A Chance Encounter

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2014 © Gayle Buck

All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Lord Humphrey
was in a black mood. It was time to make good on a long-held understanding and offer for the hand of his godparents’ daughter, Miss Augusta Ratcliffe.

The Earl and Countess of Dewesbury had been fast friends with Lord and Lady Ratcliffe for decades. When the viscount was five years old, Lord and Lady Ratcliffe had been blessed with the birth of their only daughter, and in the excess of celebration that followed, the Earl of Dewesbury had expansively suggested a closer tie between their families, thus bringing about the understanding that upon reaching his majority at five-and-twenty, the viscount would offer for Miss Augusta Ratcliffe.

The young viscount had not then understood the implications of what was being said over his head. As he stared down at his future wife, reddened of face and shrilling at the top of her lungs, his prominent feeling was one of fascinated revulsion. Through the years his feelings for Lady Augusta Ratcliffe had changed only slightly, and not for the better.

Lord Humphrey detested Miss Ratcliffe. She had always played off her airs against him and treated him with the smug possessiveness that one usually reserved for a pedigreed lapdog.

Lord Humphrey avoided his intended as much as was humanly possible during their respective childhoods. When the time came for him to be sent off to school, he welcomed the opportunity to leave Miss Ratcliffe behind; and later, when he had established himself in London society, he had felt himself even freer of her cloying presence.

But ever since Miss Ratcliffe had first taken her bows into London society, it had become rather more difficult to ignore her existence. It did not take long before the circles in which they both moved became aware of Miss Ratcliffe’s possessiveness and of his lordship’s tangible dislike of her. It became quite an amusing thing for the society to watch, especially when it somehow became known that the viscount was bound by familial duty to offer for the lady.

Of late there had even been bets laid in the clubs regarding when the offer would be made.

Lord Humphrey had celebrated his upcoming twenty-fifth birthday by getting thoroughly drunk. He had been unusually ripe for any outrageous scheme put to him by his cronies. Perhaps he hoped to either get himself killed or at the least become so completely inebriated as to inspire permanent amnesia. The result had been two wild days of carousing, horse races, and fisticuffs—from which he came away sporting a purple bruise across one cheekbone—culminating in a raucous party hostessed by a set of demimondaines.

Lord Humphrey vaguely recalled attempting to drum up a duel over some lovely’s charms. He had quite charmingly announced his ambition of putting a period to his now-damned existence. However, none of his friends had taken his aggressive declarations to heart and so he remained alive and whole, somewhat to his disgust.

Now dusk was falling on his last day of freedom. His head was pounding and his acute discomfort was not aided by the motion of the speeding phaeton.

He was driving down from London to his country estate. In the morning, with the coming dawn and grim sobriety, he would continue on to the family seat, where he expected to be congratulated by his parents on his upcoming nuptials, and from thence to the Ratcliffe Manor to formally ask for the hand of Miss Ratcliffe.

In his coat pocket was a special license obtained the week before by petition from the Archbishop of Canterbury. At his feet was a small valise packed with the bare essentials required by a gentleman traveling over the weekend without his valet.

Lord Humphrey intended to have the disagreeable business done and over with without spurious delay and false celebration. He had no intention of playing either the dignified fiancé or the happy bridegroom, and so he would tell everyone. He wanted the knot tied that same weekend in the privacy of the family chapel, without the added gall of fanfare and wedding breakfast afterward. He knew that his insistence would cause general dismay and even anger in some quarters, especially with Miss Ratcliffe. However, he felt that if he was to be forced into a distasteful marriage, it would at least be done in the manner he wanted it.

Afterward, he would return at once to London. Miss Ratcliffe could do what she damn well wished, he thought grimly.

Through the pounding haze that encompassed his mind, Lord Humphrey reflected bitterly on the chains of honor that had bound him to a loathsome future. The understanding between himself and Miss Ratcliffe was concocted before either was of an age to understand. He had been brought up in the belief that the informal agreement between his parents and his godparents was irrefutable. He did not want to marry at all, but any lady would be infinitely preferable to the bride chosen for him.

Unfortunately, Miss Ratcliffe did not return his distaste. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the lady would not set him free of the obligation. Miss Ratcliffe, too, had been raised with the idea that her future was neatly tied up and she had on frequent occasions made known that she quite fancied herself mistress of the huge establishment that would pass to the viscount upon his parents’ demise.

Miss Ratcliffe had been on the town for three Seasons. Lord Humphrey had hoped that she would find someone more to her liking, but with the passing of each Season Miss Ratcliffe had remained unattached. Miss Ratcliffe was never backward in informing him how many and whose offers she had turned down in preference to the one that he had yet to voice formally to her. There was always an arrogant coyness in her voice on these occasions that never failed to set his lordship’s teeth on edge. Lord Humphrey had felt himself to be regarded as little more than a pet on a chain, never allowed to stray far or to express himself against the wishes of his mistress.

Lord Humphrey was so occupied with his angry thoughts that as he rounded a bend in the narrow road, a small shadow passing in front of him did not immediately command his attention. Before he was aware of its happening, his carriage had nearly bowled straight over the pedestrian. The small figure flew to one side, narrowly avoiding the oncoming phaeton’s wheels.

Appalled and shaken, Lord Humphrey pulled up his team. Hastily snubbing the reins, he leapt down from his phaeton and ran back to the side of the road where the woman had flung herself aside to escape the rush of his carriage. His worst fears were assuaged somewhat when he saw that she was moving. “I am so frightfully sorry. I say, are you quite all right?” he asked anxiously.

“I believe so. At least, I think so,” the woman answered in a somewhat dazed manner.

“Here, let me help you out of the ditch. It is the least that I can do,” Lord Humphrey said, jumping down into the ankle-deep water. He was completely unheeding of the mud spattering onto his exquisitely shined top boots. The viscount bent to put his hand under the woman’s elbow. She allowed him to help her to her feet, but suddenly she cried out and abruptly sagged against him. Not quite sober, Lord Humphrey staggered with the unexpected weight. Recovering himself with some difficulty and thoroughly alarmed, he exclaimed, “What is it? Are you hurt?”

The young woman bit her lip. She raised her eyes fleetingly to his. “My ankle. I must have twisted it when I leapt into the ditch.”

He saw even in the poor light that her face was unnaturally white and that her eyes held a sickened expression. “Up you go, then,” he said brusquely. Without further ado, he swept her up into his arms and staggered unsteadily out of the ditch. Breathing heavily at the exertion, he deposited her inelegantly onto the seat of the phaeton. The young woman righted herself, her color somewhat recovered and heightened by his unexpected gallantry. She readjusted her bonnet with a slightly shaking hand.

Lord Humphrey climbed up beside his passenger and picked up the leather traces. “I shall drive you to your destination, if you will but give me the direction,” he said.

She did so in a low uncertain voice, apparently mistrusting his driving ability after the exhibition that she had so lately been privileged to. But drunk or sober, Lord Humphrey was accorded to be an excellent whip. He kept the team to a decorous pace and after a few moments his passenger was confident enough to loosen her death’s grip on the seat rail.

Lord Humphrey glanced over at the young woman. “I am Lord Humphrey. I was not paying as close attention to my driving as I should have been, or I would have seen you
in
time. I most humbly beg your pardon, Miss . . . ?”

“Miss Joan Chadwick,” she supplied. After a pause, she said, “Your apologies are accepted, my lord. It was foolish of me to have been on the road so late in the evening. I do not wonder that you did not perceive me in the dusk.”

It struck the viscount as an odd thing, indeed, that a young woman should be walking alone along a country lane so late. “What are you doing walking at this time of evening?” he asked curiously.

“I was returning to the place where I am staying after being to the village on errands,” Miss Chadwick said briefly.

Lord Humphrey’s curiosity was not satisfied, and if anything, it was heightened. Miss Chadwick’s activities posed a welcome diversion from his despondent thoughts and he pursued the topic of her errands. “I have been through that village any number of times and I have never thought of a reason to stop. What errands could you possibly find to do in that sleepy village?”

After an astonished glance for his lordship’s unusual lack of civil indifference, Miss Chadwick realized that her escort was somewhat the worse for having consumed spirits. Strong drink was something she knew very little about, but she had often heard woeful tales about the odd affects it had on some individuals, often causing the person to be unusually tenacious over some notion or other. She therefore decided to set aside her natural umbrage at the viscount’s nosiness and answer him fully and simply so that he would not persist in his questioning.

Lord Humphrey learned that Miss Chadwick was the daughter of a vicar. Her father had died, and as the vicar was a widower with little to his name but a few published works, she had had no alternative but to seek refuge with an old family friend until she could gather her resources together enough to earn her own living.

“I hope to find a post as a needlewoman or as a governess. That is what I was doing in the village, sending in an advertisement to the London
Gazette
in order to find a suitable position,” she said.

Lord Humphrey was struck by the gloomy future that Miss Chadwick had outlined for herself. It was nearly as bleak as his own, he thought blearily. He cast a thoughtful glance at his slim companion. Miss Chadwick appeared to be a well-bred and well-educated young woman, who would certainly be quite wasted in such positions, and he said so.

“I don’t think that will do for you, my girl. You’d be bored silly within a week of mending someone’s dirty laundry. As for working as a governess, you’d be sent packing in a fortnight,” he said frankly.

“Sir!” Miss Chadwick was taken aback and somewhat piqued at what she construed as a slight against her abilities. “Why, I hardly think that you are any judge to say such a thing, my lord. I am perfectly capable of teaching in any number of subjects, being quite conversant in Italian and French and-”

“You need not rattle off your qualifications to me. After all, I am not dangling a governess’s post in front of your nose,” said Viscount Humphrey with asperity.

“No, you are not,” Miss Chadwick replied. She remained silent for a moment, during which she struggled to gain firm control of her feelings. “However, I do take gentle offense at your unwillingness to see that I should make an excellent governess.”

He threw a harried glance at her. “What I meant was, you’ve an appealing face. Miss Chadwick, too appealing
to
suit a governess. Even in this light, anyone can see that.”

Miss Chadwick was once more reduced to silence. She did not know whether she should be flattered or amused by the backhand compliment. She said finally, “Perhaps that is so, my lord. Nevertheless, one must do whatever is necessary to get on with one’s life, and in the best possible style that is open to one. Do you not agree, my lord?”

Lord Humphrey was frowning, as he had been for several moments. While he conversed with Miss Chadwick an odd notion had popped into his head that had gradually begun to take possession of his mind.

Now, at Miss Chadwick’s words, he slewed his head around. His eyes held obvious surprise and some other indefinable emotion, almost a suspended excitement. “Lord, I don’t know why I did not think of it before,’’ he murmured.

He suddenly smiled with such charm that Miss Chadwick was dazzled. “Miss Chadwick, you are precisely right. One should arrange one’s life in the best possible style open to one. I most humbly thank you for opening my eyes to it before it became too late.”

“Whatever are you talking about, my lord?” Miss Chadwick asked, understandably confused.

Lord Humphrey whipped up his team. “I cannot think of the least objection to it, actually.” He turned to his passenger and regarded her with a somewhat anxious air. “What say you, Miss Chadwick? Can you think of any objections?”

“No, certainly not,” said Miss Chadwick, not really attending as she eyed with misgiving the increasing speed of the team. She gripped the seat rail again. “My lord, I hesitate to point out something that is most likely of little consequence to yourself, but I do have an inordinate fear of fast carriages and—” She suddenly saw a landmark whip past. “My lord! You have missed my turning. The house is down the lane that we just passed.”