeks were out, there would be engaged a new vicar who would require the house for himself and his family.

  Her naiveté had led her to assume that she would quickly establish herself and make herself useful in one of the many households that her father had served. That comfortable invitation had not materialized, and she saw no reason why the offer should come now.

  Joan had walked back to the parish house, meeting above half-a-dozen acquaintances on the way. Her heightened senses had enabled her to see what she had been previously blind to: she was greeted with courtesy and sympathy, but there was a hint of embarrassment and hurry as well. Her continued unaided presence in the neighborhood was a reproof to the vicar’s flock and one that they could undoubtedly do without.

  That evening Joan had written the Percys, who could at least be depended upon to shelter her for a time. When she had received their reply, she had boarded the mail coach without fanfare or the well wishes of anyone whom she had thought to be her friends. Thus she had left the only home that she had ever known and taken the first step toward an unknown destiny, her naiveté tempered and her eyes more discerning.

  Now as she thought over and weighed what her reception might be at the hands of the viscount’s various family members and his acquaintances, she decided that she would vastly prefer meeting his grandmother first. Perhaps, if the lady was anything as the viscount had painted her, she would be able to gather to herself the courage that she would need to face the others’ certain disapproval.

  Lord Humphrey had watched the various expressions cross her face. He had held his tongue, content to eat his breakfast in the silence of her reflections. He had also watched the dainty way in which she ate her own meal, approving of a natural grace of movement and a lack of greed in her manners. When she seemed to halfway nod to herself, he decided it was an appropriate time to bring her back to an awareness of her surroundings. “A penny for them.”

  Joan looked up at the viscount. Her husband, she corrected herself. She must begin thinking of him in such terms or the whole thing would become a hopeless mess. “I was but thinking of meeting your grandmother, and the rest. I feel very uncertain of my reception, you see. And I do not think that I shall enjoy making Miss Ratcliffe’s acquaintance at all,” she said.

  She had a gift for frank expression, he realized. Lord Humphrey smiled in recognition of it. “I do not think that she will enjoy making your acquaintance, either,” he said ruefully and just as frankly.

  Her eyes widened and then narrowed in amusement. “I had not thought of it in just that way,” she admitted. “How wonderful. I shall not be totally out of water, then.”

  Lord Humphrey found that uproariously funny and he laughed hugely. “Indeed! I almost look forward to seeing the look on the lady’s face,” he said, still grinning.

  Joan smiled at him, quite genuinely pleased that she had made him laugh. She brushed her mouth with her napkin and set it beside her emptied plate. “I am quite ready to go, my lord, if you are.”

  “That is my girl,” he said approvingly.

  He was already rising and so he did not see the swift tide of color that rose in her face. He did not give a thought to his careless endearment or how she might perceive it. Her reaction would have surprised him very much.

  The shot was paid and the viscount’s own team was reengaged to his phaeton. The viscount solicitously handed up Joan, who took her place in the middle of the seat, while next to her settled the overawed abigail.

  The viscount climbed up to sit beside his bride and took up the, leather traces. “We shall be at my grandmother’s manor house in time for tea,” he said cheerfully. He cracked the whip and they were off, bowling out of the inn’s small yard onto the road.

  Chapter Six

  At Blackhedge Manor the viscount’s grandmother was experiencing a distinct ennui. She reclined in her favorite chair beside the library fire. A small glass of sherry was easily at hand on the occasional table beside the chair and her feet were comfortably ensconced upon a hassock close to the heat.

  Lady Cassandra was two-and-seventy and had once been a great beauty. Time had not dimmed the classic bones of her face, nor the elegance of her movements. Her long fingers drummed on the tabletop as she thought over the contents of the long and involved letter that she had dropped onto her lap with a grimace of distaste. As usual, her daughter the Countess of Dewesbury had managed to bore her to frustration with her crossed and underscored verbiage.

  Not for the first time, her ladyship wondered what had she ever done to deserve such a smug, gossipy, and utterly dutiful daughter. She would vastly have preferred a little eccentricity to have cropped up in one of the five children that she had borne, but such had never materialized in any of them and they had all established themselves quite credibly with not one black sheep to tar the family name or give the rare family gatherings a little glitter.

  Lady Cassandra was not one to dwell on the vagaries of life, however. She had long ago become resigned to her own children’s lack of imagination and their dull choices of spouses. In recent years she had turned her interested eyes onto the upcoming generation; there were one or two of her numerous grandchildren who had displayed signs of the flaring passion that she had so yearned to see in her own disappointing children.

  Her thoughts returned to the subject of the countess’s letter, which was the upcoming announcement of the young viscount’s nuptials to a very worthy young lady. Lady Cassandra grimaced again, knowing very well what the phrase “a very worthy young lady” meant to her daughter. Undoubtedly the unknown young lady was of good family, socially accomplished, at least of passable looks, and well-dowered. And just as undoubtedly, I shall detest the girl, thought Lady Cassandra dourly.

  She dispassionately considered what she remembered of her grandson. Lord Edward Charles Peregrine Humphrey, viscount, heir to the earldom and to several estates, whom she had not seen in several months. She was not impressed with what she recalled. Certainly he was a handsome-enough young gentleman, and very correct in his manners and his dress.

  She snorted, thinking that it could not be otherwise when the boy’s parents were such a stodgy, worthy pair. There was not an ounce of life in the boy, obviously, since she could not bring to mind a single thread of scandal that had ever been attached to his name. And now the viscount was to marry the bride that had been chosen for him twenty years before.

  Lady Cassandra decided that she would write her man of business and attach a new codicil to her most recent will, to whit, that her grandson Lord Humphrey was to be deleted from inheritance. Thus far there were nine other such codicils, each bearing the name of one of her dull descendants. At the rate that she was going, she would have the entire company weeded out before ever she expired.

  The thought both angered and saddened her, but she stiffened her spine. “So be it, then! I shall leave everything to the gardener or my horse and hounds. At least they show a little passion for life and a
n interest in the changing of the seasons,” she announced tartly to the fire.

  The library door opened. Lady Cassandra’s butler cleared his throat, but he could not quite disguise the astonishment in his voice. “My lady. Lord Humphrey and ... a young lady.”

  Lady Cassandra slewed in the chair to look around it, her fingers digging into the arm for purchase. “Heh? What’s that, Carruthers?”

  She watched in astonishment as her grandson, Lord Humphrey, and an unknown lady came through the door and approached her. They paused in front of her chair, obviously not quite certain of their reception. They stood quite close together and he held his hand protectively over hers where she clutched his arm.

  Lady Cassandra did not even look around at the butler, so riveted was her curiosity. “You may go, Carruthers.”

  Lord Humphrey waited until the door had closed behind the butler. Then he drew forward his companion. “My lady, I should like to present to you my wife,” he said defiantly.

  Lord Humphrey’s head was raised at a proud angle and his grey eyes held an unwavering challenge that Lady Cassandra instinctively recognized and thrilled to. Her ladyship’s glance snapped instantly to the young woman’s face. The girl appeared anxious, but she was proud, too, thought Lady Cassandra as a glowing warmth that had nothing to do with the fire spread over her.

  Lady Cassandra smiled. She eased back against her chair cushions. “A runaway marriage, I perceive. My dear young sir, I never expected it of you.”

  The viscount flushed. But his steady gaze did not waver. “My bride, Lady Joan Dewesbury. My lady, Lady Cassandra Catherine Wilmot-Howard, my grandmother.”

  “I am happy to make your acquaintance, my lady,” said the young woman.

  Lady Cassandra’s hearing was acute. She could detect the slightest nuances in the most casual of comments and with accuracy skewer the speaker with an astonishing insight. Now in the new viscountess’s voice she thought she heard a quaver of nervousness, but still, the girl’s voice was well-modulated and well-bred. “I hardly think so, my dear child,” she murmured dryly.

  She was pleased to see that swift color rose in the girl’s face, betokening a proper understanding of the unusual circumstances. Lady Cassandra’s eagle eyes swept over the girl’s modest gown. The merino was decently cut, albeit untidily creased. Its respectable brown shade was most becoming to the girl’s unremarkable looks, especially the rare rose that still brushed her cheeks. It crossed Lady Cassandra’s mind to wonder why her grandson had not chosen a dazzler rather than this particular young woman, and her curiosity became even more heightened.

  There was nothing of the vulgar about the girl, decided Lady Cassandra, and she became quite prepared to receive her grandson’s unheralded bride with grace.

  She smiled warmly and stretched out her hand. Responding instinctively, the girl put out her own hand and Lady Cassandra took it, drawing the girl toward her. She noticed immediately and with great amusement that upon the girl’s slender finger was a heavy and overlarge signet ring, which had been made to fit by the knotting of a tiny square of handkerchief through and through the band. “My dear, you must be tired. Pray sit next to me on this chair,” she said graciously, nodding at the chair situated closest to her own.

  As her newest granddaughter obeyed her, she turned her head to the viscount and her voice sharpened. “Edward, you may sit there, opposite me, where I may keep a close eye on your countenance while you tell me the whole of this pretty tale. Be forewarned that I shall accept nothing less.”

  Lord Humphrey flushed again, rather resenting his grandmother’s attitude but knowing full well that he could hardly have expected different. As it was, he thought the old lady had already been remarkably forbearing in her reception of his bride after the shock that the announcement must have been to her. Nevertheless, it was not the most comfortable of positions that he had ever found himself in. “I had not intended to give you anything but the complete truth, Grandmamma,” he said tightly.

  Lady Cassandra smiled slightly, the expression in her eyes mocking him. “Of course you would not. You have always been circumspect beyond belief,” she said.

  She was surprised at the flash of temper that crossed her grandson’s face, quickly controlled and smoothed away, and she wondered suddenly just how thoroughly she had misjudged the young viscount. She had taken for granted that he was as correct and as worthy as his parents, never having seen or heard anything to the contrary. But on the very evening that she had been reading that he was to wed a young lady chosen for him, he had come to her with an altogether different bride in tow.

  The unexpected occurrence had quite dispelled Lady Cassandra’s previous feeling of ennui. It quite made one wish to celebrate, she thought expansively.

  With the warm thought in mind, Lady Cassandra inclined her head in apology to her grandson. “Forgive me, Edward. You have caught me unaware, but of course I must hear you out. We shall speak of it over tea, I think.” Overlooking the stunned expression that crossed her grandson’s face at her uncharacteristic apology, she picked up the tiny silver bell on the occasional table and rang it vigorously.

  Carruthers came at once to inquire her ladyship’s wishes and bowed in understanding when she had delivered herself of several orders, which included not only the serving of tea but her request to see that bedchambers should be made ready for her unexpected guests and other provisions for their comfort. He left again, the door closing softly behind him.

  Lady Cassandra turned back to her companions. She was amused to note that the viscount’s eyes had become wary in expression. “Well, Edward? I am waiting for enlightenment.”

  Lord Humphrey rather reluctantly realized the moment of truth had come. His black brows knit as he thought how best to proceed, and he said slowly, “It is not a tale that reflects well upon myself.”

  “Nor upon me, I fear,” said the viscountess swiftly. She colored when Lady Cassandra turned arching brows and a politely inquiring look upon her.

  “You are entirely blameless, Joan,” the viscount said, swiftly.

  “No, I allowed myself to be seduced by-”

  “Seduced! My dear, you shock me profoundly,” said Lady Cassandra.

  Realizing her mistake, Joan flushed fiery red, then turned pale. Her dark eyes were huge in her face. “No, no! I did not mean seduced in that sense, my lady.”

  “What other sense is there?” asked Lady Cassandra, shrugging carelessly. “Unless, of course, you meant that you did the seducing. I must tell you that in most circles that does indeed reflect very badly upon you, my dear.” She did not voice that her own attitudes were more liberal, given that those same beliefs had been molded by a somewhat lurid period of her own past.

  The viscount was out of his chair in an instant and planted himself beside his obviously discomfited wife. He laid his hand reassuringly upon her shoulder. Lady Cassandra was astonished by her grandson’s protectiveness, but even more so when the girl’s hand stole up to meet the comfort of his fingers. The unconscious gesture was most telling, she reflected thoughtfully, and she wondered how long the relationship had been in existence. She felt a sneaking admiration for her grandson, who had apparently learned virtue of discretion very well indeed, for there had not even been a whisper of what had so obviously been in the wind.

  Lord Humphrey’s gray eyes glittered like cut glass. “You deliberately misunderstand, Lady Cassandra. There has been no seduction. I persuaded my lady to marry me through unfair means, which she believes that she should have resisted. That’s all.”

  “And these... persuasions, Edward? What were they?” asked Lady Cassandra silkily. Her eyes had become oddly cold, mirroring her sudden suspicions. She would not have dishonor in the family. If her grandson had done aught to coerce the girl, she would instantly establish herself the girl’s protectoress.

  “I was drunk. I abducted Miss Chadwick, with the intention of carrying her off to Gretna Green,” he said brutally.

  His grandmother was r
ather taken aback. It was not quite the distressing revelation that she had steeled herself against; on the contrary, it was quite the opposite. “And had not Miss Chadwick a word to say against this disgusting and highhanded behavior?” Lady Cassandra asked.

  The viscount’s lips twitched. “She had several words to say, actually,” he said ruefully. “But I refused to listen to any of her sensible arguments.”

  “No, you did not. However—and it is most reprehensible of me—I did hearken to yours,” said Joan, glancing up at the viscount with the faintest of smiles on her face. She turned her gaze onto the formidable elderly lady who was regarding her and the viscount so steadily. “I fear that I was not stalwart enough to brave the censure that the time I had spent in his lordship’s company would cause for me, my lady. That was the full sum of it, that and that his lordship offered me a far more comfortable future than I had ever contemplated.”

  Lady Cassandra was intrigued. “And what had you contemplated, my dear?”

  “She was applying to become a governess,” said Lord Humphrey forcibly. “I told her that she wouldn’t last a fortnight, of course. No, Joan, not a word. I’ve already pointed out that how many languages one speaks has no bearing on the case at all. The plain truth is, my lady, is that Joan is out of the common way attractive. She would have run foul of some lecherous son of the house, and that would have been the end of it.”

  “So you naturally decided to save Miss Chadwick from her ghastly fate and carried her off in a most improper fashion,” said Lady Cassandra, nodding as though in perfect understanding. She raised her brows as she looked over at her grandson’s bride, and she asked in a conspiratorial tone, “My dear, was he too awfully under the hatches?”

  “If by that you mean was his lordship the worse for drink and horribly obstinate and unreasonable, why, yes, my lady,” Joan said, a twinkling light dawning in her brown eyes.