A Chance Encounter by Gayle Buck

the dinner table. I am glad his lordship is not here to see it, though,” she said ruefully. She was struck by a thought and turned away from the mirror to look at the abigail. “Maisie, I do hope you have not said anything about his lordship and myself to anyone?”
    “Now, what would I be saying, m’lady?”
    “No one is to know just yet that his lordship and I are wed,” said Joan. She felt heat rising into her face at the abigail’s expression. She knew how odd it sounded. “Lady Cassandra believes it would be best to break the news gently to his lordship’s family, so we are to pose as an engaged couple for a time.”
    “Oh, I’ll not breathe a word to anyone, m’lady. Begging your pardon, miss,” said the abigail.
    “Thank you, Maisie.”
    Joan went downstairs to join Lady Cassandra for dinner.
    Her ladyship eyed Joan’s appearance critically and said, “I suspected you were a bit tall for that gown. You must write for your own things at once, my dear.”
    “Yes, my lady. I will be most happy to do so,” Joan said.
    Lady Cassandra shot a surprised look at her, then she chuckled. “Indeed! Well, my dear, it is just you and me this evening. We shall make it an early one, if you please. I am an old woman and this shocking situation has exhausted me. Mind you, I shall not sleep a wink for the worry of it all, but that is certainly none of your concern.”
    “No, my lady,” Joan said. She thanked the footmen as they finished serving her and took up her fork.
    “Aye, you’ve spirit enough, for all that meek tone. We shall begin on the morrow to see what else you are made of, my dear,” said Lady Cassandra.
    Joan cast a startled glance at her ladyship.
    Lady Cassandra was seemingly oblivious to everything but her repast.
    After a moment, Joan resumed eating her own dinner. She wondered, with the slightest frisson of apprehension, exactly what Lady Cassandra had meant.

Chapter Nine
     
    During Lord Humphrey’s absence, Joan settled into her new role as his lordship’s intended. Joan thought the intervening days until Lord Humphrey’s return to Blackhedge Manor would be interminable and uncomfortable in the strange household, but such proved not to be the case. Lady Cassandra treated her civilly and even fondly, though she was a perfect tyrant otherwise.
    Lady Cassandra saw to it Joan was kept busy with small tasks, such as running for her ladyship’s shawl or slippers or vinaigrette, a cushion for her ladyship’s chair or her feet, or reading aloud to her. Joan swiftly learned that she was not the material of a hired companion or, as she acknowledged ruefully, that of a governess. She would not have wanted to be forever at some person’s beck and call, even to one as stimulating as Lady Cassandra.
    Joan suspected, and quite rightly, that Lady Cassandra did not want to allow her time for solitary reflection and it was to that end that the unceasing demands were made upon her good nature.
    Lady Cassandra openly made known her determination that Joan was to be made over into the perfect lady of quality before the viscount presented her to the Earl and Countess of Dewesbury. “For I shall tell you directly, my dear, you’ll have an easier time of it if you do not commit some silly faux pas or other that could be easily avoided with a little prior training,” Lady Cassandra said.
    “I am most willing to learn, my lady,” Joan said.
    “Good. I am glad to hear you say so,” Lady Cassandra said with wicked relish. She began to initiate Joan into the finer graces of society, which ran the gamut from proper greeting of personages of varying degrees of importance to the question of her abigail.
    “You shall have to rid yourself of that girl who arrived with you, of course,” said Lady Cassandra. “I shall myself find a replacement, one who is more suitable for your station.”
    “I prefer to retain my present abigail, my lady. Oh, I know that she is not up to snuff as a proper lady’s maid, but