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

by Buck, Gayle

  Joan blushed to the roots of her hair and she was glad of the concealing half-light. “I am most sorry, my lord,” she said breathlessly.

  “Quite all right, Miss Chadwick,” he said formally.

  The activity in the small yard had brought out the innkeeper, who alternated between expressions of gratification for his lordship’s unlooked-for patronage and his willingness to serve in whatever capacity was within his power.

  “Yes, yes,” Lord Humphrey said testily.

  His head felt as though it was held in a metal vise; yet, despite his suffering, he was quite aware of several things. He held Miss Chadwick firmly against his chest. Her arms were around his neck, doubtless bringing ruin to the excellent folds of his neckcloth, and her warm breath tickled his ear.

  He had reason to know that she was trim of figure, but she was no featherweight for all that. What with everything that he had indulged in earlier that day having sapped his strength, and with a pounding head, the viscount was not amused to be kept standing about while some idiot innkeeper flapped his jaw.

  His temper acerbated beyond endurance, he snapped, “My good man, do me the service of keeping mum.”

  Without waiting to see the effect of his rude exclamation, the viscount strode across the yard with his burden, making for the door of the inn.

  The astonished innkeeper had instantly complied with the gentleman’s wishes. Instead, he took to bowing and scraping with an embarrassing servility as he ushered the viscount and the lady into the inn.

  Finally the man could no longer restrain himself and he bleated, “What is his lordship’s pleasure? Dinner, perhaps, or a private room?” The man determinedly kept his eyes away from the face of the lady held so closely in his lordship’s arms, but his very discretion gave some hint of his thoughts.

  Miss Chadwick reddened. She could only hope that the brim of her bonnet hid her renewed embarrassment, but she could not stop herself from an urgent whisper in the viscount’s ear. “Pray, put me down!”

  Lord Humphrey did not comply. Instead, he regarded the innkeeper with jaundiced eyes. He spoke in his coldest tone. “A private parlor and a late supper, my man, and be quick about it!”

  “Aye, m’lord, at once!”

  The innkeeper bowed several times, backing away as he did so toward the narrow stairs that led up to the second floor. The viscount followed the contemptible man, making rare work of it as he carried Miss Chadwick upstairs.

  Within a very short time Lord Humphrey and Miss Chadwick were ensconced in the best private parlor boasted by the inn. The innkeeper bustled about, a waiter in tow, both carrying serving dishes. Finally the innkeeper pronounced himself ready to serve his distinguished guests with his own hands.

  The viscount vehemently rejected the man’s suggestion, saying at his most arrogant, “I believe the lady and I are perfectly capable of feeding ourselves.” He stared haughtily at the innkeeper and was only satisfied when he saw the door swing shut behind the man’s back. “Officious fool,” he uttered in contempt.

  He turned to Miss Chadwick, whom he had seated on the settee in the parlor. While he dealt with the innkeeper, she had taken the opportunity to remove her cloak and had fluffed her short dark locks with her slender fingers. He saw with a spurt of interest that her figure was as trim as he had suspected it to be when he held her in his arms. He liked her face as well. Her features were regular and her brown eyes expressive and intelligent when she chanced to look up and meet his regard.

  With a crooked smile, he inquired, “Shall I carry you to the table, ma’am?”

  Miss Chadwick flushed, all too vividly remembering the feel of his arms about her. She said hurriedly, “I do not think that will be necessary, my lord. My ankle is much better.”

  In proof of her words, she rose, supporting her weight as she did so by holding on to the arm of the settee. But when she incautiously put her foot down to take the first step, she nearly overset with the stab of pain that shot up her leg. “Oh!”

  A strong hand slipped under her elbow. “Allow me to escort you to your chair, ma’am,” Lord Humphrey said gravely.

  Even though the color rose hard and fast in her face again, Miss Chadwick saw the humor in her situation and she swallowed a laugh. If she had been entangled in a romantic interlude, surely her very real handicap would render her completely uninteresting. “Thank you, my lord. That is most courteous of you,” she said with matching gravity.

  Relying heavily upon the viscount’s aid, Joan managed to hobble to the table with a measure of her self-respect preserved. He seated her and she murmured her thanks.

  She watched Lord Humphrey go around to the opposite side of the table and drop heavily into his own chair. He wore a deep frown and he passed his fingers tiredly several times over his cleft brows, as though attempting to ease some discomfort.

  Joan sympathized but only to a small degree. She had never experienced the aftereffects of strong drink, but she had heard that it was very uncomfortable. Her natural sympathy, however, did not blind her to the very real dilemma that his lordship’s overindulgence had placed her in. She asked softly, “Coffee, my lord?”

  The viscount glanced across at her from under well-marked brows. His stern expression lightened with the faint smile that flickered across his face. He could think of any number of ladies or gentlemen of his acquaintance who would have obliquely reminded him of his stupidity with a few well-chosen words, if for no other reason than to hold him up to gentle ridicule. His present companion had shown extraordinary forbearance. “Thank you, Miss Chadwick.” His voice conveyed more than civil acceptance of a polite gesture of hospitality.

  Joan was not certain exactly what the viscount had read into her offer to pour the coffee, but she chose to take his simple words at face value. She was too aware of her own lack of sophistication to pretend skill at divining the gentleman’s meaning. She poured coffee for the viscount and for herself.

  Miss Chadwick sensed swiftly that the viscount was not in the mood for light discourse, and so she bestowed her attention onto the hastily prepared supper.

  She was somewhat surprised to discover that she was hungry. She had been so wrapped up in all that had transpired, as well as her daydreams, that she had not previously realized how hungry she had become. The long drive in the fresh night air had apparently worked on her to good effect. She noticed that the viscount was not behind in doing equal justice to the humble fare of meat pies and braised carrots, shallots, and peas, topped off with a peach tart.

  Joan finished before the viscount, and while she toyed with her after-dinner wine, she managed to watch him in an unobtrusive fashion. She took note again of the strength of character in his face, obvious despite his inebriation. He had shed his elegant beaver upon entering the parlor. The hat’s shadow had served to disguise him to a certain extent and, she realized, had granted to him more years than he could actually lay claim.

  Lord Humphrey was a rather young gentleman and definitely an attractive one, at that. His dark hair was cropped close and crisped about his ears; and his eyes were large and handsomely set above his aquiline nose and firm mouth. The width of his shoulders complimented the perfect cut of his coat and the broad front expanse of white shirt and embroidered waistcoat. Most pleasing of all, whenever his lordship’s eyes chanced to meet hers, his gaze, though shadowed with pain, was remarkably steady.

  Joan unconsciously sighed and turned her eyes to the fire on the hearth. There was little point in contemplating on what could never be, she thought.

  Lord Humphrey looked up at the soft sound. He discovered a pensive expression on Miss Chadwick’s face and a sad droop to her mouth as she gazed into the fire. His conscience smote him with unpleasant force. He swirled the remaining wine in his glass. Though he was still possessed of a throbbing head, he had become reasonably sobered by the time he had finished with his repast.

  He had indeed had ample time for the reflection that Miss Chadwick had so earnestly wished upon him, and he
now rather grimly acknowledged to himself that he had made a pretty coil of it all.

  Lord Humphrey was acutely aware of the advantage he had taken of Miss Chadwick. Nay, call it honestly and admit that he had compromised the lady, he thought in self-disgust. He had literally abducted her and carried her off without a regard for the inevitable ruin of her good name.

  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.

  Chapter Four

  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 v
iewed, 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?”