A Chance Encounter by Gayle Buck Page B

and an unknown lady came through the door and approached her. They paused in front of her chair, obviously not quite certain of their reception. They stood quite close together and he held his hand protectively over hers where she clutched his arm.
    Lady Cassandra did not even look around at the butler, so riveted was her curiosity. “You may go, Carruthers.”
    Lord Humphrey waited until the door had closed behind the butler. Then he drew forward his companion. “My lady, I should like to present to you my wife,” he said defiantly.
    Lord Humphrey’s head was raised at a proud angle and his grey eyes held an unwavering challenge that Lady Cassandra instinctively recognized and thrilled to. Her ladyship’s glance snapped instantly to the young woman’s face. The girl appeared anxious, but she was proud, too, thought Lady Cassandra as a glowing warmth that had nothing to do with the fire spread over her.
    Lady Cassandra smiled. She eased back against her chair cushions. “A runaway marriage, I perceive. My dear young sir, I never expected it of you.”
    The viscount flushed. But his steady gaze did not waver. “My bride, Lady Joan Dewesbury. My lady, Lady Cassandra Catherine Wilmot-Howard, my grandmother.”
    “I am happy to make your acquaintance, my lady,” said the young woman.
    Lady Cassandra’s hearing was acute. She could detect the slightest nuances in the most casual of comments and with accuracy skewer the speaker with an astonishing insight. Now in the new viscountess’s voice she thought she heard a quaver of nervousness, but still, the girl’s voice was well-modulated and well-bred. “I hardly think so, my dear child,” she murmured dryly.
    She was pleased to see that swift color rose in the girl’s face, betokening a proper understanding of the unusual circumstances. Lady Cassandra’s eagle eyes swept over the girl’s modest gown. The merino was decently cut, albeit untidily creased. Its respectable brown shade was most becoming to the girl’s unremarkable looks, especially the rare rose that still brushed her cheeks. It crossed Lady Cassandra’s mind to wonder why her grandson had not chosen a dazzler rather than this particular young woman, and her curiosity became even more heightened.
    There was nothing of the vulgar about the girl, decided Lady Cassandra, and she became quite prepared to receive her grandson’s unheralded bride with grace.
    She smiled warmly and stretched out her hand. Responding instinctively, the girl put out her own hand and Lady Cassandra took it, drawing the girl toward her. She noticed immediately and with great amusement that upon the girl’s slender finger was a heavy and overlarge signet ring, which had been made to fit by the knotting of a tiny square of handkerchief through and through the band. “My dear, you must be tired. Pray sit next to me on this chair,” she said graciously, nodding at the chair situated closest to her own.
    As her newest granddaughter obeyed her, she turned her head to the viscount and her voice sharpened. “Edward, you may sit there, opposite me, where I may keep a close eye on your countenance while you tell me the whole of this pretty tale. Be forewarned that I shall accept nothing less.”
    Lord Humphrey flushed again, rather resenting his grandmother’s attitude but knowing full well that he could hardly have expected different. As it was, he thought the old lady had already been remarkably forbearing in her reception of his bride after the shock that the announcement must have been to her. Nevertheless, it was not the most comfortable of positions that he had ever found himself in. “I had not intended to give you anything but the complete truth, Grandmamma,” he said tightly.
    Lady Cassandra smiled slightly, the expression in her eyes mocking him. “Of course you would not. You have always been circumspect beyond belief,” she said.
    She was surprised at the flash of temper that crossed her grandson’s face, quickly