by Buck, Gayle
He was not the same gentleman who had behaved so protectively of her at the inn or had so defiantly introduced her to his grandmother. She found him more distant, more complex, in his manner.
He had married her out of hand in order to protect her reputation, but by doing so, he had also saved himself from a despised entanglement. He had leapt at the notion of hoodwinking his family with his false engagement in order to spare the earl and countess and the Ratcliffes some of the shock, but thus he had also avoided part of the censure that would have been his if he had instead presented to them a wife.
Joan could not but wonder what the viscount would say or how he would act toward Miss Ratcliffe. Alone of all the company, she wished that Miss Ratcliffe had come down for tea, if only so that she could observe Lord Humphrey in the lady’s company.
As for her own conduct in all of this, Joan was beginning to despise herself. It did not matter that she thought the viscount quite the handsomest gentleman she had ever seen, nor that her heart started beating a little more quickly whenever he was near her. She knew that their relationship was based strictly upon convenience, both hers and his. What existed between them had nothing to do with the finer qualities that she had observed in her own parents’ marriage before her mother’s untimely death.
But here Joan’s thoughts faltered. She turned the ring upon her finger, at the same time aware that under her bodice lay the warm touch of the band of gold against her breast.
Like gold, honor was of sterling quality. She had had proof enough that Lord Humphrey possessed it in full measure. His lordship had wedded her, whatever the deeper of his motives might have been. Moreover, he had pledged himself to her a second time. Not with love, but surely with the respect and honor that any woman might expect once she had accepted his name.
Chapter Fourteen
Joan sighed softly. She looked up and her eyes traveled to the viscount, who stood a short distance away at the mantel. She rose and went to him. She touched his sleeve. Lord Humphrey looked down at her expressionlessly. Before her courage failed her, Joan said, “I believe it is now my turn to apologize, my lord. I was abominable.”
“You have a deuced temper,” he said, as though in discovery.
“Yes,” she admitted. Her eyes began to gleam. “But I suspect that I shall need it at times when dealing with your lordship.”
Lord Humphrey grinned reluctantly. He lifted her hand to his lips. “I do not deny it, my lady.”
Their interchange had not gone unnoticed. The others present, though they could not hear what had led up to it, had observed the apparent tiff between the viscount and Miss Chadwick and the subsequent patching of relations.
Lady Cassandra gave a short cackle. “There you have it, daughter. A most worthy pair of cooing doves.”
“Pray, Mama!” Lady Dewesbury cast an apologetic glance in Lord Ratcliffe’s direction, whom she was certain was not at all edified by the sight of his erstwhile future son-in-law making up to an unknown girl. But she was surprised, for, instead of the stiff affronted expression that she had expected to find on Lord Ratcliffe’s face, there was the faintest suggestion of a smile.
“The viscount cuts quite a dash with the lady,” he said imperturbably.
Lord Ratcliffe caught Lady Dewesbury’s glance, and his smile came out into the open. “Why so surprised, Charlotte? Some time ago it occurred to me to suspect that your fine young son was not one to come tamely to the cart that had been prepared for him, not when my daughter showed him at every turn that she thought she held the reins. But I was foolish enough to set aside the thought, believing that I was most likely mistaken. After all, Aurelia never saw it, and apparently neither did anyone else.”
“I am truly astonished, John,” faltered Lady Dewesbury. “I would have thought you, of us all, would be thrown quite into the boughs.”
Lord Ratcliffe shrugged. “I admit to feeling a certain outrage and insult, and I still do. But what is done is done, and I am not one to hold a grudge, especially against my own godson.”
Lady Cassandra reached across the intervening space between their chairs and cracked her fan against Lord Ratcliffe’s arm. “I like you, my lord. You accept the inevitable and go on from there. You will live longer with that attitude, I promise you.”
Lord Ratcliffe sketched a bow to the elderly lady. “I am most appreciative of your approval, Lady Cassandra. It is my understanding that few earn it.”
“Few deserve it,” Lady Cassandra responded promptly.
Lady Dewesbury threw up her hands in defeat. It was all beyond her. She didn’t understand any of it. Her mother was behaving uncharacteristically benevolent toward an interloper in their midst, while Lord Ratcliffe, who was just as prideful as her own spouse, had virtually given his blessing to the surprising betrothal.
“I suppose I should be grateful for your forbearance, my lord,” said Lady Dewesbury.
“Indeed you should, daughter,” Lady Cassandra said dryly.
“I shall be most interested in learning what your private opinion on all of this is, Mama,” said Lady Dewesbury.
Lady Cassandra’s eyes narrowed. Abruptly she rapped her fan against the arm of her chair. “Here, Miss Chadwick! I see that you have done with your tea. I wish you to come up to my room with me now and read to me. It will put me in the proper mood to rest before dinner,” she said belligerently.
“Really, Mama! How can you impose upon Miss Chadwick’s good nature in such a manner?” asked Lady Dewesbury. She was desirous of a few words with her mother in private and she suspected that Lady Cassandra was only too aware of it and so that lady had dreamed up this outrageous tactic to avoid her.
“It is quite all right, my lady. During my stay with Lady Cassandra I came to enjoy reading aloud to her ladyship,” Joan said hurriedly, hoping to fend off the conflict that she saw looming. She was also recalling how the countess had invited herself up to her bedroom earlier.
The command performance at Lady Cassandra’s bidding was not without its drawbacks, but at least it offered a graceful way to extricate herself from the possibility of additional intimate conversation with the countess. She would rather keep her first acquaintance with Lord Humphrey’s family on a general footing as long as possible, which meant avoiding such uncomfortable tête-à-têtes in future.
Lady Cassandra smiled, her eyes snapping with unholy satisfaction. “There, you see? Not everyone is so unaccommodating as you believe, daughter.”
Lady Dewesbury took her defeat gracefully, but she was more than ever determined to take her mother to task and learn what Lady Cassandra could tell her about Miss Chadwick. Obviously Miss Chadwick was on good terms with her mother. That was extraordinary enough in itself, so there must be something about this business that appealed to Lady Cassandra’s deplorable sense of humor, thought the countess with most unfilial feelings as Lady Cassandra left the drawing room on Miss Chadwick’s arm.
“My lord, I feel fortunate this afternoon. Can I interest you in a game of billiards?” asked Lord Humphrey of his godfather.
Lord Ratcliffe regarded the viscount with a shrewd expression in his eyes. “I have no objection to it, my boy,” he said in his ponderous fashion, with just the merest thread of irony.
Lord Humphrey flushed slightly. He knew that Lord Ratcliffe had tumbled to his intention to get off alone with him so that they could speak in private.
“Thank you, sir,” he said quietly.
Lord Ratcliffe’s mildness augured well for him. The viscount hoped that over the green baize table he might discover exactly what his godfather thought and felt about the surprising betrothal. It was an opportunity to press his case in convivial surroundings.
The gentlemen made their excuses to the countess and went off to the game room.
Lady Dewesbury herself left the drawing room to inquire of her butler if there had been anything seen of the earl. Hudgens regretfully had to say that his lordship had not been seen to return to the house.
L
ady Dewesbury sighed. “You do know what that means, Hudgens.”
“Indeed, my lady,” he said. “Shall I send Cook to you, my lady?”
“No, I shall go down to the kitchens myself and prepare her for it all,” said Lady Dewesbury gloomily.
The countess descended into the bowels of the servants’ stronghold, the kitchen, to inform her devoted cook of the coming deluge of fowl that the earl would almost certainly bring in that evening. Perhaps more than anyone else, the cook deplored the earl’s habit of shooting everything at wing when he was in one of his black moods. “For how many ways can one dress and cook a bird, my lady?” she asked.
It had become Lady Dewesbury’s unenviable task on these occasions to smooth over the cook’s acerbated feelings and assure the woman that no one questioned her abilities, nor was it some sort of hellish test of her loyalty. Always at the last the cook would tearfully offer her resignation and always the countess would graciously decline to accept it, and that would be the end of the matter until the next time that the earl set out with his fowling piece.
The situation was even more taxing than usual, for the cook was already resentful that Lady Cassandra’s personal chef had commandeered much of her domain. Lady Dewesbury found it difficult to hang on to her flagging temper, and by the time that the cook got around to offering her resignation, she was quite willing to accept it. But the countess’s good sense prevailed and she managed to decline the resignation once more. Excellent cooks were difficult to find, and once found, one must be prepared to go to ludicrous lengths to keep these indispensable worthies content with their lot.
When at last the impending domestic crisis seemed to be averted and Lady Dewesbury felt able to get away, she was so exhausted that she went immediately upstairs to her rooms to rest. She did not rise until her maid came into the room to waken her in order to start dressing for dinner.
An hour later, Lady Dewesbury dismissed her maid. She was dressed for the evening except for the last touches to her appearance, which she preferred to add herself in privacy.
She sat down in front of her vanity to begin the task of adding a little artifice to her face. She had set aside her long-held bias against cosmetics upon the discovery that a touch of rouge, discreetly applied under her face powder, enabled her to retain the illusion of the natural color in her face that had begun to fade with the years.
The countess felt herself more than justified when she had set down her rouge pot and her hare’s foot and looked into the mirror. She was still a pretty woman, and that assurance particularly pleased her when she thought of all that awaited her that evening.
The countess did not like conflict, but especially under her own roof. She prided herself on her hospitality and her table, and it had always distressed her on those few occasions when some of her guests did not enjoy themselves. Lady Dewesbury was quite certain that this evening would be the first of many uncomfortable evenings, and she was not at all happy about it.
Her bedroom door suddenly swung open. A large gentleman strode in and closed the door behind him with a snap. She was unsurprised by the heavy frown that still lengthened his face. The earl had left the manor in a thunderous temper and it was not to be expected that his recent vigorous activity would do more than take the edge off it.
She saw from his attire that he must have just returned to the house. “Have you bagged every bird on the place?” she asked brightly.
The Earl of Dewesbury stared down at her from his great height. He wore a long frock coat over buckskins and there was mud on his boots. He was generally accorded to be still quite a handsome gentleman. His red hair was grizzled and his heavy frame had thickened a bit around the middle, but his strength was undiminished and so was his forceful personality.
“My word, Charlotte! How can you sit there so calmly making ready for dinner when at this very moment our scapegrace son and that scheming minx that he had the audacity to bring with him resides in our home. Yes, I know all about her. I spoke to Hudgens just moments ago, and very astonished I was to hear that Edward is so far gone as to actually have introduced his doxy under this very roof,” exclaimed the earl. He ground his teeth. “I shall have something to say to him presently, never fear.”
“I wish you wouldn’t,” said Lady Dewesbury. She saw that her husband was turning a rich puce and she hurriedly clarified herself. “At least, not right away. You were not present when they arrived, Greville. Aurelia positively flew out of the room, renouncing us all. It was horrid. I was horrid! My behavior was not at all what I am accustomed to expect of myself. One wishes to conduct one’s duties with grace and dignity. Instead, I attacked Edward and I actually turned upon my mother. I was never more mortified in myself, Greville.”
“I remain unmoved, my dear. In fact, I perceive that you acted just right,” said Lord Dewesbury. A glint entered his eyes. “Turned on your mother, heh? I should have liked to have heard that.”
“Really, Greville! You act as though you do not even like Mama,” Lady Dewesbury said. She realized that was perhaps not the most efficacious tact to take and immediately she dropped it and picked another. “In any event, I do not want a repeat of that grisly scene over dinner. Be a dear, Greville, and speak to Edward in the privacy of your study. Can you not do that for me? Promise me, Greville.”
“Very well,” he said grudgingly. He had never been able to deny her anything that she had earnestly set her heart upon. “But you do not know what you ask of me, Charlotte, you really do not.”
“Of course I do, dearest Greville.” Lady Dewesbury reached up to briefly, gently, lay her fingers against his cheek.
He caught her fingers and turned his lips into her palm.
She smiled at him. It was on the point of her tongue to divulge her base suspicions, if only to be reassured that she must be mistaken, but she thought better of it. Time enough when she knew more, she decided, and wondered if she was not something of a coward.
Lord Dewesbury was removed from her by his own thoughts. He suddenly swore. “Charlotte! We were to introduce Augusta as Edward’s betrothed at that house party you planned for next week. We cannot have it take place now, not with this mess on our hands. You must write everyone at once to cancel,” he said.
“It wouldn’t do a bit of good, Greville.”
“What nonsense is this, Charlotte? Pray, do you realize what we will have on our hands? It will be a circus, I tell you. The whole place will be buzzing and there will be the Ratcliffes, trapped, unable to escape until those repairs and renovations at the manor house are completed. Can you imagine their feelings, my dear? Or mine, for that matter,” exclaimed the earl.
“But, really, my dear, I don’t see what we can do about it. Everyone is either already on their way, or if they meant not to come, they will certainly do so now after seeing that notice in the Gazette,” Lady Dewesbury said on a sigh.
The earl looked grim. He said heavily, “I suppose you are right, my dear. We shall just have to make the best of a bad situation. It will be deuced uncomfortable, however.”
“I think that the finest understatement of the age, Greville,” said Lady Dewesbury with a flash of uncharacteristic tartness.
“I shall not allow Neville to come home, nor Margaret. They can be spared the humiliation, at least,” said Lord Dewesbury.
“I do not agree with you, Greville. I do not think it right that our youngest children must be deprived of their holiday because of Edward’s situation. They should not have their hopes dashed in such a fashion,” Lady Dewesbury said.
“There is something in what you say,” said the earl, frowning. “Edward must be made to realize that his actions do not influence only himself and us, but his siblings as well. Perhaps once he sees this woman in the midst of his family, he will come to realize what a ghastly mistake he has made in disappointing us all.”
Lord Dewesbury’s lips tightened. “As for this interloper, she will be brought to realize how far out of her ken she aspires. Perhaps it may eve
n cause her to rethink her position and then she can be persuaded to withdrew her claims upon our son.”
There was something in Lady Dewesbury’s eyes that made him think for an instant that she meant to relay something of importance, but she said only, “Dress for dinner, my lord. The bell will soon ring.”
Chapter Fifteen
Joan was not able to escape from Lady Cassandra until nearly time to change for dinner. She hurried back to her bedroom, where her abigail was impatiently awaiting her.
“There you are, miss. I was beginning to suspect foul play,” said the abigail. She swiftly undid the buttons down her mistress’s back.
Joan laughed. It was good to be able to do so, she realized. On impulse, she turned and hugged the abigail. “You are my sanity, Maisie,” she said affectionately.
The abigail flushed to the roots of her brassy gold hair. “Get along with you, miss. Now hop out of that crumpled gown, do. I’ve a nice bath waiting for you, but you needs must hurry or keep everyone belowstairs waiting on you.”
“You are a true dear,” Joan said gratefully, slipping out of her clothes and dropping them to the floor. She stepped expectantly into the hip bath, and sank into tepid water. Shivering, she said, “It’s a bit cold, Maisie.”
“Now, what were you expecting when you delayed so long in coming?” asked the abigail severely, hurrying to get out fresh undergarments and set out her mistress’s dress. She had heard an earful from the other servants, among whom she was fast forming friendships, and she knew that this evening was an important one for her mistress.
All of the Ratcliffes would be at table, including Lord Humphrey’s former lady. She was shrewd enough to realize that her mistress had to look her positive best if she was to come out of the evening with her pride intact. In listening to the other abigails, she had gathered a fair notion of what the other ladies would be wearing, and that had guided her choice for her own mistress.
