A Chance Encounter (4 page)

There was but one way to make amends, he thought.

It was ironic that his honor required him to do the very thing that in his drunken state he had fully intended to accomplish.

Even the Earl and Countess of Dewesbury would find it difficult to dispute the purity of his motives once matters were explained to them. Lord Humphrey grimaced to himself at thought of that particular necessity. And there would still be the issue of Miss Ratcliffe’s expectations.

Lord Humphrey’s lips twisted. His dilemma regarding that particular lady must take care of itself, he decided. He had not, after all, formally offered for Miss Ratcliffe’s hand. If he had already done so, the present situation would have been thrice the
contretemps
that it was and certainly not so easily solved.

The daughter of a viscount, Miss Ratcliffe was a member of the same society as he, and she was aware of that society’s rules in matters of honor. He simply had no alternative but to pursue the course that he had so unthinkingly dealt for himself and Miss Chadwick.

Nevertheless, he had a very good suspicion that Miss Ratcliffe would not see it in so reasonable a light. He did not look forward to his reception at the lady’s hands when they next met.

Lord Humphrey
set down his wineglass in a decisive fashion. “Miss Chadwick.”

She turned her large brown eyes on him, her expression one of mild inquiry. “Yes, my lord?”

It crossed Lord Humphrey’s mind that Miss Ratcliffe would have reacted to the present circumstances in a somewhat different manner man had Miss Chadwick. He found it astonishing that there was no hint of anger or disapprobation in either Miss Chadwick’s glance or her voice. Such forbearance on her part made it all the more imperative that he put right the rare mull that he had made of things.

“Miss Chadwick, I most humbly beg your pardon. I am at last cognizant of the grave disservice that I have done you this evening,” he said gravely. He reached across the table to take her hand.

Joan felt her pulse begin to hammer in her throat. She had not often had such attention paid to her, and it was disconcerting.

“I hope that you may find it in your heart to forgive me, ma’am,” he said.

Joan felt tears start to her eyes. She blinked once or twice to clear her sight. So as not to give offense, she ever so gently withdrew her fingers from his light clasp. She knew that it was silly to think so, but when his lordship regarded her just so, with that steady quiet in his eyes, and she felt the warmth of his hand about hers, she could almost believe that he actually cared something for her.

She attempted to make light of the startling things she was feeling. “It has been a rare experience, indeed, my lord. Of course I must forgive you. You have obviously not been quite yourself,” she said.

“You are kind, Miss Chadwick, kinder than I deserve,” Lord Humphrey said with a twisted smile. He settled back in his chair, his gaze still on her quiet expression.

“I was drunk as a wheelbarrow and I suspect a bit mad as well. I can offer no further excuse for my outrageous conduct. That is done with and cannot be recalled. But the consequences are not,” he said. “I have brought ruin upon your head, Miss Chadwick, and for that there can be only one solution. Miss Chadwick, I am obliged to wed you and I hold myself ready to do so at your earliest convenience.”

Joan was at once amazed and dismayed, most especially at the sudden leap of her heart into her throat. She stared at the viscount, searching his face for sign of inebriation, but his expression, though frowning, was sincere and his gaze clear and steady.

At last she found her voice. “My lord, we have already discussed this very topic to exhaustion. You have a duty toward Miss Ratcliffe, as you have admitted to me. I do not think the case altered to any degree and—”

“On the contrary, Miss Chadwick,” interrupted Lord Humphrey. “Before, you were perfectly correct in your argument. Also, your advice to me that I should not wed the first female to cross my path in order to escape an obligation that I disclosed to you to be an onerous one was quite pertinent at the time. You see, I recall perfectly every word of our conversation. A pity that I did not heed you.’’ He laughed but with little real amusement. “My judgment was clouded, Miss Chadwick. I knew only that I wished to escape and you were fortuitously at hand to serve the purpose.”

“My
lord—”

He brushed aside her attempt to interrupt him. “I see now that I acted in an utterly selfish manner, without regard to anyone’s wishes but my own, with the result that I have placed myself under a deeper obligation and one that most closely speaks to my honor.”

Joan felt her heart beating very fast. “And what is that exactly, my lord?” she asked in a low voice. Her fingers were trembling and she clasped her hands firmly in her lap where the tremor could not be seen.

Lord Humphrey filled his wineglass. He set aside the bottle and picked up the glass between his long fingers. Swirling the dark wine, he frowned down into it. “You have already spent several hours alone in my company, ma’am. Surely you must realize what that means in the eyes of the world.’’

He looked up to meet her eyes and he saw that she did know. He said quietly, “I cannot allow you to bear the dishonor that would be yours were I simply to return you to your friends in the middle of the night, without acceptable explanation. I doubt very much that your friends would be as understanding as you or I would wish.”

Miss Chadwick knew that what his lordship said was true. She could not explain away the lost hours. Even if she was believed by the Percys, there would always be that stray doubt that must cloud their perception of her.

Her reputation would inevitably be tarnished, for the tale would become known. Mrs. Percy was a dear soul, Joan thought in despair, but she was also an inveterate gossip. There were the servants to be considered as well. Her absence was undoubtedly already cause for alarm and speculation. If she were simply to turn up safe and whole, but on the viscount’s arm, she would discover her name all over the county by week’s end. And such tales had a distressing way of following one wherever one might go.

Joan shrank from thought of the sideways glances and whispers that would forever be cast her way were she to insist that his lordship return her to the Percys. Almost anything would be preferable to that burden, she thought.

The alternative that the viscount outlined was so insidiously tempting, she admitted, half in fear and half in yearning. Already she had been given ample time to compare her own meager plans, which had been borne out of necessity, to what the viscount had offered her while in his drunken state. Her own determinations for her future had come up sadly wanting in the comparison. Whatever else the viscount thought he offered her, as his wife she would have the opportunity of exploring companionship, ease, and hope.

It would be so much easier not to have to endure the shame and the faint hint of scandal that must henceforth attach to her name after this night’s escapade. She did not know how far her inclinations had carried her until she whispered, “What of Miss Ratcliffe?”

Lord Humphrey had been watching the various expressions cross her face, and at her question he was surprised to feel himself relax slightly. He had not realized that he had awaited her decision with even the remotest degree of tension.

“You pointed out to me yourself, Miss Chadwick, that unless I formally offer for the lady there is no true binding obligation between myself and her ladyship. The obligation remains but a strong wish of our respective parents until that moment.” Lord Humphrey shrugged carelessly. “There will initially be displeasure on all sides for my decision, but I think that eventually our marriage will come to be viewed, if not with enthusiasm, at least with resignation.”

Joan made up her mind, and for fear that she would lose her courage if she hesitated even a moment to voice it, she said in an unsteady voice, “Very well, my lord. I shall marry you.” She trembled in every limb at her own temerity, but the ceiling did not fall in judgment as she half-expected.

Lord Humphrey left his chair to come around the table. He lifted both of her cold hands and, one after the other, raised her fingers to his lips. He regarded her with a scarce smile. “You have greatly honored me, Miss Chadwick. Thank you.”

Joan reclaimed her hands even as the color rose hot in her face. “I suppose that we should continue on our way to Gretna,” she said diffidently. She did not know how to act or what to say. It was such an awkward moment and quite unlike what she had imagined it might be to accept an offer for her hand.

At her words, the frown descended once more upon the viscount’s visage. “No, it shall not be Gretna this night or any other. We may marry in haste, my dear ma’am, but I shall not have it nosed about that we pleaded our vows over a blacksmith’s anvil. A magistrate or a parish priest is the ticket.”

“But surely . . . What of the license, my lord?” faltered Joan.

Lord Humphrey’s eyes gleamed, irony in their gray depths. “I carry a special license this very moment, my lady. I had meant to have the unpalatable exchange of vows with Miss Ratcliffe take place as soon as possible on the morrow once she had accepted my formal proposal.”

“Oh, my,” said Joan, quite inadequately.

“Quite.” Lord Humphrey laughed, almost cheerfully. “Devil a bit, Miss Chadwick. Her ladyship need never know that I put the license intended for her to such better office. The only possible rub that I see for us now is the matter of age. I am of legal age, being five-and-twenty, but what of you?”

“I am one-and-twenty, my lord,” Joan said. A fleeting smile entered her brown eyes. “Quite on the shelf, you see.” Her small attempt at humor earned an appreciative smile from the viscount.

Lord Humphrey strode across the parlor. Pulling open the door, he set up a bellow for the innkeeper. The man came running, alarmed.

When the innkeeper learned that his lordship wanted a minister and for what purpose, he was openly astonished. But almost instantly his expression smoothed. “I shall attend to the matter myself immediately, my lord.”

Lord Humphrey bethought himself of another requirement. “The lady should have an abigail to attend her.”

The innkeeper bowed. “I shall send up my own daughter at once, my lord.” He left quickly on his errands, having already learned that his illustrious guest was short of temper toward any who dared to offer a few superfluous words.

When the innkeeper had left, Joan said, “An abigail, my lord? Surely I have no need of such a person.”

“On the contrary, Miss Chadwick. The woman will share your bedroom tonight and lend you countenance when we drive back to my estates in the morning,” Lord Humphrey said. He regarded her somberly. “I intend to arrange everything within my power to draw some air of respectability about our runaway marriage, in hopes of confounding some of the flurry of scandal that is certain to arise once it is learned that we have wed, and in such a hole-in-the-wall manner.” He smiled at her. “I think that I owe you that much consideration, at least.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Joan did not know what else to say. She felt it was stupid of her not to have foreseen the same difficulties as the viscount. But then he was a member of a much more sophisticated world than was she, she thought. She was indeed grateful to him for considering her feelings and her uncomfortable position.

The abigail who accompanied the returning innkeeper was a buxom country girl. She was rendered speechless by the singular honor of attending to an actual lady. At the viscount’s sharp critical glance, she bobbed a quick nervous curtsy and went to stand beside her new mistress.

The innkeeper had the local minister in tow. “I ‘ave explained what is wanted, my lord,” he said.

“Highly irregular request, sir, if I may humbly say so,” the minister said, his considering gaze going from the viscount’s countenance to that of the young lady seated at the table. He had dealt with more than one runaway couple in his time, but this particular pair appeared somewhat older than had the others. He substantiated that fact with a quiet question.

There seemed nothing untoward in the relationship between the couple, the gentleman behaving with all solicitous propriety in aiding the lady to her feet. The minister noted that the young woman had a pronounced limp. It spoke well of the young lord’s character for disregarding his intended’s handicap. The minister’s natural doubts were laid to rest, and after assuring himself that the viscount had the proper license, he proceeded with the brief ceremony.

At the proper time Lord Humphrey pulled the signet ring off his own finger and slipped it onto Joan’s. She had to crook her finger so that the too-large ring did not slide off.

She was so absorbed by the problem of the ring that she was caught off-guard when the viscount’s lips found hers. The kiss was fleeting, but nevertheless quite unnerving. She was blushing fiercely when he drew back.

There was an oddly distant look in his gray eyes as he looked down at the woman that he had made his wife. He glanced down at their still-clasped hands and a flicker of warmth crossed his expression. “I shall get you a proper ring when there is time,” he said.

He turned then to the minister to courteously thank the man for his services and to amply reward him from his purse. The necessary papers were signed by the primary parties and witnessed by the innkeeper and the round-eyed abigail, the latter thinking that she had never seen anything half so romantic.

Lord Humphrey requested that two bedchambers be made ready.

The innkeeper’s astonished expression earned the man an icy inquiry from his lordship regarding the facility of his hearing. “Not at all, my lord,” said the innkeeper hastily, keeping to himself his opinion of the gentry’s way of arranging matters. “I’ll attend to the matter myself.”

Within a few moments, Joan and Lord Humphrey were again alone, the abigail having discreetly retreated into the bedroom directly off the parlor that was to be her ladyship’s.

Joan and the viscount stared at each other for several long seconds. They neither could think of anything appropriate to say. At last the viscount offered his arm to her, saying that he knew that her ankle must still be giving her pain. “You must be fatigued as well,” he said.

“Yes,” Joan agreed as she accepted his escort to the door of the bedroom.

He paused at the door to raise her fingers to his lips. “Good night, my lady,” he said quietly.

“Good night, my lord,” she said.

Lord Humphrey waited until his bride had entered the bedroom and the door was softly closed before he turned away. As he crossed the parlor and left it to find his own bedroom, his heavily frowning countenance was lent deep shadows by the guttering fire.