A Chance Encounter (8 page)

Lady Cassandra was on the point of pursuing the interesting point when Joan made a startling announcement.

“I am most sorry, my lady. But I do not think that I can be a party to this scheme, after all.”

Joan’s quiet
,
strained voice fell into a well of silence as both Lord Humphrey and her ladyship stared uncomprehendingly at her.

“Heh? What are you saying, child,” exclaimed Lady Cassandra in open astonishment. Whatever was the chit thinking of? She had concocted the perfect plan to scotch any scandal and enable the ungrateful girl to slip into the family circle with little opposition.

The fact that the scheme would also shake up Lady Cassandra’s fine stuffy relations and throw a few mild fireworks into the midst of them was beside the point.

Her own amusements were secondary, Lady Cassandra thought piously. It was her grandson’s future that she must preserve and protect. She would not have it, she thought with icy determination. The girl would do as she was bid and that would be the end of it.

Lord Humphrey caught his wife’s dark eyes with his own steady gaze and held them. “What troubles you, my lady?” he asked quietly.

Lady Cassandra caught back the scathing question she would have uttered. She waited to hear how her grandson might fare in handling his bride, for it would be far better that the girl’s recalcitrance be curbed by her lawful husband.

Joan had watched the cold imperiousness come over Lady Cassandra’s face. It was with relief that she heard the viscount’s reasonable tone. When she turned to him, she found the willingness to understand in his eyes. The thought fleeted through her mind that he had never really been impatient or cold toward her—an extraordinary thing, considering how they had been thrust together by circumstance.

“I can’t but wonder what my dear papa would have said at such deception,” she said. Without realizing that she neglected to do so, she did not make clear that the ambivalence of her feelings toward the viscount and her position as his wife were the crux of the matter, not the false engagement that had been proposed. She knew that as a minister her father would have deemed falsehood in a relationship of the gravest import. The marriage that she and his lordship had embarked upon in such a bizarre a fashion was surely a deception of the highest order on each of their parts.

Joan anxiously watched his lordship’s face. “I wonder if perhaps it has all been a dreadful mistake. I should not have been so cowardly, nor succumbed so easily to temptation. I see that now. My lord, you should have a wife worthy of your position, and one whom you love.’’ She faltered, then rallied. “But it is not too late. An annulment can be had, can it not?”

Joan glanced at Lady Cassandra, who sat regal and stiff in her chair. Silent temper snapped in her ladyship’s eyes. Joan made an inadequate gesture. “I’m sorry, Lady Cassandra.’’

Lord Humphrey reached across the intervening space between himself and the woman he had made his wife scarce twelve hours before. He captured her hand and held it in the strength of his clasp. His gaze rested warm on her troubled face. “Your scruples continue to do you credit, Joan. I do not regret our marriage. I shall never do so, I promise you.”

“I scarcely know what to say,” Joan said, torn equally by her desires and her conviction that his lordship was due much more than she could ever provide to him.

“Good God, girl,” exclaimed Lady Cassandra, exasperated.

“Say, then, that you will stay beside me,” said Lord Humphrey.

She nodded slowly. “Very well, my lord.”

He detected still a shade of doubt in her eyes and thought it was because of the proposed engagement. “If you cannot feel comfortable with the course as my grandmother has outlined it, then naturally we must make a clean breast of it all,” he said quietly.

“Edward,” exclaimed Lady Cassandra wrathfully.

Lord Humphrey ignored his grandmother’s intervention. “Joan? It shall be just as you prefer.”

Joan looked up at his lordship. She saw the sincerity in his eyes and she heard it in the determination of his voice. Her mouth softened into a faint smile. “You would do that, I think, even though it meant ever so much trouble.”

He smiled and pressed her fingers. “I have told you that I shall shield you as much as it is in my power to do so. But I would not have you think ill of me or question my honor.”

“I would never do so, my lord. You have been all that is honorable and more,” Joan said, her eyes misting. She could feel the heavy signet ring on her finger and its weight was reassuring.

“Then I can only ask that you trust me in this, Joan. I swear that I will not take your confidence lightly,” Lord Humphrey said.

It was an appeal that she could not stand against. The assaulting doubts faded. Joan smiled. “Very well, my lord. I still cannot quite like it all, but I accept the necessity. We shall become an engaged couple.”

“Perhaps I should not ask, but curiosity has always been a failing of mine,” Lady Cassandra said crossly. She was still upset that her carefully wrought entertainment had so narrowly missed its staging, but even so her quick ear was at work. She had not been behind in noting that Joan had spoken of her father in the past tense and it had come to her that she had all along taken for granted that the girl had no family to speak of or with which to acquaint of the present situation. “Who was your father, my dear?”

“Papa was vicar in a neighboring county, my lady. He was a truly generous and godly man. He passed away but eight months ago,” Joan said. As she spoke, she felt the familiar blinding stab of grief and loneliness that had become a hovering companion to her spirits since that fateful day. She squared her shoulders against it. It was always worse when she was tired, and it had been a most arduous afternoon.

“I am sorry, my dear. It is most distressing to lose one who is well-loved,” Lady Cassandra said sincerely. Even so, her agile mind quickly turned over the new piece of information to her advantage. “However, I cannot but think that this delay to announce the match between you and my grandson suits your own private needs very well. You are still in mourning. It would hardly be fitting to announce your marriage, with all the attendant hoopla and exclamation that it would entail, before you were completely out of black gloves.”

“I had not thought of that,” said Lord Humphrey, frowning. More than ever he was convinced of the tightness of his grandmother’s advice on how to introduce his wife into his family. Joan should have her private period of mourning.

“Your mourning will also serve as a logical explanation for the quietness of the engagement, for certainly we must let it be assumed that the understanding between yourself and my grandson is of some duration,” said Lady Cassandra.

“But it is not,” Joan said. Disturbed, she recognized the beginning of a spiral of half-truths and fabrications.

“My dear, when first you entered this room on my grandson’s arm, that is precisely what I assumed. I do not think that you have suffered from it. On the contrary, I suspect that if I had not tumbled to the matter of the special license and had already known of the arranged betrothal, it would have saved both yourself and my grandson several minutes of embarrassment,” said Lady Cassandra.

Joan could not deny it. She smiled, shaking her head. “That is true, my lady.”

Lady Cassandra said significantly, “I do not think that your father would have wished you to suffer through scandal and humiliation, my dear, especially at this sad time.”

Joan was silent, reflecting that her father would have been most shocked and distressed by the lack of support from his parish for his only child. Indeed, the vicar would have been incensed that she had been forced to the extremity of applying for a post simply to keep a roof over her head.

Her thoughts graduated naturally to her prior concern. She hoped that her father would not have been too disappointed at her cowardice in acquiescing to the viscount’s proposal. It had seemed quite the best thing to do, and she did not mink that she would later regret it.

As she met the viscount’s steady gaze, she felt her heart lift. No, she would not regret it, she thought, “I am game enough for it now, I think, my lord.”

“Good girl,” he said, smiling. He let go of her hand at last and rose to his feet. “Shall you wish my company any longer, Grandmamma? For all that it is early still and incredibly rag-mannered of me to own to it, I find that I am deuced tired and in a few hours I shall wish only for my bed. Therefore I beg that you ladies will accept my excuses and allow me to get onto the road before I am completely done in, as I must return to London at once.”

Joan cast a startled glance up at the viscount, but she said nothing to his unexpected announcement. However, she could not still the sense of apprehension and abandonment that swept through her. In the last several hours the viscount had become a necessary anchor to her. She felt adrift at the very thought of being left to her own devices in a world completely outside her experience.

“No, I think that will be all for the moment, Edward. I do think it would be wise to write at once to the earl and inform him that you will not be arriving quite so soon as expected,” Lady Cassandra said, reaching for her bell and ringing it to alert her staff that the remains of the tea were to be cleared away. The drawing-room door opened at once to admit the butler.

Lord Humphrey grimaced. “You are right, of course. I shall do so as soon as I arrive in London,” he said.

He held out his hand to his wife. Odd how easily he had come to think of her in that fashion, but she was a comfortable little thing. Not at all one to cut up a man’s peace, he thought in a self-congratulatory manner as he compared what this moment might have been like if he had married Miss Ratcliffe instead. “Will you escort me to the door, my lady?”

“Of course,” Joan said. Her voice was quite steady and betrayed none of the trepidation that she felt. She rose to her feet, and placing her hand in his, they walked from the drawing room.

Lady Cassandra delayed the butler in order to inform him that the young lady was Miss Joan Chadwick, the viscount’s betrothed, and as such was to be accorded every courtesy of the house. Carruthers, though used to the rare starts of the gentry, was nevertheless surprised by her ladyship’s revelation. His expression remained wooden, however, as he prepared to depart the drawing room and seek immediate refuge in the servants’ hall, where he could impart the extraordinary news.

In the front hall, Lord Humphrey retrieved his beaver and greatcoat from the attendant footman. As he adjusted the beaver over his brows, he requested the footman to convey a message to the stables that he required his phaeton. The footman left on his errand and the couple was momentarily alone in the entry hall.

He said quietly, “You must not be anxious, Joan. No, do not attempt to deny it. You have the most speaking eyes, you know.” There was the trace of a smile in his voice.

“To my continuing lamentation,” retorted Joan with a touch of tartness.

The viscount laughed. He sobered quickly. He was very aware that the butler was emerging from out of the drawing room, and in an attempt to discourage possible listening ears, he lowered his voice. “I do not desert you at this late date.”

“I never thought it, my lord,” Joan said staunchly. “I shall do very well with her ladyship until your return.”

The footman returned to inform the viscount that his carriage was at that moment being brought around. He opened the front door for his lordship.

Lord Humphrey thanked the man briefly. He drew Joan with him outside onto the portico. The viscount raised her hand to his lips. After the warm salute across her fingers, he said, “You do not ask me why I must leave.”

“I am certain that if you wished me to know, you would inform me,” Joan said.

“You are by far too trusting of me, my lady,” said Lord Humphrey, shaking his head. “I return to London to place the advertisement of our engagement in the
Gazette
and also to procure a proper engagement ring for you.”

Joan smiled at him. Her brown eyes suddenly twinkled. “I fancy
that
will be an onerous task for a confirmed bachelor.”

He laughed. He saw that his phaeton was arriving at the curb and his team was stamping impatiently. “Farewell, my lady.”

He bounded down the steps and climbed up into the phaeton. Taking up his whip, he nodded to the stable groom to let go the leaders and the team instantly started into motion. The phaeton rolled toward. The viscount touched his whip to his beaver and then the carriage swept past Joan.

Joan watched the phaeton progress away from her until the trees that shaded the graveled drive hid it from view. She sighed and, turning to the door standing open behind her, walked back inside and into her new life.

The butler awaited her. “Miss Chadwick, her ladyship has suggested that you might wish a hot bath and to rest in your room before dinner,” he said.

Joan flashed her warm smile. “Indeed I would,” she agreed.

Carruthers permitted himself the flicker of a smile. “The footman will show you upstairs to your room, miss.”

Joan followed the manservant. When she entered the bedroom and closed the door behind her, she found that the abigail she had acquired was busily tipping large copper pots of water into a brass hip bath. The bath was set between a roaring fire in the grate and a screen to discourage wayward drafts. “How lovely,” said Joan in anticipation.

The abigail ducked her head in greeting. Her plump cheeks were pink from the steam rising from the water. “But let me finish, m’lady, and I’ll give you a ‘and with your buttons.”