An Unconventional Miss (6 page)

Rising to his feet, he tugged at the bell cord. ‘You travelled up by the mail, I take it?' he asked the manservant.

Cranwell shook his head. ‘No, my lord,' he replied. ‘In view of the urgency of the situation, I took the liberty of hiring a chaise.'

‘Very wise of you, Cranwell,' returned Wyvern. Then, allowing himself a slight smile, he added, encouragingly, ‘It was perfectly correct of you to bring this matter to my attention. Jesmond will see that you are given some refreshments and, as soon as you are sufficiently rested, I shall accompany you back to the Grange. We must see if we cannot put a stop to all this nonsense!'

After he had delivered the weary but now considerably relieved Cranwell into the butler's competent hands, the frowning Wyvern returned to his seat at the desk.

Yet another problem to add to an already quite formidable list, he thought grimly, as he endeavoured to apply his mind to the question of who could have broken into Ashcroft Grange and, rather more to the point, for what could these intruders have been searching?

A
lthough Jessica made every effort to banish the dilemma of Wyvern's indifference from her thoughts, the highly provoking subject continued to plague her.

She found it hard to believe that the man could be so high in the instep as to regard her family as beneath his touch. Thanks to Imogen's godmother, Lady Sydenham, having successfully paved the way for them, the Beresford family had been extremely well received by the
beau monde
. Imogen and Matt were well liked, and Jessica herself, as she could hardly have remained unaware, was extremely popular, not only with most of the young men about town, but also with quite a few of their female counterparts.

Back home in Kirton Priors, she had always reigned supreme in the popularity stakes. Here in the capital of the fashionable world, however, it had not taken her very long to discover that holding such an undisputed position in one's own small neighbourhood was, in reality, of rather small consequence when one found oneself surrounded by a not inconsiderable number of other very attractive young ladies. Consequently, she had taken Imogen's advice and had gone out of her way to make friends with many of her fellow debutantes—with the possible exception of the somewhat stuffy coterie to which Miss Felicity Draycott belonged!

All of which made Wyvern's complete lack of interest in seeking any sort of introduction very difficult for her to comprehend. Eventually, however, after having forced herself to review their first encounter, she was obliged to admit that her own conduct towards the helpful stranger had not been all that it might have been, in the circumstances. Moreover, the longer she thought about it, despite all arguments to the contrary, it became increasingly obvious to her that the reason she had behaved so badly at the time was that Wyvern had managed to discompose her in a way that few men of her acquaintance had ever succeeded in doing.

Throughout the whole of that miserable journey back to town, she could have sworn that she had felt his eyes burning into the back of her head. Added to which, that high-handed, matter-of-fact tone of voice he had insisted on employing had merely served to increase her annoyance and, at the same time, helped foster her conviction that he was, in reality, enjoying some sort of private joke at her expense! Not forgetting the fact that he had virtually accused her of being responsible for the entire fiasco! It was small wonder that she had allowed herself to become slightly riled, she thought resentfully.

But then, when she recalled the childish way in which she had flounced off into the house that evening, her cheeks grew quite hot and she found herself admitting that, in the light of that shocking display of bad manners, Wyvern's subsequent indifference was hardly surprising.

Nevertheless, she was at a loss to understand why his lordship's lack of interest should have put her into such a state of restlessness for, no matter how much she tried to avoid thinking about it, the vexing subject would persist in returning to disturb her peace. She had already lost a good many hours' sleep pondering over the problem, causing Imogen to remark about the dark shadows under her eyes.

‘You are beginning to look quite peaky,' her cousin commented, anxiously studying Jessica's wan expression. ‘Too many late nights, I fear! Perhaps we had better start turning down a few of these,' she added, motioning to the pile of invitations at her elbow.

Summoning up a smile, Jessica replied, ‘No, please don't, Imo. I have a slight headache, that is all. A little walk in the garden will soon have me back to rights!'

Since her brother and cousin had gone to so much trouble in order to provide her with this Season in London, Jessica could not bring herself to confess to having discovered that her former excitement at the constant round of morning visits, musical evenings, assemblies, and the like, was beginning to pall.

In order to appease her cousin, she took a few turns around the garden, wondering what she could do to prevent her thoughts from wandering back to that relentlessly invasive dilemma. What she really needed, she thought despondently, was some sort of distraction—but what?

 

As it happened, Nicholas was soon to provide his sister with such a diversion when, shortly after breakfast, he announced his intention of visiting the British Museum, in order to view the recently installed pieces of marble that Lord Elgin had recovered from the Greek Parthenon.

Not that Jessica was especially fascinated by the sort of erudite topic that held her bookish brother spellbound but, having heard a good deal of gossip concerning these particular ancient relics, she had to own to a certain curiosity about them. She therefore informed her astonished brother that, provided that he had no objections, she would be glad to accompany him on his outing.

Since Matt found that, due to a prior engagement, he himself would be unable to escort the pair to their chosen destination, a note was sent round to Stevenage's quarters to enquire whether Harry and Olivia would care to join the proposed expedition.

Sadly, as it turned out, the young lieutenant's duties at the barracks prevented him from accompanying the youngsters. And, since Matt was reluctant to agree to them going off on their own, it was beginning to look as though their proposed jaunt was in danger of being axed. Nicholas, however, having reminded his brother that there were only a few more days left of his Easter break from school, was quick to point out that, if he did not go today, it was doubtful if another such opportunity would be likely to present itself.

Stifling any misgivings that he might have felt, Matt eventually agreed to put Cartwright and the chaise at their disposal.

‘He will drop you off in Montague Place and return there to pick you up at a pre-arranged time,' he told Nicholas. ‘However, you must promise me that you will be at the appointed place, sharp on the dot.' He hesitated, then looked the youngster squarely in the eye. ‘I want no repetition of last week's fiasco, Nicky. I take it that I can rely on you to keep your sister in line?'

‘You have my word, Matt,' his brother assured him then, with a slight grin, added, ‘Although, I am inclined to think that even Jess would think twice before kicking up a fuss in the British Museum!'

‘Don't you be too sure about that, my lad!' grunted Matt. ‘I dare say Jess could cause havoc in the middle of Westminster Abbey, if she put her mind to it!'

 

Accordingly, at half-past one that same afternoon, Nicholas and Jessica were deposited at the gates of Montague House, which housed the collection of antiquities. Having judged that two hours should be more than enough time to study the sculptures, Nicholas would happily have settled upon three-thirty as the most suitable time for Cartwright to return to pick them up. Jessica, however, having suddenly remembered that the museum was situated within a short walking distance of the capital's most fashionable shopping centre, begged her brother to add another hour or so on to his timetable, in order that they might take a quick stroll along Oxford Street. Somewhat reluctantly, Nicholas acceded to her request and instructed the coachman to bring the carriage to the corner of St Giles Circus at five o'clock sharp. Then, taking his sister's arm, he hurried to join the eager throng of people making their way into the building.

Jessica's first thought, when confronted with the exhibition, was that a good deal of fuss seemed to have been made over what was, after all, little more than a lot of pieces of broken stonework. But then, as she followed her blissfully contented brother around the gallery, she found herself dwelling on how magnificent the ancient carvings must have looked in their original state, compared with how dreadfully disfigured most of them were now. By the time that Nicholas had drunk his fill of the works and expressed himself ready to leave, her eyes were quite moist.

‘It's all so frightfully sad, don't you think?' she asked him, as she dabbed away her tears.

After eyeing his sister in some dismay, Nicholas glanced around apprehensively, fervently praying that no one else was near enough to witness her extraordinary behaviour. Hurriedly grabbing her by the elbow, he drew her towards the exit. If Jess was about to make a complete ass of herself, he thought, the sooner he got her out of the place, the better!

‘What in heaven's name was that all about?' he demanded, as soon as they had quit the building.

‘Surely you felt it too, Nicky?' gulped Jessica. ‘It was all so very, very poignant. All those broken bits of statues—they seemed so pathetic lying there! I think his lordship should have left them where they belonged!'

‘Don't be idiotic, Jess,' Nicholas remonstrated. ‘Had it not been for Lord Elgin, they would have been completely destroyed! He saved them for posterity!'

His sister, however, was not to be placated. ‘Better to be destroyed than be put on display with your head and arms missing,' she riposted moodily and, thrusting her nose in the air, she started to walk away from him.

‘Oh, do snap out of it, please, Jess,' he pleaded then, reaching out his hand in an effort to detain her, he suddenly remembered her earlier request. ‘Come along now!' he cajoled her. ‘If we hurry we will just have time to take a quick look at the shops in Oxford Street. You said you wanted to do that, remember?'

Jessica hesitated, then, having thought better of her actions, sheepishly tucked her fingers under her brother's arm, saying, ‘I'm really sorry, Nicky—it was just the idea of them all being parcelled up and taken away from their homeland—I won't mention it again, I promise!'

‘That's the girl!' returned Nicholas, and breathing a sigh of relief, ushered her across the road and into the crowded thoroughfare that was home to London's highly famed shopping centre.

 

Almost an hour later, however, he was beginning to regret his impulsive offer, for it was becoming increasingly difficult to prise his sister away from all the choice merchandise on display. Having caught sight of the time on a clock in the window of a jewellery store that they had just passed, he felt constrained to point out to Jessica that they had covered both sides of the entire length of the street and, unless they retraced their steps immediately, the chaise would be at St Giles Circus well before they got there.

‘We have to leave right now, Jess,' he insisted. ‘I gave Matt my word and I simply cannot let him down!'

Casting a last longing glance at a particularly ravishing pair of evening slippers, Jessica gave a regretful nod. ‘You are quite right, Nicky—we had better get back—
oh, no!
Look, Nicky! Do something, quickly! You must stop them!'

Nicholas jerked his head in the direction of his sister's pointing finger.

At the corner of a nearby alley, a group of jeering urchins was in the act of pelting stones at a young baker's lad who seemed either unwilling or unable to defend himself. As he cringed away from the assault, the tray of pies he was attempting to balance on his head slid sideways and fell, scattering its contents on to the cobbled street. While one of his assailants pushed the unresisting youth to the ground and pinioned him with his foot, his jubilant accomplices immediately swooped upon the fodder and started to gather up as many of the fallen delicacies as their grubby little hands could hold.

Dragging her protesting brother behind her, Jessica flung herself into the mêlée, thrashing out at the nearest culprit and demanding that they leave the cowering youth alone.

 

It was the noisy group of curious onlookers that first caught Wyvern's attention as he drove past the spot in his curricle but then, on turning his head to ascertain the cause of all their merriment, his eyes grew wide and a gasp of disbelief fell from his lips.

At the mouth of the alleyway stood a furious-faced Jessica Beresford. She seemed bent on shaking the living daylights out of the small ragged boy whom she held in her clutches, to the accompaniment of ribald jeers and catcalls from the several highly amused bystanders! Her brother Nicholas, as Wyvern observed to his considerable dismay, was haring up the alley, apparently in hot pursuit of three other ragamuffins!

Jerking his carriage to a halt, Wyvern tossed the reins to his tiger and, resolutely ignoring the warning bells that were resounding inside his head, hopped smartly from his perch and shouldered his way through the small crowd.

Jessica, he discovered, had thrust the snivelling gutter-snipe to one side and had now turned her attention to the baker's lad who was still cowering against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his face.

‘Please don't be afraid,' she said gently, kneeling down at his side. ‘I won't let them hurt you any more. I promise!'

She reached out a hand, in an attempt to soothe the stricken youth but, before she had time to register what was happening, she felt herself being yanked upright and set down firmly on her feet, in none too gentle a manner.

‘You little idiot!' came a throaty growl from behind her. ‘What the devil are you about?'

Scarlet-faced, Jessica spun round but, no sooner had her wrathful eyes encountered Wyvern's irate gaze, than the hot words of protest died on her lips.
Oh, not again!
she thought wretchedly, as her heart plummeted to her boots.
Why does it always have to be him?