‘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?
‘I—I—’ she began apprehensively, only to observe that Wyvern had already switched his attention to her brother, who had just that moment returned from his vain attempt to catch the young culprits.
‘Is it totally beyond you to keep your sister under control, young man?’ he castigated the boy. ‘If word of this sort of behaviour were to get out, your whole family would be made a laughing stock!’
Nicholas shrank back in apprehension, one look at Wyvern’s infuriated countenance having warned him that any attempt on his part to justify his sister’s actions would meet with nothing but derision. But she, having had time to regain some of her composure, jumped immediately to her brother’s defence.
‘Leave him alone!’ she said angrily, thrusting herself between the two men. ‘If you feel that you must shout at someone, then let it be me! My brother was only trying to help—which is more than you seem prepared to do!’
Wyvern, finding himself suddenly confronted with a pair of wide, blazing green eyes, felt as though he had been struck by a bolt of lightning. The effect was so overpowering that he could almost feel himself being draw
n deep into their viridescent depths. His breath shuddered in his throat and, tearing his own eyes away from the source of his discomposure, he cast desperately about for some immediate diversion—anything that would help to eradicate the disquieting image from his mind.
His gaze immediately fell upon the fallen tray, surrounded by the broken remnants of several pies and, lastly, the trembling figure still huddled against the wall. A puzzled frown creased his brow. As far as he could tell, the lad did not appear to be injured in any way. Why the devil had he not picked himself up? he wondered irritably. Striding across, he tapped the youth on the shoulder.
‘Up you get, lad,’ he said, firmly. ‘It can’t be that bad, surely?’
‘It’s not the slightest use you talking to him in that tone of voice,’ interposed Jessica irritably, pushing the earl to one side. ‘He’s petrified—and, given the circumstances, that’s a fairly normal reaction from a boy of his sort.’
Wyvern, carefully avoiding any eye contact with her, echoed, ‘A boy of his sort? How do you mean?’
Jessica stared at him, dumbfounded. ‘Surely you can see…the lad is not…like the rest of us…he’s…’ Hesitating, her hand crept to her lips as she struggled to find suitable words that would most aptly fit the youth’s condition.
‘He is what we at home tend to call “an innocent”,’ said Nicholas, hurriedly stepping forward to support his sister. ‘We grew up with one such as this—tall and immensely strong, but his mind, sadly, that of a three-year-old. Your lordship must see that we could not stand by and see the youngster taken advantage of!’
With a guilty start, Wyvern’s eyes shot across to the boy and he at once realised that, had he but taken the time or trouble to observe him properly, he could not have failed to recognise that the lad’s entire demeanour was clearly off kilter with what one might reasonably expect from such a strapping youth. In a pondering silence, the earl’s gaze remained fixed upon the huddled figure as he struggled to find adequate words to excuse what he knew Jessica and her brother must regard as crass stupidity.
Since she was unable to gauge Wyvern’s reaction, Jessica gave a defiant lift of her chin and, whisking her handkerchief from her reticule, knelt down in the debris at the boy’s side and, murmuring gentle words of encouragement, proceeded to attend to the nasty-looking graze on his elbow.
Having lost interest in the proceedings, most of the crowd had, by now, moved on. A young flower girl, however, came forward and volunteered the information that the injured lad’s name was Danny Pritchard and that his mother owned the pastry shop at the far end of the alleyway. Jerking her thumb over her shoulder, she added, ‘That’s ’er comin’ down now!’
Three pairs of eyes swivelled in the direction in which the girl was pointing.
Hurrying towards them was a plump, distraught-faced little woman who, as soon as she had laid eyes on the boy, cast herself down on her knees at his side, and begged him to get to his feet.
‘Now then, Danny! Up you get, and come along home with Mum,’ she cajoled him but, although he raised his head and stared at her, the boy’s eyes did not seem to hold any sign of recognition. His mother sat back on her heels, a despairing frown on her face. ‘Looks like ’e’s gone into one of ’is states,’ she said helplessly. ‘I hadn’t oughter sent him out with them pies, but I’m that rushed today. If you could just ’elp me get ’im back on ’is feet, sir, I’m sure ’e’ll soon come to.’
Glad to have been given something of an opportunity to redeem himself in some small way, Wyvern, stepping forward with alacrity, said, ‘Leave him to me, ma’am.’ Then, with an encouraging smile, he thrust his hands under the youth’s armpits and hoisted him upright, almost losing his balance in the process. Steadying himself quickly, he was amazed to find that Danny’s height was practically on a par with his own.
For several moments, the boy remained slumped in the earl’s arms, making no visible effort to support himself, but then, gradually, as the sound of his mother’s continual coaxing began to penetrate his befuddled brain, he began to straighten himself up. Eventually, he loosened himself from Wyvern’s grip and, impatiently thrusting the earl away from him, he stretched out his hands and clutched hold of his mother, uttering a strange keening sound as he did so.
‘That’s right, Dannyboy,’ nodded Mrs Pritchard as she reached up to apply the hem of her apron to his tearstained cheeks. ‘Now let’s get you ’ome, shall we?’
At first, Danny seemed quite content to allow his mother to shepherd him homewards, but then, all of a sudden, he stopped, stood perfectly still and, thrusting his hand into his pocket, turned to face Jessica, holding out what appeared to be a large mother-of-pearl button.
‘Pretty,’ he said. ‘Pretty lady.’
Jessica dropped her eyes and the colour rose in her cheeks.
‘Oh, lawks, miss!’ gasped the pie woman in dismay. ‘’E don’t mean any offence! ’E’s just wanting to give you one of ’is “treasures”. It’s ’is way of thanking you. I’d be that glad if you’d take it!’
In fascinated silence, Wyvern watched as Jessica, tears forming in her eyes, reached out and, taking hold of the button, carefully placed the token into her reticule.
‘It is truly beautiful,’ she said softly. ‘I will treasure it always.’
The boy nodded. ‘Pretty lady, pretty treasure.’
Then, taking his mother’s arm, he urged her forward, saying, ‘Lemonade, now.’
‘I expect he will soon forget about all of this,’ said Jessica, with a quivering smile.
‘That’s true enough, miss,’ nodded Mrs Pritchard, now quite composed. ‘It’ll ’ave gone right out of ’is mind by the time we get back to our front door, you mark my words!’ Then, with a quick glance up at Wyvern, she added, ‘I’m that grateful for what you done, sir. There’s not many who would’ve stopped to ’elp the lad—them little varmints want skinnin’ alive, so they do!’
Flushing slightly, the embarrassed earl shook his head. ‘The young lady is really the one who deserves your thanks,’ he demurred and, taking Jessica’s arm, he edged her forward. ‘Miss Beresford waded in to your son’s defence like a veritable gladiator! I am only too glad that I was not on the receiving end of her fury!’
Jessica shook her head and the colour rose in her cheeks as the pie-woman, having repeated her words of gratitude, took her son firmly by the arm and drew the shambling youth back up the alleyway.
Wyvern’s gaze slowly slid across to Jessica’s face. Her lips were trembling and her vivid green eyes were bright with unshed tears. His heart contracted and, before he was able to stop himself, he had reached out his hand and, taking hold of hers, gave it an encouraging squeeze. This unexpected act of kindness from one who, barely five minutes previously, had been so quick to condemn her behaviour, caused a ripple of pleasure to run through her. She stole a quick glance up at him and, having registered the warmth of his expression, her lips curved in a shy smile, the effect of which sent Wyvern’s heart catapulting around his chest.
‘You must be thinking me all kinds of a fool,’ he began, as he reluctantly relinquished his hold. ‘I do most humbly beg your—’
‘Oh, no, sir!’ Jessica interrupted him. ‘I am sure that Nicky and I could not have managed on our own. The way you took charge was quite—!’
She stopped in mid-sentence, suddenly overcome by a curious mixture of confusion and embarrassment. What on earth are you about? she chastised herself. Surely you cannot have forgotten that this is the man who has done his level best to avoid having anything to do with your family! Then, straightening her shoulders, she took a deep breath and, in a somewhat shaky tone of voice, said, ‘We are most grateful for your assistance, your lordship. However, I am sure that you will not wish to be detained any further—you must have a great many far more important matters that require your attention.’
‘Well, possibly,’ he acknowledged slowly, being somewhat taken aback at her sudden change of manner. ‘Nevertheless, I trust that y
ou will allow me the pleasure of escorting you back to your carriage—it is parked nearby, I imagine?’
‘Unfortunately not, sir!’ interposed Nicholas, giving his sister a pointed nudge. ‘Our carriage is waiting for us down at St Giles Circus—which is almost a mile away!’ Then, gesturing to the clock that was hanging above the doorway of a nearby chandlery, he added bitterly, ‘We were supposed to be there at five o’clock sharp but, since there is no way we can get back there in less than seven minutes, it looks as though I must prepare myself for the most frightful wigging!’
‘Bad luck,’ commiserated the earl, with a sympathetic smile, and he was just about to bid them both ‘good day’ when a mischievous imp of an idea leapt into his brain. Then, with a challenging gleam in his eyes, he looked directly at Jessica and said, ‘Although, if your sister is not averse to a slight squeeze, it is possible that I might manage to get you there in time to spare you that!’
‘Oh, capital, sir!’ breathed Nicholas, his eyes brightening. ‘We’d be eternally grateful!’
‘Miss Beresford?’ queried Wyvern, a little smile twitching at the corners of his lips.
‘Yes—No—That is—I mean, thank you, your lordship!’ replied Jessica, doing her best to ignore the curious fluttering sensation in her stomach. ‘If you are sure that it would be no trouble?’
‘My pleasure entirely,’ affirmed Wyvern softly. Then he confused her even further by smiling such a devastating smile at her that her heart seemed to be leaping about in all directions.
Less than two minutes later, she found herself squeezed tightly between the two men on the driving seat of Wyvern’s curricle, whereupon the earl whipped up his horses and set the carriage off at a spanking pace down the crowded thoroughfare.
‘I trust you are not finding this too uncomfortable, Miss Beresford?’ asked the earl, with a quick glance in her direction.
An Unconventional Miss Page 7