by Buck, Gayle
Lord Humphrey cleared his throat, distinctly uncomfortable. “As to that, I do admit to being four sheets to the wind. Otherwise I would not have run down Miss Chadwick in the road and gotten the notion to marry her at all. Why, I couldn’t have, never having met her before.”
“Ran her down! Do I understand you correctly, Edward?” asked Lady Cassandra. She looked sharply at the young woman seated in the chair beside her, searching for sign of injury.
Joan laughed, shaking her head. “I was not at all hurt, my lady. At least, it was only my ankle, and it is very much better. I think I was more shaken than anything. I then became quite angry when I realized that his lordship had no intention of letting me down again, so that I quite forgot all about being tossed into the ditch.”
The door to the library opened and Carruthers entered with the tea tray. He approached silently and set out the tea urn and the biscuits.
Lady Cassandra gave a contented sigh. There was a smile in her gray eyes, so like the viscount’s own in shape and color. “I think that I really must hear everything from the beginning. Will you pour, my dear?”
Chapter Seven
Lady Cassandra listened closely to the story that she was told. She could accept the account of a chance meeting. Stranger things could occur, as she well knew. However, she thought there was one glaring inconsistency to the narration. “You simply chanced to have in your pocket a special license, Edward?” she asked with exaggerated politeness.
“Er, yes,” Lord Humphrey said. He had thought it wisest not to mention the reason behind his journey down from London, but with his grandmother’s question he saw instantly how unlikely it was that he should happen to be carrying a special license. He cursed himself for not anticipating it, but he did not offer further explanation. He was strangely unwilling to reveal what to him was the worst part of the entire matter, which had been his drunken conviction that he had to wed in order to escape the detested betrothal agreement to Miss Augusta Ratcliffe.
Joan noticed that Lord Humphrey had glossed over the reason why he had originally insisted upon wedding her. However, she could hardly blame him for being reluctant to appear at any worse disadvantage in his grandmother’s eyes. The fact of the hasty marriage was bad enough.
With that one exception, the viscount relayed all of what had led up to the unusual marriage, aided at different times by Joan’s soft comments and clarifications.
“So you see, Grandmamma, I had to bring Joan to you,” said Lord Humphrey.
In the course of his narration, the viscount had risen from his chair and taken a restless turn about the space before the fire. He stood now at the mantel, the reflected heat of the flames casting a ruddy glow over his lean cheeks as he awaited his grandmother’s final judgment. He studied her face for clues to what she was thinking, unavailingly. However, if he had been privy to Lady Cassandra’s thoughts, he would have been surprised.
Lady Cassandra was very much entertained, though she took care not to allow her amusement to show. It was such a dreadful imbroglio, after all, and one must pretend suitable shock and sobriety. But for all of her somber expression and quiet words, she had experienced quite a burgeoning of affection for her grandson that she had never before thought possible. The young viscount had inherited some dash and spirit, and he was fast becoming one of her favorites.
As for the viscountess, formerly Miss Joan Chadwick, Lady Cassandra, approved of her as well. The girl was unworldly, yet at times unexpectedly percipient, and she, too, had a bit of backbone in her. The match would do very well indeed, thought Lady Cassandra, and it was infinitely preferable to the one arranged for the viscount.
Lady Cassandra, without ever having met Miss Ratcliffe, had taken an unreasonable and hearty dislike to that young lady.
The first words that Lady Cassandra spoke were quite different from what Lord Humphrey had hoped for, dismayingly so.
“Edward, before your surprising arrival this afternoon I was reading a letter from the Countess of Dewesbury,” said Lady Cassandra. She began to peel an apple with a small sharp knife, her full attention apparently focused upon the task.
Lord Humphrey exchanged a quick glance with Joan. He said quietly, “Indeed, Grandmamma? And did my mother chance to convey anything noteworthy?” His lordship’s query was casual enough, but the tone of his voice reflected his keen interest in the answer.
Lady Cassandra waved the knife in a vague fashion. “My daughter’s letters never fail to bore me to tears. She crosses and recrosses the pages in such an incoherent manner that I am vexed beyond bearing at times.”
Lord Humphrey visibly relaxed. He smiled in a reassuring fashion at Joan, who returned it with a quick smile of her own.
“The countess did relate one interesting tidbit, however, and that was that you were shortly to announce your engagement to a very worthy young lady by the name of Miss Augusta Ratcliffe.” Lady Cassandra paused in the cutting of her apple as she cast a glance toward her two dismayed companions. “I presume that you are not actually getting up a harem, Edward?”
“Of course not,” exclaimed Lord Humphrey, pardonably exasperated.
“Then you shall explain how it is that you have married, however honor-bound you were to do so at the time, of course, when you are secretly betrothed to another,” Lady Cassandra said blandly. She looked at Joan. “You knew of Miss Ratcliffe, of course.”
Joan flushed slightly. “Yes, my lady.”
She did not offer further explanation, nor did she attempt to defend herself, which Lady Cassandra liked her for. Nevertheless, Lady Cassandra shook her head and clucked her tongue in a show of disapproval.
“I told Joan of Miss Ratcliffe. She very rightly declined my offer of marriage in deference to my previous obligation,” Lord Humphrey said harshly, not liking the inferred slur on a lady whom he considered innocent of any wrongdoing. He eyed his grandmother. The proud look had returned to his cold gray eyes.
“How very sporting of you, my dear,” murmured Lady Cassandra.
Lord Humphrey practically ground his teeth. “That obligation was never formally acknowledged by myself to Miss Ratcliffe,” he said sharply. “According to the agreement made between my father and Lord Ratcliffe on the day of Augusta’s birth, I was to offer for her hand when I reached five-and-twenty and thus further strengthen a long and dear friendship between my parents and my godparents.’’
“Idiots all,” said Lady Cassandra without heat. She had heard the story once years before, when her daughter had conveyed the information in that maudlin sentimental way that always set up Lady Cassandra’s back.
On that occasion, she recalled, she had reacted with such acerbity that the pretty tale had never been referred to again in her presence. Naturally, that accounted for the length of the explanation in the countess’s letter to remind her of the circumstances behind the viscount’s upcoming nuptials. But the viscount had put a firm oar of his own into the serene waters and that must roil the depths just a bit.
Lady Cassandra took note of her grandson’s expression of astonishment. “Did you assume that I would condone such sentimental claptrap? How little you know of me, my boy.” She reflected a moment. “And how little I know of you, I have discovered, and much to my chagrin.” She shrugged. “But that is neither here nor there. What must be decided is how we shall go on.”
“We, Grandmamma?” asked Lord Humphrey, hardly daring to hope that he had found an ally, after all. He left the mantel and went to perch comfortably on the arm of a chair.
Lady Cassandra fixed him with a withering stare. “You are perhaps becoming deaf at your tender years, Edward?”
Lord Humphrey grinned. “No, Grandmamma. I brought Joan to you in just such hopes of your understanding. I wish to spare her as much embarrassment as possible, despite the odd circumstances.”
Lady Cassandra nodded in satisfaction. She turned to her grandson’s bride.
Joan had sat quietly by, her somber regard turning from one to the other of her
companions as they spoke. Her gaze now fixed on Lady Cassandra’s face as she waited to hear what the grand lady would say to it all. Her heart beat rather fast with her nervousness. She sternly reminded herself that she must bear whatever was decided, for with the viscount’s ring and the exchange of vows between them, she had accepted as well whatever difficulties must arise.
“My dear, we must contrive a plausible story for you. I agree with Edward that scandal must be avoided at all costs. A runaway marriage is not at all the thing, even in more informal circles than ours. It will be best to cover up the very existence of the marriage,” said Lady Cassandra.
Joan was completely taken aback by her ladyship’s verdict. Though she had thought that she could expect resistance and even unfriendliness, she had never dreamed that Lady Cassandra would actually repudiate her. Casting an appalled glance at the viscount, she saw that he was equally stunned.
“What are you about, Grandmamma?” Lord Humphrey asked. His gray eyes had darkened. He said softly, “I’ll not deny my wife.”
Joan cast his lordship another swift, startled glance. The iron determination in his voice gave her a strange, fluttering feeling deep within her.
“I am not asking you to compromise your honor, Edward,” said Lady Cassandra tartly. “Exercise a bit of patience, I pray you. Joan, when you arrive at Dewesbury, you shall be engaged to my grandson.”
Joan looked at Lady Cassandra, struggling to make sense of her ladyship’s convolutions. She shook her head in defeated bewilderment. “Engaged, my lady? But why?”
“That is ridiculous. I cannot conceive how a bogus engagement will aid matters in the least,” Lord Humphrey said impatiently.
“Can you not, Edward?” asked Lady Cassandra sardonically. As his lips parted, she threw up her hand in a commanding fashion. “No, allow me to finish before you leap forward with all sorts of objections. A runaway marriage cannot simply be swept under the rug, my dears, no matter with what amount of discretion it is handled. The announcement of your hole-in-the-wall marriage will cause quite an upset within the family, and the particulars must at some point involve public scandal. It is simply too delicious a story to be kept close in the bosom of one’s family. I can easily bring to mind at least three relations who would spread the tale with all speed, though naturally with appropriate expression of horror and piety. It would be disastrous.”
Lord Humphrey was brought up short by his grandmother’s comprehensive observations. “Aye,” he agreed gloomily.
Joan glanced fleetingly at him. She thought that he must already be regretting his noble impetuosity toward her and it was an unbearable thought. She owed his lordship so much already. “What then do you propose by this false engagement, my lady?” she asked quietly.
Lady Cassandra smiled at her approvingly, liking the young woman’s practical air. “Why, only that you shall arrive at Dewesbury as the viscount’s well-bred intended rather than his hurriedly acquired wife. I do not think that it would be wise to allow it to be believed that you married as a means to escape Miss Ratcliffe’s pretty hands, Edward.”
At that statement, the viscount gave a sardonic crack of laughter. “Devil a bit. That is not far off the mark,” he said.
Joan lowered her eyes, gazing unseeingly at her folded hands. She was surprised at how jarringly the viscount’s acknowledgment struck her. Suddenly she began to see the whole picture from a slightly different angle than before.
But surely his lordship had meant it when he had said that his honor demanded that he should shield her from scandal. Surely she was seen by his lordship as more than a convenient excuse out of a distasteful alliance.
Surely her own motives were not so despicably mercenary as she now perceived them to be.
Thoughts of honor and cowardice swirled before her mind’s eye—whether hers or the viscount’s, she could not discern.
Lady Cassandra was speaking again. “We shall insert a modest announcement in the Gazette so that the engagement will have formal and public recognition, not easily to be ignored, you see. You, my erring grandson, will have the opportunity to smooth over matters between your parents and Lord and Lady Ratcliffe concerning the outdated agreement involving yourself and Miss Ratcliffe. And Joan shall have an opportunity to win over the family to herself without the hostile consternation that an immediate announcement of your marriage would visit upon her head. In a few months’ time, there will be a proper wedding and the earl and my dear daughter need never know of the runaway match.”
Lord Humphrey had listened first with skepticism but then with growing admiration and enthusiasm. “Ma’am, it is a brilliant scheme! Everything will seem to be aboveboard and quite respectable. The family shall take an engagement much easier than the dreadful draft that a runaway marriage would be to their consequence. We shall not have a whiff of scandal.”
He did not say so, but he was greatly relieved. It had weighed more heavily on his conscience than he cared to admit that in order to do the honorable thing by Joan, he had to face the prospect of gravely wounding his parents and exposing them to the most distasteful of scandals.
But now he thought that with a little luck and a silver tongue he might come off better than he deserved. His godparents were fond of him, he knew, and he thought that he would be able to bring them around as well. Then all would be comfortable and his wife need not go through the crucifying that she must otherwise endure.
The image of Miss Ratcliffe’s lovely face floated through his mind. Though he dreaded the scenes with his parents and godparents, he nevertheless was certain that he would vastly prefer to face their condemnations and protestations than those of his former intended. Miss Ratcliffe had a peculiar talent for flaying him alive, and in the past his only recourse had been to walk away. His position as her future spouse had left his hands tied in his dealings with her.
He quite suddenly realized that it no longer mattered what Miss Ratcliffe thought or desired. The fact of his marriage— his engagement, he amended to himself—changed matters dramatically. He was a free man at last. He grinned faintly to himself with an edge of anticipation.
“What is it that you find so amusing, Edward?”
Lord Humphrey looked up to find that his grandmother was regarding him with sharpened eyes. His smile broadened. “I fear that I am somewhat a villain at heart, Grandmamma.”
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.”
Chapter Eight
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 min
d 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.
