An Unconventional Miss

by Dorothy Elbury

  ‘I dare say you’re right.’ His sister sighed, her mind still occupied with her current problem. ‘You get off to Hatchard’s and I’ll carry on here.’

  ‘Right you are, then!’ agreed Nicholas, deftly elbowing his way back towards the door. ‘Don’t you leave without me—I shan’t be more than two ticks!’

  As luck would have it, Jessica’s blonde loveliness had already caught the eye of one of the store’s harassed assistants and, ignoring the protests and objections from the many other customers who had prior claims to his aid, he beckoned her forwards and asked her how he might be of service.

  Thus it was that, barely five minutes after Nicholas had departed on his own errand, Jessica found herself back at the store’s threshold with five yards of satin trimmings tucked safely inside her reticule. Knowing that there must be at least twenty-five minutes or so still to go until her brother returned to escort her home, she was somewhat uncertain as to whether she should stand alone in the street waiting for him or attempt to walk the short distance back to Dover Street on her own—well aware that either action would be frowned upon in certain sections of society.

  Having crossed over from Berkeley Square Gardens, Wyvern was still heavily engrossed in contemplating the various ways in which he might go about securing one or two private moments with Jessica. He was just in the process of passing the haberdasher’s when the very subject of his reverie stepped out of the shop’s doorway, looking heart-stoppingly alluring in her pale green muslin gown and matching straw bonnet and, from his point of view, far prettier than any picture he had ever had the good fortune to lay his eyes upon!

  ‘Your lordship!’ she stammered, stepping hurriedly to one side in order to avoid the inevitable collision.

  ‘A thousand apologies, Miss Beresford!’ declared the delighted earl, his eyes gleaming with pleasure as he swept off his beaver with one hand while reaching out the other to steady her. ‘My head was in the clouds, I fear—too many late nights, one must suppose!’

  A becoming flush covered Jessica’s cheeks as he raised her unresisting fingers to his lips. ‘I hear that her ladyship’s gathering was a great success,’ was all she was able to manage in the circumstances. ‘I—we—were obliged to take our leave a little earlier than expected. Er—I trust that you were able to extricate yourself without further difficulty?’

  ‘All thanks to your good offices,’ he replied with a wide grin. ‘Although, I have to confess that it was some little time before I found myself able to stand totally upright! I must make a point of…Hey, you there! Steady on, I say!’

  This last exclamation was hurled at the backs of two coarse-looking ruffians who, caring nothing for the comfort of the other pedestrians on the sidewalk, had rudely thrust their way through the crowd, cannoned into several bystanders, including Wyvern himself, and made off across the road before anyone was able to apprehend them.

  ‘Ill-mannered oafs!’

  Shaking his fist at the disappearing pair, the earl turned back to Jessica, only to discover, to his dismay, that she was in the process of helping an ageing matron to her feet—clearly another victim of the two jackanapes’ discourtesy.

  Never one to scorn an opportunity when it was staring him in the face, Wyvern scooped up the packages that the lady had dropped and, indicating the tearooms situated a little further up the street, declared, ‘The poor thing is as white as a sheet—probably could do with a cup of tea—I’ll go on ahead and find us a table.’

  And, before Jessica had the wits to summon up a reply, he had strode off and disappeared into Gunter’s tearooms. Although her natural instinct rebelled at the high-handed manner in which he had bade her follow his instructions, her better self was quick to realise that the casualty, whoever she was, was in no state to be abandoned.

  Placing her hand under the older woman’s elbow, she shepherded her through the entrance to the tearooms and, discovering that Wyvern had already secured a table next to a window seat, she carefully settled the somewhat confused female on to its cushioned bench, alongside her salvaged collection of packages. Gentle probing by both Jessica and the earl soon ascertained that the only real damage that had befallen the well-padded matron seemed to be the unpardonable insult to her dignity. However, after several moments spent in giving considerable vent to her ruffled feelings, the lady managed to collect herself sufficiently to inform her hosts that her name was Mrs Barrowman and that she kept house for a ‘young gentleman’ just around the corner in Half Moon Street.

  Further attempts at polite conversation by both Jessica and the earl soon elicited the fact that their unexpected guest was extremely hard of hearing, the circumstance of which Wyvern was not slow to realise could be very much to his advantage. Quickly summoning a waiter, he murmured his requirements, which were met with a nod and a respectful bow. The tea things were no sooner on the table when, to Mrs Barrowman’s delight and astonishment, a cake-stand containing a plentiful selection of the establishment’s most mouth-watering delicacies was set before her, along with Wyvern’s smiling recommendation that she should ‘try to put the whole unfortunate incident out of her mind’.

  ‘A cup of strong, sweet tea will soon buck you up,’ he said cheerfully, as he pulled out a chair for Jessica. ‘And I dare say one or two of Mr Gunter’s famous pastries might not come amiss?’

  ‘I really shouldn’t be here,’ began Jessica, casting a nervous look at the clock on the wall, as she set about pouring the tea. ‘I promised Nicky that I would wait for him in the haberdasher’s—he was obliged to go to Hatchard’s to pick up some books.’

  ‘No need to worry,’ persuaded Wyvern, inching the cake-stand even closer to their guest with a smiling nod. ‘We should be able to see him quite clearly through the window when he passes.’ He leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘As a matter of fact, I was hoping for a chance to speak with you. I was actually on my way to call—I have something for you.’

  At Jessica’s questioning look, he delved into his coat pocket and surreptitiously drew out the packet he had been carrying. He slid it across the table. ‘It’s as near a match as I could find,’ he said, with a diffident smile.

  Her curiosity getting the better of her, Jessica undid the paper wrapping and opened the slim box. ‘But I cannot possibly accept this!’ she gasped, staring in amazement at the delicate ivory fan nestling within its wrappings—an almost exact replica of the one she had damaged on the previous evening!

  ‘But of course you can accept it,’ Wyvern assured her firmly. ‘It is not a gift, merely a replacement.’

  ‘But where did you find it?’ Jessica wanted to know. ‘Vernis Martin fans are incredibly hard to come by—and how on earth did you know what to look for?’

  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!’