An Unconventional Miss (12 page)

Nonchalantly raising one elegant shoulder, the earl gave a satisfied grin. ‘It wasn't difficult,' he said. ‘I simply retrieved yours from the waste basket in the corner of the room, then set about obtaining a copy.' He omitted to tell her that, in the two-and-a-half hours prior to his visit to the Draycotts', he had visited more than a dozen jewellers and accessory shops in his search for a replacement. Nor did he mention that the very scarcity of such fans had obliged him to lay out twenty-five guineas to secure the one that Jessica held so reverently in her hands. Nevertheless, as far as Wyvern, in his present light-hearted mood, was concerned, just to bask in Jessica's delighted surprise was more than sufficient compensation for his frantic trawl through the streets of Mayfair.

‘It is by way of thanks for your sterling efforts last evening,' he murmured
sotto voce
, not entirely convinced that Mrs Barrowman was as deaf as she appeared but, after a quick glance over to the settle, he was relieved to observe that their guest seemed to be fully occupied in working her way through Mr Gunter's plates of sweetmeats. Added to which, she had fished out a much-thumbed copy of the
Lady's Monthly Museum
from one of her bags and appeared to be deep in perusal of the juicy titbits of gossip therein.

A slight flush crept up Jessica's cheeks, as she wondered to
which
of her efforts his lordship might be referring, since the result of her affronted retaliation was still vaguely in evidence upon his face. She, too, cast a surreptitious peek at their guest, before saying, ‘I'm sorry if I hurt you—it was such a shock, you see!'

A slow grin started to spread across Wyvern's features. ‘Well, you can hardly blame me for thinking that you were following me,' he said softly.

‘Oh, but I was!' came Jessica's astonishingly frank reply. ‘That is—I
did
try to catch up with you before you left the ballroom, but you dashed off so quickly—and I did so want to make sure that I spoke to you before Matt and Imo got to you!'

She chewed at her bottom lip, a highly provocative action that had the effect of causing several not unpleasant spasms to shoot through Wyvern's lower abdomen. Then, taking a deep breath, she continued, ‘I know I should have stopped at the doorway but, when I saw you disappearing into the—well,
you
know—it occurred to me that you must have made a mistake, so I just kept going!'

‘And thank God you did!' he replied fervently, marvelling at the way her long sooty lashes framed her amazingly beautiful eyes.

‘Well, you may think so,' she remonstrated. ‘But I hardly expected to be—clutched at—'

‘For which I apologise unreservedly!' he cut in hurriedly, regretting only that the kiss had finished before it had really begun. Barely time to taste her lips really. Except that he had—just—and therein lay his downfall.

There was a moment's silence, then they both spoke simultaneously.

‘Were you really running away from me?'

‘What was it you wanted to speak to me about?'

A tentative pause followed, the seconds ticking by as each of them waited for the other to continue. Then, ‘Do go on,' they chorused, in unison.

Jessica's hand crept up to her lips as a little gurgle of laughter escaped, soon to be joined by the earl's deeper chuckle.

He watched in silence as she dipped into her reticule and brought out a lace-edged handkerchief with which to dab at the tears of laughter that had gathered in her eyes. Beneath the table, he clenched his hands tightly together, in an effort to prevent himself reaching across to perform the service for her. Racking his brains for some subject that would tear his thoughts away from the increasingly tantalising images that were beginning to crowd his head, he said, ‘I have to commend your quick thinking with that sofa manoeuvre. Spur of the moment, was it?'

She shook her head, still smiling. ‘Dredged up from my wicked past, I fear. My cousin Imogen and I were frequently obliged to resort to that very ruse when we were hiding from our governess—we were very young at the time, of course!' she added, in her own defence.

‘And the boy,' he asked, ‘the one your brother referred to as the “innocent”—did he also participate in your childhood games?'

‘Jake? Oh, no! Jake is the son of our cook.' Her smile disappeared and she cast another nervous look at the wall clock. ‘I really ought to be going—Nicky will surely be back at any minute!'

‘Not yet, surely?' he protested. ‘We have been here barely fifteen minutes—he will hardly have had time to get to Hatchard's, let alone return!'

Seeing her hesitate, he pressed her, ‘Tell me about Jake—did he die?'

‘Die?' Her eyes widened. ‘Oh, no! He and his mother went to live with my mama in Bath.'

‘You are, clearly, very fond of the lad.'

‘Yes, I am,' replied Jessica, swallowing the sudden lump that had developed in her throat. ‘As a matter of fact, I owe him a great deal—possibly my life!'

A little frown crept over Wyvern's brow as, almost without thinking, he reached across the table and laid his hand on hers. ‘Can you tell me?' he asked quietly.

With Imogen's words of warning still clearly imprinted upon her brain, Jessica gave a little shake of her head. Due to Matt's having gone to a good deal of trouble and expense, the frightful events of the previous autumn—insofar as her name had been concerned—had not been made common currency. Wentworth had been tried and found guilty of the attempted murder of her half-brother and had been duly transported. Jessica's involvement in the matter had remained a well-kept secret known only to her immediate family and to Matt's close friend David Seymour who, along with his new wife Barbara, had long since returned to his home in Mysore. Therefore, in spite of an almost overwhelming compulsion to confide in the earl, she was sufficiently sensible to remember to keep her counsel.

‘Suffice to say that I was a good deal more headstrong in those days than I am now,' she said, reluctantly removing her hands from Wyvern's warm clasp and reaching for her gloves. ‘I really ought to be going. I'm sure Nicky will be back within minutes.'

He shook his head. ‘Do please stay and finish your tea. I have been keeping my eye on the passing traffic and I assure you that your brother could not have escaped my notice.' Grasping at straws, he added, ‘You are new to London, I take it? How are you enjoying your first Season?'

‘My
only
Season, sir!' she replied, with an amused smile. ‘I doubt if my brother will be prevailed upon to spend any more time in the capital once we return to Lincolnshire—he enjoys life at Thornfield too much. Of course, I am most grateful to him for agreeing to bringing us all. I had pestered him so much—poor man—that he was finally obliged to give in.'

‘And you?' he pressed her. ‘Do you miss the countryside?'

A rather wistful expression crossed her face and she gave a slight nod. ‘Oddly enough I do,' she returned. ‘Although I had not supposed that I would feel this way, I have to admit that I shall not be entirely sorry when the time comes for us to return home. The air is so much cleaner and the woods and fields will be full of violets and primroses just now.' She paused for a moment, then added, ‘But, all things considered, although I have been having the most wonderful time, I find that it is the constant racket that I most dislike. The sounds of the countryside are much gentler on the ear, do you not think?'

‘Less intrusive, certainly,' he nodded smilingly then, after a slight pause, continued, ‘You mentioned earlier that there was something that you wished to speak to me about?'

‘Oh, it was nothing really,' she replied, dimpling. ‘I simply wanted to ask you not to say anything about the—incident—in Oxford Street the other day. Nicky and I agreed that it would be better if we did not mention it to our brother.'

‘You had no need to concern yourself,' he said gently. ‘I would not have referred to the matter, in any event.'

A guilty blush covered her cheeks. ‘I had not really supposed that you would—but I just needed to be sure for Nicky's sake. He returns to his school on Monday and it would hardly be fair to have him leave under a cloud—the whole affair was all my fault, after all!'

‘Oh, come now!' protested the earl. ‘You can hardly be blamed for going to that poor lad's rescue! As I recall, there were no offers of assistance from that crowd of bystanders and—as for myself!' He grimaced in recollection. ‘I fear I put up a pretty poor show. In my opinion, you are to be congratulated.'

‘You are too kind, my lord,' returned Jessica, with another dimpling smile that set Wyvern's heart turning frantic somersaults. ‘As it happens, I was more than glad of your help—although,' she added mischievously, ‘I have to say that you do seem to be making somewhat of a habit of coming to my aid!'

Wyvern's eyes gleamed appreciatively. ‘I would say that last night's magnificent efforts on your part leave us pretty well all square.' He grinned, steadfastly ignoring all the warning bells that were ringing in his ears. ‘That's not to say you may not count on my assistance in any future—'

The rest of his light-hearted banter was interrupted by the sound of Mrs Barrowman, who was bustling about in the process of gathering up her belongings and preparing to depart, having reluctantly reached the conclusion that it was time for her to put an end to this very welcome respite from her daily chores.

‘Thank you so much for coming to my rescue,' she said, her beaming smile encompassing the pair of them. ‘And for my delicious tea, of course!' And, as the disconcerted Wyvern scrambled to his feet and inclined his head, she went on, ‘I have had such a nice little rest, sir, and am most obliged to you—and to your good lady wife, of course!' she added, directing a courteous bob towards her somewhat taken-aback young hostess.

Jessica could not forbear from shooting a mischievous glance at Wyvern and, no sooner had she registered his manful efforts to restrain the twitch of his lips, than a bubble of laughter started to rise in her chest and she was obliged to burrow into her reticule in search of her handkerchief.

For several moments, the two of them stood smilingly watching their unlooked-for guest exit the tearoom. Then, giving herself a mental shake, Jessica turned to the earl and held out her hand.

‘I dare say you must have a hundred and one things to do, my lord,' she said, in her very best drawing-room accents. ‘I cannot imagine what is keeping my brother, but I really must be on my way now.'

‘Yes, of course,' replied Wyvern, swallowing his disappointment at the unwelcome curtailment of what had looked to be developing into a most promising tête-à-tête. ‘If you would just allow me to settle the bill, I will be happy to escort you back to Ringfords.'

Beckoning to a nearby waiter, he thrust his hand into his left-side hip pocket, feeling for his notecase. Stiffening suddenly, he transferred his attention to the opposite side, whereupon a look of consternation crept over his face.

‘Good God!' he announced, as he collapsed back into his seat in dismay. ‘I've been robbed—those thieving little tykes must have picked my pocket!'

‘But that's dreadful!' exclaimed Jessica, as she, too, lowered herself back into her seat. ‘You must send for the constable immediately!'

‘Much too late, I fear.' Wyvern gave a rueful grin. ‘Serves me right for not paying attention, I dare say!'

As Jessica saw his pensive expression, her eyes softened. ‘Were you carrying a great deal of money, sir?' she asked.

‘Hardly any, I'm relieved to say,' he returned somewhat brusquely, fishing inside his waistcoat pocket for a half-sovereign and tossing it to the waiting assistant. ‘The notecase was practically empty!'

‘Well, at least there is a certain amount of comfort to be gained from that!' said Jessica brightly, in an effort to console the earl but then, as the seconds ticked by and Wyvern's contemplative silence continued, it struck her that, perhaps, his notecase had contained something of far greater import than money.

‘It is clear that the matter is causing you some distress, my lord,' she said hesitantly. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?'

For a moment, he stared at her across the table, seeming neither to see nor to hear her, but then a slight shudder ran through him and a deep sadness appeared in his eyes. ‘The notecase contained my brother's final letter to me,' he said, his lips twisting in a poor attempt at a smile. ‘It is of no real importance—I have his words by heart.'

‘Then I beg that you commit them to paper at once, sir!' she urged him. ‘Before they slip away entirely—as they surely will!'

‘There is little danger of me forgetting them,' he replied, with a vehement shake of his head and, closing his eyes, he began to recite softly, “‘Ben, old chap, can't go on—got myself into an unholy mess—can't seem to sort it out—mine is yours now—too late for me…'” At this point, his voice wavered and, as the import of his brother's words flew into his mind, he stopped, once again aware of the terrible weight of his responsibilities.