An Unconventional Miss (21 page)

Her cheeks pale, her eyes large in her face and scarcely able to still the trembling that continued to assail her limbs, she staggered back towards the library door, intent upon removing herself from his presence with all speed.

Still fighting for breath, as he endeavoured to recover his own shattered equilibrium, Wyvern initially failed to register Jessica's agitated reaction. Hurrying after her into the still-darkened room, he closed the doors behind him and reached out his hands to her. Although his ardour had by no means evaporated, he had, eventually, regained his self-control and was determined this time to keep his head.

To his surprise, she shook her head and moved further away from him. With the soft glow from the Chinese lanterns in the trees outside the only source of light, it was difficult for him to fully register her expression.

‘Jessica?' he whispered, unable to understand her sudden reticence. ‘Don't be afraid, my love. We are quite safe in here—for the moment, at least!'

His hands still outstretched, he stepped forward, intending to calm her fears but, to his bewilderment, she continued her backward retreat towards the library's far side, clearly seeking for the door into the passage. Then, all of a sudden, she came to a halt, her progress impeded by the sharp edge of a small table. Reaching out, Wyvern was able to prevent her fall and hurriedly pulled her into the safety of his arms but, immediately conscious of her resistance, he frowned and stared down at her face. The sight of her trembling lips and wide-eyed apprehension, both now clearly visible in the lanterns' glow, caused his gut to tighten and sapped every vestige of breath from his body.
Dear God,
he thought,
what an insensitive oaf I am! The violence of my lovemaking has terrified the poor darling!

Ignoring her obvious reluctance, he took both of her hands in his and pulled her towards him, being careful to keep the pair of clasped hands between them as some sort of a safety barrier. ‘What just happened out there,' he began, somewhat hesitantly, ‘was not at all what I intended, when I asked you to meet me outside. I really needed to explain to you why, for the moment, at any rate, it is quite impossible that we should be seen together!'

As Jessica's doubts about Wyvern's feelings for her continued to grow, her heart plummeted even further. His humiliating words were no more than she deserved. ‘Yes, I see that,' she whispered, brokenly. ‘I have given you a deep disgust of me.'

‘Good God, no!' cried Wyvern, appalled. Then, as, with a sinking heart, he realised that her eyes were bright with unshed tears, he threw his carefully garnered caution to the wind and, letting go of her hands, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest, burrowing his face in the fragrant softness of her silken tresses. ‘How can you think such a thing when, surely, you must have realised by now that I worship and adore every single thing about you?'

Reluctantly releasing his hold, he held her away from him, a rueful smile on his lips, before continuing, ‘Unfortunately, my sweet darling, until I am able to sort out my finances, I am in no position to offer for you. The way things are at present, your brother would have every right to laugh in my face and show me to the door.'

Her heart almost exploding with joy, Jessica lifted her questioning eyes to his face. ‘Then you really do want to marry me?' she asked incredulously.

Raising his eyebrows in astonishment, Wyvern stared down at her. ‘Haven't I just said as much, you delightful little widgeon? You may expect to find me on your doorstep as soon as I am in a position to approach your brother—which I can hardly do at the moment, since I have scarcely a penny with which to bless myself!'

‘Then you have still not discovered whether your brother's mine exists,' she said despondently. ‘And I had such high hopes for you!'

He smiled, squeezing her hands in appreciation of her concern. ‘It most certainly does exist,' he assured her. ‘It is a rather profitable gold mine in South America, as it happens. The trouble is that I am having difficulty laying my hands on the papers that will prove my ownership and, unless they turn up pretty soon, I look likely to face bankruptcy and the usual ignominy that goes with it.' Pausing, he raised his hands to her shoulders and held her away from him. ‘The fact of the matter is, my darling Jessica, that I love you far too much to allow you to be subjected to such unpleasantness and disgrace.'

‘Whether you are rich or poor makes not the slightest bit of difference, as far as I am concerned,' she replied, her earlier certitude now fully restored. ‘I love you so much that I really do not give a fig for what the so-called polite world thinks or says about me!'

At her words, although Wyvern's heart swelled with a sweet mixture of pride and joy, he shook his head. ‘But I do, my love,' he replied gently. ‘How the world views the two of us is of vital importance to our future lives—giving me all the more reason to succeed in my present quest. Added to which, I have to admit that I would much prefer you to think highly of your husband's accomplishments!'

‘I doubt that will be very difficult for me,' she said as, lifting his hand and cradling it to her cheek, she threw him a smile of such adoration that the earl was, momentarily, trans-fixed. But then, a small frown creased her brow and she let go of his hand, crying, ‘But, what are we to do then? Matt is determined to go home on Saturday and, now that I know you truly love me, I cannot bear to be parted from you for weeks at a time!'

‘It will be equally hard for me, my sweet,' groaned Wyvern, pulling her back into his arms once again. ‘But, knowing that you return my love is all the spur I need to toughen my resolve.' Then, lowering his head, he kissed her tenderly upon her lips, drawing away before his baser instincts once more got the better of him. ‘And now, dearest one, I fear that I have delayed you far too long. Your companions will wonder what has become of you.' He paused, considering, then, ‘Are you, by any chance, engaged with Felicity's set tomorrow evening?' he asked.

‘Lady Helen Grainger has arranged for a supper booth at the Vauxhall Gardens,' replied Jessica, with an indifferent shrug, but then, as the earl reached forwards to tuck back the one or two wayward curls which, during the fervency of his embraces, had strayed from their diamond clasps, she held her breath in awed fascination. To think that Wyvern really loved her after all! Her heart was almost bursting with happiness.

‘Then I promise that I shall do my very best to meet up with you there,' he said, turning her to face the lights shining in from the garden, in order to inspect her appearance more thoroughly. ‘Look out for me, my darling—it looks set to be our last opportunity to meet again before you leave town.'

Then, leading her across the library to the doorway opposite, Wyvern slid open the door, peered cautiously up the long passageway, and hustled her out of the room, closing the door behind her. Somewhat shaken at the rather sudden and abrupt ending to what had been the most momentous occasion, Jessica was finding it difficult to catch her breath and several moments elapsed before she was able to collect herself sufficiently to dwell upon how, in the space of barely a quarter of an hour, the entire tenor of her life had changed. Wyvern loved her and wanted to marry her! But then, as the shocking enormity of her impetuous actions, along with the totally unforeseen outcome of those actions, gradually began to sink in, she found herself beset by a mounting panic that Matt might find out about her fall from grace. And, since Wyvern had been adamant that he would not approach her brother until he had found the deeds to his mine, how in the world would she be able to justify her highly improper behaviour? Picking up her skirts, she sped towards the refreshment room, fearful that Mr Pevensey, concerned about her long absence away from the group, might have cause to mention it to her half-brother.

Luckily for her peace of mind, the press of people in the room was so great that, when she did eventually manage to rejoin her companions, very little was made of her non-appearance, save for Lady Sarah's less than sympathetic observation that fighting her way through such a crowd had brought an unfortunately high colour to Jessica's cheeks, in addition to causing considerable disarray to her, previously, much envied coiffure!

H
aving arrived back at Ashcroft Grange shortly after ten o'clock the following morning, Wyvern and his two friends were sitting at the kitchen table tucking into the hearty breakfast of steak and eggs that Mrs Hayward, the elderly housekeeper, had insisted in preparing for them.

The earl was finding himself obliged to endure a considerable amount of good-natured chaffing at the hands of his companions, as a result of the obligatory waltz of the previous evening, followed by his extended absence from the room—Jessica's subsequent disappearance having, also, been duly noted.

‘I swear that you were gone a full fifteen minutes,' chuckled Fitzallan, as he reached over to help himself to his third slice of Mrs Hayward's succulent beefsteak. ‘More than enough time to get any female out of your system, in my humble opinion.'

‘Then allow me to assure you that, in this case, even fifteen years would not even begin to bring about that eventuality,' growled Wyvern, shooting his ex-comrade a glowering look. ‘And I would be much obliged if you could bring yourself to desist from making offensive remarks about my future wife!'

‘Your future wife?' chorused his friends, in wide-eyed astonishment.

‘Are we to understand that you actually got as far as proposing to Miss Beresford?' asked Sir Simon, quite taken aback at his friend's unseemly haste to become leg-shackled. ‘Whilst I realise that you are thoroughly smitten, dear boy, surely it is customary to involve oneself in a few weeks of dedicated courtship before one takes such an irreversible step?'

‘Seeing that Beresford is set on returning his family to Lincolnshire in the morning,' returned the earl, with a wry smile, ‘it would appear that time is a luxury I can ill afford. And, knowing that it might well be several weeks before I got another chance to speak to Jessica alone, I deemed it necessary to, er—stake my claim—if you will pardon the vulgarity!'

‘All of which appears to have given us even more reason to get on with the business of searching for this blessed certificate!' observed Holt, quaffing back the remains of his porter and rising to his feet. ‘Which reminds me…' He paused momentarily, considering his next words. ‘I dare say that you were too distracted last evening to pay much attention to what was going on around you. I, however, did happen to notice Digby Hazlett emerging from the Conynghams' library shortly before you returned to the ballroom. It has subsequently occurred to me that he might well have been in a position to observe you dallying with Miss Beresford, since you say that you were out on the terrace.'

‘I hardly think so,' replied Wyvern, with a swift shake of his head. ‘I, myself, spent quite some time in the library before returning to the ballroom and I can assure you that Hazlett was, most certainly, not present on that occasion!'

‘Just a thought, old friend,' returned Sir Simon. ‘It's as well to remember what a cunningly devious swine Hazlett is. It wouldn't do to give him anything to use against you. He would happily blacken not only your name, but Miss Beresford's too, just for the sheer hell of it!'

‘Point taken, Simon,' nodded the earl. ‘I promise to be extra-vigilant.'

Having debated the next best course of action, the three friends made their way to the stables and saddled up their horses, it having been decided that Fitzallan would investigate the hollows of certain trees that Wyvern had described to him, while Holt was directed to search between the crevices of the boulders in a small, rocky inlet that lay within a sharp bend in the Brent, the river that ran through the Ashcroft estate. The earl himself had elected to head for the Grange's dilapidated boathouse, which was situated on the banks of the Brent itself. After agreeing that a shot would be fired into the air should any of them happen to be successful in his search, the three men parted.

Wyvern made his way down to the riverside, directing his mount through the estate's badly overgrown copses. Such a lot of work to be done, he conjectured, dismally, shaking his head at the wilful neglect he could see all around him. If he could just get his hands on all that prime blunt that was lying so idly in Mr Coutts vault, he would not only be able to return his family home to its previous prosperity, but he might also invest in some of these new farming methods that he had been hearing about. If he was going to set himself up as a gentleman farmer, he decided, a wry grin creasing his face, then he might just as well do the thing properly. Other fellows were happy enough to spend their lives in some rural backwater—Matt Beresford, for one, it seemed, could hardly wait to get back to his farm and dirty his hands again. However, although he was more than keen to bring the Ashford estate back up to scratch, Wyvern was not entirely certain that he would care to be that closely involved in its day-to-day activities—that sort of thing had been much more in Theo's line.

As his thoughts flew once more to the tragedy of his brother's death, a puzzled frown crossed his brow. Why, he wondered, if Theo had been aware of the vast amount of money waiting to be claimed, had he not simply produced the deeds and collected it? Sadly, the answer to this question was not difficult to fathom. Having already gambled away his own fortune, in addition to a hefty portion of the estate's assets, Theo, in one of his saner moments, had been unable to trust himself not to flush away this final resource down the same sewer. Unable to contemplate a future without his beloved Sophie and having realised their potential value, he had managed to stay sober long enough to hide the documents, before taking his own life, in the certain expectation of his younger brother taking up the reins in his stead.

Whilst Wyvern could, by no means, condone his brother's actions, now that he found himself suffering from a similar affliction—a condition somewhat akin to madness, he reminded himself ruefully—it was easier for him to begin to understand Theo's state of mind during that painful period. And, as the wholly unacceptable thought that he might never find the deeds, thereby losing his only chance to claim Jessica for his own, filtered its way into his brain, a comparable sense of hopelessness threatened to overcome him.

Steeling himself, he drew in a deep breath, knowing that, if he meant to win Jessica's hand, he had no option but to continue his search and, whipping up his horse, he set him into a fast canter along the riverbank towards the boathouse.

This building, when he reached it, turned out to be even more dilapidated than he had recalled, missing several of its roof timbers and open to the elements. There were, as he quickly realised, very few places within its damp and mouldy shell where a valuable document could be secreted. After searching every possible nook and cranny, including those within the rotting boat itself, he was almost ready to admit defeat.

Straightening up, in an attempt to ease the ache in his back, his eyes let upon the tiny ait situated in the middle of the river. Little more than a clump of willow trees set on a small grassy hump that rose above the placid waters of the Brent, it had provided the two brothers with many a happy hour of adventuring during their growing years.

With a doubtful frown, Wyvern gazed down at the vessel, somewhat uncertain as to its seaworthiness. And yet, he reasoned, as he looked over at the islet, calculating its distance from the shore, if Theo
had
chosen to secrete the missing deeds somewhere over there, the boat would have been his brother's only means of transport.

With a weary sigh, for he realised that he had no choice but to investigate the ait's possibilities, the earl stripped off his jacket and, rolling up his sleeves, climbed carefully into the leaky craft and untied the painter that secured it to its mooring post.

Mentally keeping his fingers crossed that the boat would prove to be far more reliable than it looked, Wyvern took hold of the oars and, his heart in his mouth—since he had no fancy for an unsolicited dip in the river—began to row the hundred yards or so that made up the distance to the islet. To his unbounded relief, in spite of the fact that there did seem to be a fair amount of water seeping through the aged timbers, the short voyage was eventually achieved without the expected disaster.

As he tied up the vessel to one of the many twisted roots that protruded from the trunks of the three or four willow trees that grew on the grassy hump, a swift smile of recollection creased his lips. Having reached the ait, memories quickly flooded back of the many wild adventures of beleaguered knights or marauding pirates that he and Theo, along with several of their school friends, had played on this tiny scrap of land, scarcely twenty feet across in either direction. However, in picking his way through the overhanging fronds of the willows, in an impatient search for some sign that his brother might have left for him, it soon became clear to him that there was nowhere on this little islet that anyone could possibly hide anything, let alone vital pieces of paper!

Deeply dispirited, he returned to the boat and, with a rusty tin that he had happened upon during his search of the islet, set about baling out the water that had collected in the boat's bottom, in readiness for his row back to the opposite riverbank. As he was doing so, his attention was caught by a gentle clinking noise, which seemed to be coming from somewhere further along the bank. With a puzzled frown, he climbed out of the boat and, by clinging on to the trees' overhanging branches in order to steady himself, the earl was able to make his way across the gnarled root system towards the source of the sound.

When, at last, he reached the spot, a wry smile twisted his lips for, tied to one of the ancient willow tree roots and bobbing about in the gentle movement of the water, was nothing more than an old wine bottle. Judging by its grimed and algae-encrusted exterior, it must have been there for years, he thought, recalling with perfect clarity how he and his friends had often provisioned their trips to the ait with pockets full of apples and sweetmeats, along with bottles of cook's homemade fizzy ginger drink that they would submerge in the river to keep cool. With a disappointed shake of his head, he bent down and undid the knot that secured the bottle to the root, lifted it out of the water and, pulling out the cork, gave it a quick shake, curious to see if its contents still gave off that satisfying froth of bubbles he remembered so well. To his surprise, the contents of the bottle merely rattled. His senses suddenly alert and scarcely able to contemplate the outcome, he tentatively tipped the contents of the bottle into his hand. A shower of pebbles cascaded forth, slowly followed by the tip of a twist of oiled paper. Hardly daring to breathe, Wyvern took hold of the end of the paper and withdrew a slim, tubular-shaped package. Although he was almost overcome with a mixture of relief and excitement at having finally found the lost documents, he wisely decided that there was no immediate need for him to unwrap the package, concluding that its contents were far too valuable to be lost to a sudden gust of wind or a destructive drenching in the river. Tucking the tube securely down into the waistband of his riding breeches, he felt for his pistol, which he had stowed into his pocket and, quickly priming the weapon, raised his arm and fired a single shot into the air.

Under the watchful and keenly interested gaze of Hazlett's paid minion, who had been hiding in the bushes beside the riverbank throughout his sojourn, the earl climbed back into the boat and, with the exultant grin on his face now clearly visible, proceeded to row back to the shore.