A Chance Encounter (12 page)

“How utterly charming,” Lady Cassandra said. “I actually had no notion.”

“I think that I shall be ill,” Joan whispered, still tingling from the explosive scene. She had never been exposed to such shocking uproar before, and she was shaking in reaction.

“Don’t be missish, Miss Chadwick. Edward, make her drink that wine at once. It will settle her nerves,’’ said Lady Cassandra. She watched while the viscount solicitously bent over the white-faced girl with a half-filled glass.

Joan shook her head quickly, but after a moment of listening to Lord Humphrey’s persuasions, she dared to sip at the wine. The color began returning slowly to her face. She smiled fleetingly at the viscount. “I am better. Thank you, my lord. It was just all so horrible!”

Lady Cassandra nodded in satisfaction. “Good. I have rarely seen a good wine fail. Miss Chadwick, you are obviously suffering under a misapprehension. Contrary to what you may believe, and considering everything, the first hurdle has been gotten over surprisingly well.”

Joan stared at her ladyship in open disbelief. “My lady, you cannot be serious. Everyone was at daggers’ points. As for my own reception . . . why, I would scarcely have lasted five seconds alive saving the viscount’s and your own presence.”

“Joan, my grandmother is right. It went somewhat better than I expected. After all, Miss Ratcliffe was not present to contribute full-blown hysterics,” Lord Humphrey said. He smiled down at her appalled expression. “You may breathe more freely now. I suspect the worst to be over, my lady.”

“Do you indeed? How young you are still, Edward,’’ Lady Cassandra said cheerfully. She lifted her wineglass and drained it with relish.

Joan felt a sinking feeling. “Just what are you saying, my lady?”

“Only that I’d wager that there will be a few more uncomfortable moments to be gotten through,” Lady Cassandra said. “You have yet to meet Lord Dewesbury, as well as the score of others that I would have expected Lady Dewesbury would have invited in honor of the wonderful news of my grandson’s nuptials.”

“Oh, Lord,” groaned Lord Humphrey. “I had not thought. Mama undoubtedly invited a houseful of family and friends who were to have celebrated the happy ties between myself and Miss Ratcliffe. It was the reason I originally meant to come down only for the weekend. I had no desire to play the proud fiancé for a crowd of mistaken well-wishers.”

“My daughter has always been an excellent and meticulous hostess. It is one of her few redeeming qualities,” Lady Cassandra said musingly.

Joan paid not the least bit of attention to her ladyship. The picture conjured up by the viscount’s words was too horrible to contemplate. “I do not think that I can go through with it,” she said with a shudder.

“Nor I. I’d as lief be gone within the hour,” Lord Humphrey said. “Joan will you come with me?”

“Gladly, my lord,” Joan said fervently.

“Pudding hearts, the both of you,” said Lady Cassandra roundly.

“I beg your pardon,” the viscount said stiffly.

“What will you do once you leave?” asked Lady Cassandra, ignoring her grandson’s affront. “There is still the matter of your hasty marriage, or have you forgotten, Edward? You shall have to make a full confession. Or will you play the coward and leave the earl and your poor mother to suffer under the painful delusion that you have taken Miss Chadwick away to her ruin?”

“It is all one and the same at this juncture, my lady,” Joan said with a spurt of temper. “The situation is intolerable as it stands.”

Lady Cassandra smiled slightly. “Is it, my dear? I suspect that my grandson realizes differently.”

Joan looked up
quickly at the gentleman standing beside her chair. Lord Humphrey was scowling. “My lord?” she questioned.

He looked at her, the expression in his frowning eyes inscrutable. When he spoke, it was grimly, reluctantly. “She is right, dash it! We shall have to go on with it. We’ve gone too far now to cry craven.”

“Indeed, I rather think that running away now would make matters even more difficult later,” Lady Cassandra said. She added delicately, “Especially if you were to wait until you were forced to impart the news of an impending event.”

Lord Humphrey glanced sharply at his grandmother. He had not given thought to that particular possibility before, and the implications stunned him. It was going to be uphill work to introduce into the family a betrothed who was not Miss Ratcliffe. His mind fairly boggled at the notion of presenting a wife, who had never been accepted, with a babe in arms. No, decidedly he would not wish to go through that.

The initial responsibility that he had shouldered for an unknown young woman’s reputation was now assuming such proportions that he felt he carried a massive weight.

Joan was wrapped in her own unhappy reflections and she did not gather the import of what had been said. “I had prepared myself for opposition and discomfort. I never dreamed it would be so perfectly ghastly.”

Lord Humphrey felt suddenly suffocated. He forcefully slapped his palm against the top of the wing chair. “It is a damnable business! I wish that I had never embarked upon it.”

His outburst touched spark to Joan’s own insecurities. She shot out of the chair, startling him.

She was trembling when she faced him, and her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. “And I also! Do you think that I actually enjoyed that horrid scene? And when I think that I am expected to sit through more of the same, I positively shiver with dread and revulsion. I wish you had simply left me in that ditch, my lord. It would have been infinitely preferable.”

His expression was shocked. “Joan—”

She suddenly could not bear to look at his face for a second longer and she turned her back on him.

“There is still the alternative of annulment.”

Lady Cassandra’s crisp voice rasped raw against Joan’s stretched nerves. She raised her head, her eyes closing tight for the brief instant that it took for her to draw a shuddering breath. It was all she could do not to round on the insensitive woman.

Lord Humphrey crossed the distance to his wife. It was strange how he thought of her that way. Nothing had ever passed between them but the exchange of vows, and he could not fathom what there was in that to place her in his thoughts so firmly. He placed his hands on her shoulders and under them felt her violent start of surprise. “I do not wish an annulment. I pledged my vows in all sincerity and honor.”

Joan turned under his hands and looked up to search his face.

Lord Humphrey said quietly, “I told you this once before, my lady. I shall not regret taking you for my wife.” Their eyes locked and an unnamable expression flitted across the viscount’s face.

Joan felt the most curious sensation. She held herself very still. His hands tightened on her shoulders.

“Very prettily said, Edward.”

Lady Cassandra’s acid tone recalled the couple unpleasantly to their surroundings. The viscount dropped his hands from Joan’s shoulders. He turned toward his grandmother, and as much for Lady Cassandra’s benefit as for his lady, he said, “I apologize for my hasty words. They were borne out of frustration. I could only wish an easier time of it for Joan’s sake.”

Lady Cassandra shrugged in a bored fashion. “You have made your bed between you. It is a pity that the sheets are not smooth enough for your mistress’s taste.”

Hot color surged into Joan’s face.

The viscount exclaimed angrily, “You shall not speak in that fashion to my wife!”

“Your wife, Edward!” Lady Cassandra’s voice dripped ice. Her eyes were equally cold as she stared at her grandson. “Pray recall that you have entered upon a delicate masquerade.
Miss Chadwick
is your betrothed, Edward. And
Miss Chadwick
should be prepared for just such talk, though not again from myself.” She made a gesture of contempt. “I grow weary with this farce. I shall leave you alone to digest what I have said. I hope that you may come to a reasonable acceptance of the reality that you have created, but after your poor performance just now I do not place any confidence in it. I doubt that you shall be able to attain the happy outcome that you desire, Edward.”

Lady Cassandra left the drawing room.

There was a long silence while the viscount and Joan stared at each other. The temper in his eyes was not for her, she knew. She lifted her hand in an inadequate gesture. “I was mistaken, my lord. Lady Cassandra can indeed be a dragon,” she said.

“Yes, and one with a razor-edged tongue,” said Lord Humphrey, still smarting from his grandmother’s scathing disparagement.

“Yet, I do believe that she has your best interests at heart.’’

“She has a damnable way of showing it,” Lord Humphrey said.

“But nevertheless her ladyship is correct in her estimation. We are fools, the both of us, for believing that we might spare your family some measure of suffering,” Joan said. She made a short turn about the room, pausing to touch a figurine here, a vase there.

Lord Humphrey watched her. He was aware of her distress, but he was powerless to remedy the situation, and that angered him further. “What would you have me do, my lady? I am not a wizard that I might magically set all aright. I have done as my honor has led me. Am I to be condemned for that, and by you? You forget yourself, my lady.
I
do not forget that it is you who stands to profit the most by this rotten coil.”

Joan rounded on him then, her own eyes snapping in anger. “I do not expect magic, Edward. As for profit, if it was not for me or some other poor idiot, you would be firmly leg-shackled to a lady whom you hold in utter revulsion.”

Lord Humphrey’s smile twisted unpleasantly. His gray eyes were wintry. “One leg-shackle is much like another, my dear.”

Joan whitened. She appeared stricken as she stared across the room at him. Then her face altered, taking on a distant expression that he had never seen before.

“There is nothing more to be said, my lord.” She swept around and pulled open the drawing-room door. Blindly, for the tears had already started to her eyes, she fled.

Lord Humphrey stood irresolute, at once angered and ashamed. He did not know why he had cut up so harshly at her. He felt impelled to go after her, but his pride held him in check.

Joan had no goal in mind except to flee the viscount’s presence. She scarcely saw the lady approaching the drawing room until she had precipitously collided with her,

“Miss Chadwick!” Lady Dewesbury was scandalized by the young woman’s ill manners. Then she saw that the girl was in grave distress, fighting back tears and making quick, ineffectual wipes at her eyes. The countess’s natural compassion asserted itself and softened her voice. “My dear! Whatever has upset you so?”

“Forgive me, my lady. I—”

“Joan!”

At the viscount’s harsh voice, Joan’s head snapped around. Her eyes went wide with dismay when she saw that his lordship had come through the door of the drawing room after her. She would not talk to him then, she thought, she simply could not! She would almost certainly humiliate herself by bursting into inexplicable tears.

Lady Dewesbury was astonished at the look almost of panic on the young woman’s face. She threw a forbidding glance in her son’s direction as she firmly took the girl’s arm. “Come, Miss Chadwick. You are fatigued, and little wonder. I was just coming to tell you and Lord Humphrey that we dine late this evening, so that if you wish to do so you may indulge in a little rest after tea. Allow me to show you up to your bedroom. Your trunks have already been carried up, of course.”

Lady Dewesbury spirited away the viscount’s prey, for she was not a stupid woman and she had instantly perceived that her son was in a freakish temper. That his displeasure had something to do with Miss Chadwick, she also knew, and she was resolved to discover the root of it.

The countess led her uninvited guest upstairs and opened the door to a charming bedroom. She ushered Miss Chadwick in, keeping up a prattle to cover up her interest in the young woman. “Here we are, my dear. I hope that you will be comfortable. As I told you, here are your trunks. Ah, this must be your abigail. How do you do? I am Lady Dewesbury. I trust that you are finding everything to your mistress’s satisfaction?”

The abigail was astonished to find herself so addressed. She bobbed a quick curtsy. “Yes, my lady.” She folded her hands over her apron, waiting uncertainly for what would next be required of her.

Lady Dewesbury did not waste a moment. “I should like to visit with your mistress alone for a few moments.”

Joan had stepped away from the countess as though to admire the room, but in reality it was to enable herself to wipe away the remaining evidence of her stupid tears. At the countess’s words, however, she turned back. Alarm and dismay were writ openly on her countenance. She thought wildly how she could possibly clue her abigail that she did not want to be left to the countess’s tender mercies. Joan tried to catch the abigail’s eyes, but to no avail.

The abigail understood the countess instantly and perfectly. She bobbed another curtsy. “I shall just be in the closet room when you might require me, miss,” she said, withdrawing at once.

Lady Dewesbury regarded her guest somberly. “Miss Chadwick, you are overwrought. I saw it at once. I hope that you will not consider me prying, but I must ask. What has my son done?”

Joan swallowed before attempting to smile. “Done, my lady?”

The countess reached out and took her hand. She drew the unwilling young woman toward the settee that was situated under the room’s large bay window. “You shall confide in me, I insist.”

Joan realized that Lady Dewesbury had little intention of leaving until her curiosity was satisfied. Nevertheless, she made an appeal. “My lady, pray do not. It is nothing that must concern you.”

“Miss Chadwick, when you became betrothed to my son, everything about you must concern me,’’ Lady Dewesbury said forcefully. She saw that the young woman had averted her face as though struck, and she gentled her tone. “My dear, what is it?”

Joan rose hastily from the settee and took a quick step away. “I should not confide in you, of all people. Lady Cassandra ...” She broke off, realizing instantly that she had erred. It was a measure of her agitation that she had so easily betrayed herself. She turned back to face her hostess and tried to regain her ground. “Lady Dewesbury, I am most sorry to put you through such unpleasantness. I would undo it if I could, really I would. But it is such a tangle, I do not think that I would be able to take up my old life now.”

Lady Dewesbury received several impressions at once. The revelation that her mother was somehow involved was filed away for later contemplation. She was more concerned with Miss Chadwick’s obvious sincerity and what little that she had revealed. On the basis of a suspicion that suddenly reared its ugly head with her unwelcome guest’s words. Lady Dewesbury probed a little deeper. “I suppose that my son has much to do with your inability to, as you say, take up your old life?”

Miss Chadwick’s expression gave credence to the countess’s suspicion. Lady Dewesbury’s lips tightened briefly as she thought what questions she would like to put to a particular young gentleman. “Miss Chadwick, when I came up to you the viscount was pursuing you, obviously to take up a conversation that had been abruptly suspended. You were in tears—yes, I saw them, my dear. His lordship had been ill-tempered with you, hadn’t he?”

Joan tried to laugh, but the sound caught in her throat. “His lordship had never been so before, you see. Stupid of me, really. It was just that it came so swiftly after—” She brought herself up short. She did smile at the countess then, tremulously and politely. “Forgive me, my lady. I am not usually one to wear my thoughts on my sleeve. As you said, it has been a most fatiguing day.”

Lady Dewesbury saw that the young woman had at last gotten herself well in hand. She was not disappointed, however. What she thought she had gleaned had set her mind seething with further conjecture and strengthened suspicions. “I shall not disturb you further, then, Miss Chadwick. I shall see you again at tea, of course.”

Joan murmured assent and it was with relief that she saw her inquisitive hostess out of the bedroom.

With the sound of the outer door being shut, the door to the closet room opened and the abigail put her head around it. Her eyes were wide and held a conspiratorial expression. “Is it safe, miss?” she whispered
sotto voce.

Joan laughed shakily. She dashed her hand across her eyes for the last time. “Yes, of course it is, Maisie.”

The abigail left her hiding place and came into the room. “I heard everything, miss. Begging your pardon and all, miss, but it is a proper turnabout, isn’t it? I heard ever so much from the upstairs maid, who was dusting the room when I came up with the trunks, and this Miss Ratcliffe is a regular tartar. She’ll not make it simple for you, I’ll warrant.”