A Chance Encounter (23 page)

“What are you saying?” Vincent asked hoarsely.

“Don’t you yet understand? I want you to take me away with you, at once. I don’t care where we go, just take me away from this horrid place,” exclaimed Miss Ratcliffe.

Vincent Dewesbury stared down at her for several long moments. A slow smile dawned on his face. It was cruel in its knowledge. “You have discovered that Humphrey is already wed,” he said.

Miss Ratcliffe’s eyes slid away. Then she threw back her head. Her indigo-blue eyes flashed magnificently. “Yes. But if that troubles you, do pray forget that I have ever been here.” She would have pulled free then, but he tightened his grasp.

Vincent shook his head. His green eyes held a strange expression. “Oh, no, Augusta. I shall not forget. And neither shall you.” He thrust her from him. “Go and get your things. I shall meet you at the stables in fifteen minutes. Mind, not a word to your maid.”

Miss Ratcliffe had already gone to the bedroom door. “Do you think me a complete nodcock?” she hissed disdainfully before she whisked herself through the door.

Mr. Dewesbury regarded the spot that she had vacated. “What I think of you, my dear, you have yet to discover,” he said softly.

The following morning Joan was dressed early and she hovered downstairs near the breakfast room, hoping to waylay Lord Humphrey before he went in. She kept herself hidden from other risers and waited anxiously for the sight of the viscount. When at last Lord Humphrey sauntered down the stairs, Joan came out of hiding to rush up to him. “Edward! I must speak to you.”

Lord Humphrey was astonished and alarmed. There was that in her voice and her expression that instantly conveyed dire tidings in the making. He caught her hands. “Joan! What is it? What has overset you so?”

“Not here. Come into the library,’’ exclaimed Joan, urging him with her hands.

Lord Humphrey took her arm and rapidly escorted her into the library. He shut the door. “Now, what is it?” he asked quietly.

Joan clasped her hands together. “I fear that we are undone, my lord. Miss Ratcliffe learned last night that we are wed. If she were to tell anyone before you have the chance to talk with the earl—”

“Good Lord,” exclaimed Lord Humphrey, appalled. He understood at once her fears. “Augusta will pillory us. My father—Lord and Lady Ratcliffe—and Mama! None of them will ever be able to forgive me for that humiliation.” He put his hand on the knob. “I must go upstairs at once and catch the earl before he comes down.”

“His lordship is already at breakfast! And so is Lady Dewesbury,” Joan said despairingly.

Lord Humphrey looked at her, a grim set to his mouth. “The Ratcliffes? What of Augusta?”

Joan shook her head quickly. “No, not as yet. But the Harringtons and Lady Cassandra came down only moments before you did yourself.”

“We have time, then. Come. I mean to request an immediate audience with the earl and my mother.”

Lord Humphrey and Joan left the library. He swiftly escorted her straight into the breakfast room, finally stopping beside Lord Dewesbury’s chair. “My lord, I wish to speak with you and my mother at once,” he said.

The earl stared up at the viscount. His lordship was taken aback by Lord Humphrey’s abrupt tone, but he was conscious that the viscount would not violate the respect due to himself for a small cause. “Of course, Edward. You have our undivided attention,” Lord Dewesbury said evenly.

He spared only a fleeting glance for Miss Chadwick. He was not nearly so against her as he had been at the first, and he was slightly ashamed of his rude treatment of her. He had been cynical in the beginning of Miss Chadwick’s genteel manner, suspecting her of disguising her true character, but he had gradually come to realize that she was not the grasping harpy that he had so strongly believed. In addition, certain observations that his old friend Lord Ratcliffe had presented to him, as well as Miss Ratcliffe’s own appalling disintegration into jealousy and malice, had gone far in reconciling him to his son’s engagement to Miss Chadwick. It was only his pride that now prohibited him from openly acknowledging her right to a place in his family.

Lord Humphrey said tightly, “Forgive me, my lord. I did not make myself clear. I should like to address yourself and my mother in private.”

There were several interested and curious gazes trained on the viscount from around the breakfast table. Neville, who had come down along with Margaret while Lord Humphrey and Joan had been closeted in the library, sharply nudged his sister. She flapped her hand at him, never taking her wide eyes from Lord Humphrey’s face.

“Of course you may speak to us privately,” said Lady Dewesbury, throwing a glance at the earl. “We shall go into the study straight after breakfast, won’t we, my lord?”

The earl nodded. He saw the denial that sprang into the viscount’s eyes and he held up his hand. “After we have finished breakfasting, Edward,” he said firmly.

Lord Humphrey stood irresolute, then he reluctantly nodded. His face set, he handed Joan to a chair at the table before he seated himself. At the footman’s query as to his preferences from the sideboard, Lord Humphrey made a short reply.

Queried in her turn, Joan refused everything but hot tea.

“Black or white, miss?” asked the footman.

“White, please,” Joan said, attempting a smile. It was not her best effort and it quickly faded as her eyes strayed to the door of the breakfast room. When the footman placed the tea, to which had been added a generous portion of cream, she concentrated on stirring it so as to keep herself from staring too obviously at the door.

Lord and Lady Ratcliffe entered far too quickly for Joan’s taste. She held her breath as she carefully studied their faces. But she saw nothing untoward in either of their expressions. Lord Ratcliffe nodded congenially all around and even Lady Ratcliffe had a friendly word for the company.

“Isn’t Miss Ratcliffe joining us for breakfast?” Joan asked, unable to bear the suspense any longer.

Lady Ratcliffe looked at her in astonishment. “My daughter never breakfasts.”

“Of course. How silly of me,” murmured Joan. Her eyes met the viscount’s gaze. He offered her a tight smile and she began to breathe a little easier. It was going to turn out all right, after all. Joan signaled the footman and requested from him a bowl of fresh ripe blueberries covered in thick cream.

The breakfast-room door opened and another footman entered. He conveyed a folded note to Lady Dewesbury. She read the missive with astonishment. She looked up and exclaimed, “Why, Vincent has gone. He extends his apologies for his abrupt departure, but he says that a pressing matter has arisen that demands his attention. How very odd!’’

The Earl of Dewesbury shrugged. He continued to make inroads into his steak and kidneys. “Vincent was always the brooding sort, too restless by half. Depend upon it, he merely became bored with us here at Dewesbury and has hared off to find better sport.”

Lady Dewesbury sighed, but she could not fault her husband’s opinion of his nephew. She was also aware that the kind of hospitality to be found at Dewesbury Court was not the sort that could long hold one of Vincent Dewesbury’s saturnine temperament and libertine propensities.

“He has probably returned to London to that opera dancer of his,” Neville said casually.

“Neville,” exclaimed Lady Dewesbury. She regarded her youngest son sternly. “And what do you know of the matter, young sirrah?”

Neville reddened as he cast a glance at his father’s interested expression. “Why—why, everyone knows Cousin Vincent’s reputation. I just assumed—”

“You shall not assume again, Neville, if you please,” Lady Dewesbury said frostily.

Neville hung his head. “Yes, Mama.” He slid another glance toward his father, expecting similar condemnation from that quarter, but instead he was astonished to be given a sly wink.

“Leave the boy alone, Charlotte. He but parrots his elders,” said Lord Dewesbury.

Nothing more was thought of Vincent’s abrupt departure until Miss Ratcliffe was discovered to be missing.

Miss Ratcliffe had never come down for breakfast, preferring always to have a cup of chocolate brought to her in bed, if she desired anything at all. She had not rung her bell for the chocolate to be brought to her, and so her maid assumed that her mistress was sleeping late, which was not an uncommon habit.

Miss Ratcliffe’s maid came running into the breakfast room, screeching at the top of her lungs for Lady Ratcliffe. “My lady! My lady! Oh, my lady!” She threw herself on her knees beside Lady Ratcliffe’s chair and burst into noisy sobs.

“What is all that racket about? Here, stop that. It’s enough to curdle one’s stomach,” Lady Cassandra exclaimed irritably.

Alarm showed in Lady Ratcliffe’s expression. “What is it? What has happened? Is it Augusta? Stop that bellowing at once, do you hear?” Her command had no effect. Smartly she slapped the maid.

The maid’s hysteria was reduced to dismal sniffles. She held out her trembling hand and offered a small note. “She’s gone, my lady.”

“Gone! What do you mean, gone?”

“What is the wench babbling about?”

“I say! Perhaps she has leapt into the millpond.”

“Oh, no, no! Edward, do you suppose—”

“Neville, do be quiet. Margaret, pray close your mouth at once. A young lady should not resemble a fish.”

Among the varied exclamations, Lady Ratcliffe snatched the note out of the maid’s hand and her eyes swiftly ran over the few words. She turned pale. “Augusta has gone off with Vincent Dewesbury!”

“C’mon,” exclaimed Lord Ratcliffe. He grabbed the paper from his wife’s limp fingers. When he looked up, his face was expressionless. “It is true.”

Stunned silence fell over the company. They all looked at one another with expressions of astonishment, shock, and appallment.

“Oh, dear God. She will be ruined,” Lady Dewesbury said faintly. “Vincent, of all people! Vincent!”

“A most worthy young lady, indeed,” Lady Cassandra said bitingly.

Lord Dewesbury had flushed dull red with rage. His narrowed eyes glittered in their depths. “Yes, Vincent. My nephew has done this thing.” From between his teeth, he repeated, “My nephew!” He threw aside his napkin and leapt from his chair. “They cannot have gone far, John. We shall go after them at once.”

Lord Ratcliffe passed a hand over his eyes. “I thank you, Greville. Yes, we must go after them, of course.”

“I will have the horses put to,” said Sir Thomas tersely. He pressed Lady Athene’s hand and then left the breakfast room.

Lord Dewesbury took hold of Lord Ratcliffe’s shoulder in a gesture of rough sympathy and apology. “We shall catch them, John. Never fear. And when we do, I vow to you that your daughter’s reputation will not suffer.’’ He expelled his breath heavily. “Vincent will marry her, I swear to you.”

“Marry,” exclaimed Lady Dewesbury. She had left her own chair and come around the table to put her arms about Lady Ratcliffe’s shoulders.

The earl looked around at his wife impatiently. “Of course, what else? It is a question of honor—Augusta’s honor as well as the Dewesbury honor.”

Lady Cassandra cackled. “That’s rich, by heaven! When all along, on your own doorstep—”

“That will be enough, my lady,” warned Lord Humphrey. He stared meaningfully at his grandmother.

Lady Cassandra grimaced, but she shrugged dismissively.

“But why? Why ever would Augusta do such a thing?” wailed Lady Ratcliffe, wringing her hands.

Lady Dewesbury patted her shoulder, murmuring consolingly.

“I believe that I may know,” said Joan quietly.

All eyes swiveled in Joan’s direction. She was regarded with astonishment.

“Joan,” exclaimed Lord Humphrey.

She looked at him and gestured helplessly. “Well, Edward? What else can we do?”

Lord Humphrey gave a short bark of laughter. “Indeed! What else?” He reached for her hand and held it in his firm grasp. “Joan is not my betrothed. She is my wife.”

Lady Ratcliffe gave the faintest of moans. Her lids fluttered and she slid out of her chair.

The maid, who had stayed kneeling beside Lady Ratcliffe’s chair during all that had been said, gave a frightened squeak and promptly burst into renewed sobs. Lord Ratcliffe and Lady Athene went at once to Lady Ratcliffe’s succor. Lady Athene appealed to the hovering footmen to stop idling by and to carry Lady Ratcliffe up to her room.

Lord Humphrey stared the earl straight in the face. “I am sorry, my lord. I should have said so from the start.”

Lady Dewesbury stared at her son, quite unnoticing of the commotion about her feet. “But why, Edward? I do not understand. Why such subterfuge?”

“That was my contribution, daughter. I persuaded Edward and Joan that the hasty marriage would never be accepted,” said Lady Cassandra. A smile formed on her lips. “I suspected that it would all be highly entertaining, and so it has proven.”

“You are a wicked and awful old woman, Lady Cassandra,” said Lady Athene angrily, at the same time holding open the breakfast-room door for the footmen who were burdened with Lady Ratcliffe’s supine form. Lord Ratcliffe watched his wife carried off and then turned back into the room.

“And you, my dear Athene, shall be much like me,” retorted Lady Cassandra.

“I say, Edward, did you wed Miss Chadwick because you tossed her into the ditch?” asked Neville.

“In a manner of speaking, Neville. I wed Miss Chadwick because after I had run her down with my carriage, I abducted her with the intention of carrying her off to Gretna Green,” said Lord Humphrey. He was the object of several pairs of disbelieving eyes. He flushed. “I was drunk as a wheelbarrow at the time.”

“So I should hope,” Lord Dewesbury said forcibly. He went up to Joan and took her hand. “My son has much to apologize for, my dear ma’am. And so must I. If I had known that a point of honor was at stake, matters would have gone far otherwise for you here at Dewesbury Court. When this other matter is attended to, we shall have the leisure to begin anew and become properly acquainted.”

“I should like that very much, my lord,” Joan said, smiling up at her father-in-law.

At that moment Sir Thomas returned. “The carriages are ready, my lord.”

The earl gave a sharp nod. “John, Thomas, we are off at last. Edward, I shall leave you to handle whatever other domestic crisis might arise during our absence.” Followed by Lord Ratcliffe and Sir Thomas, he strode out into the entryway. An instant later he was heard to utter a curse. “Charlotte, my dear. Here are our neighbors, come to pay their respects to Edward and his betrothed.”