An Unconventional Miss (25 page)

As the kiss deepened, their embraces became more passionate and urgent, sending shudders of excitement and delight cascading throughout their entwined bodies. Very gradually, however, and despite his rapidly mounting ardour, the earl managed to regain sufficient self-control to realise that, unless he found the strength to force himself away from the wondrously compelling magic of Jessica's lips, he would be in serious danger of losing himself entirely!

‘Neither the time, nor the place, my sweet,' he grimaced, as he reluctantly disentangled himself from Jessica's entwining arms. ‘I believe there is the rather vital matter of a marriage ceremony to deal with before we take this any further!'

‘But that could be months away!' pouted Jessica as, with a temptingly mischievous gleam in her eyes, she looked up at him.

‘Not if I have any say in the matter,' he groaned, sweeping her into his arms once more and planting a fervent kiss upon her forehead. Then, stepping away from her, he jerked his head in the direction of the still-moaning viscount.

‘Better attend to the invalid, I suppose?'

Although Jessica wasn't entirely sure that, after the way he had behaved, Hazlett deserved any sympathy, she was sensible enough to realise that something ought to be done to help him, if only to send for a physician. The banging on the door had ceased, so she could only assume that the viscount's two henchmen had taken to their heels.

Wyvern had gone over to the viscount and was bending down to examine the cut on his temple, the blood from which, to his relief, was already beginning to congeal.

‘Great shot, by the way!' he grinned up at her. ‘Couldn't have timed it better myself!'

Biting back a smile, for she did not have the heart to confess that she had actually missed her intended target by a considerable margin, Jessica asked him what he meant to do with Hazlett.

‘Well, I suppose I had better try to get the villain's boot off and see the extent of the damage—I advise you to look away if you have no stomach for it!'

‘Nonsense!' replied Jessica, defiantly. ‘Somebody has to hold his leg while you pull!' And, kneeling at the viscount's side, she gripped hard at his lower thigh while Wyvern eased off the damaged boot, hastily swallowing back the bile that rose at her first sight of the bloodied stocking.

‘Shot clean through to the woodwork!' exclaimed Wyvern, in surprise, indicating the hole in the splintered floor beside him. ‘Bit of luck, really—less likelihood of blood-poisoning!'

‘Get me to a doctor, you bloody young fool!' vociferated the enraged Hazlett.

‘Not until we have sorted out our differences, old chap,' responded Wyvern cheerfully as, having unwrapped his neckcloth, he proceeded to bind it tightly around the viscount's still-seeping wound. ‘Luckily for you, the pressure of your boot seems to have helped reduce the bleeding.'

Then, with, Jessica's assistance, he lifted the still querulous Hazlett to his feet and, after settling him in a nearby armchair, along with a large glass of brandy to help dull his pain, he led Jessica to the
chaise longue
and bade her sit down. Positioning himself at the fireplace, one foot resting on the wrought-iron fender, he folded his arms and scrutinised his adversary.

‘According to my sources,' he began, ‘the Earl of Aylsham purchased the original shares for his son, young Jack Stavely, who lost them to you in a game of poker—and his disappearance was not, as is commonly believed, due to any duel to which he may or may not have challenged you on some lady's behalf, but to his own fear that his father would come to learn of his heavy gambling losses.

‘My brother Theodore,' he went on, ‘having won the deeds from you in a similar fashion, then proceeded to lose large sums of money to you and several others of your cronies. And so, when you learned of the mine's sudden success, you went to a great deal of trouble and expense to buy up all of Theo's outstanding vowels—am I, thus far, correct in my premise?'

For answer, Hazlett merely shrugged and glared at him.

Wyvern took a deep breath and, after tossing a swift smile of reassurance at the wide-eyed Jessica, who had been avidly drinking in his words, he continued, ‘Having amassed a debt of over twenty-five thousand pounds against him, you then appeared to assume that you had every right to demand the return of the deeds?' Here the earl raised his eyebrows questioningly.

‘I offered to cancel out the debt!' the viscount burst out wrathfully. ‘Instead of which the damned fool chose to blow his brains out!'

Wyvern's lips tightened. ‘Cancelling out the debt
and
taking the deeds would have left my brother with nothing,' he said heavily. ‘My guess is that Theo, having also discovered that the mine was making a profit, but having little heart to carry on himself, opted to take his own life in the firm belief that I would take up the cudgels on his behalf which, I must assure you, I have every intention of doing!'

Narrowing his eyes, he stared down at the scowling viscount. ‘I will have every one of Theo's vowels from you, Hazlett,' he ground out. ‘And, although on Monday morning you will find yourself some twenty-five thousand pounds or so better off, you may also discover that it will not do you a whole lot of good, where you are going!'

‘What are you implying?' asked the other man warily.

‘Well, for one thing, there is the possible charge of conspiring to commit murder!'

‘Murder? Whose murder?'

‘Walter Allardyce,' returned Wyvern, somewhat unwillingly, as he shot an anxious glance at the horrified expression on Jessica's face. ‘Seems that one of your hired minions took a cosh to him before dragging my betrothed off into the bushes—which brings me to your second offence—kidnapping!'

‘You'll have a job proving that I had anything to do with any of that,' sneered the viscount.

‘Wouldn't be too sure of that, if I were you, Hazlett,' drawled a voice from the doorway and, as three pairs of eyes swung in his direction, Sir Simon Holt entered the room, accompanied by the Honourable Freddie Fitzallan. Squirming on the floor of the hallway behind them, amidst the wreckage of Wyvern's earlier failed attempt to rescue his betrothed, could be seen the heavily bound and gagged figures of the viscount's two bully boys.

‘Well, you certainly took your time!' grinned Wyvern, strolling forward to grasp his friends by the hands. ‘Very welcome, nonetheless—how did you get in?'

‘Caught these two just as they were coming out of the basement—carrying a couple of bags of rather valuable-looking silver, they were,' returned Holt, his eyes glinting with amusement. ‘Thought it looked rather odd, so we collared the pair of them and, after a bit of—er—friendly persuasion, shall we say, they were happy to direct us up here. Freddie found another set of keys in the housekeeper's room, and there you have it! Hope we didn't make too much noise?'

‘Nary a sound,' chuckled Wyvern. ‘You've neither of you lost your touch, it would seem—help yourself to some of Hazlett's fine cognac, gentlemen!'

 

It was well into the early hours of Saturday morning before Jessica, at last, found herself on the driving seat of Wyvern's curricle, ready to begin the short journey back to Dover Street. The physician had come and gone, the night watchmen had been called and a black, windowless carriage had arrived to ferry the three much-deflated miscreants to the Newgate Street prison.

Snuggling happily into his side, the highly contented Jessica asked the earl when he had first known that he loved her.

‘What a question!' He laughed, as he leant over and planted a kiss on the top of her head. ‘I can hardly remember a time when I didn't!'

‘Even though I was so very beastly to you?' she persisted. ‘I find it hard to believe that you found such obnoxious behaviour particularly attractive!'

‘Well,' he said, considering, ‘I was much struck by your beauty, of course.'

Her shoulders sagged. ‘Was that the only reason?' she asked plaintively.

‘Almost certainly—at least to begin with,' returned the earl, smiling down at her. ‘But I
remained
in love with you because I very soon learned that you are also the sweetest, bravest, most compassionate and generous-hearted young lady that I have ever come across. The fact that you are, in addition, rather easy on the eye, is now merely a rather satisfying bonus!'

At such fulsome praise from the man she adored with every bone in her body, Jessica's heart swelled with joy and, her lips curving in a tender smile, she murmured contentedly, ‘I doubt that anyone but you would ever dream of describing me in such glowing terms!'

Raising one eyebrow quizzically, he commented, ‘Now, that, I do find hard to believe.'

She shook her head. ‘You would not have loved me a year ago,' she said, in a small voice. ‘I was considered to be the most conceited, pig-headed and selfish brat on the planet! Up until my other abduction I…'

Her voice trailed away in confusion as Wyvern suddenly yanked at his reins and, grabbing hard at the brake lever, brought his equipage to a grinding halt, tipping the unwary Berridge out of his seat at the rear in the process, as well as oversetting his horses.

‘Please explain yourself, Jessica,' he said, very deliberately, as his groom righted himself and flew to steady the restless thoroughbreds. ‘Did I really hear you say “other abduction”?'

Nervously registering the steely note in his voice, Jessica began to wonder whether she had been entirely wise to refer to that earlier attempt but, squaring her shoulders, she reasoned that, if she and Wyvern were going to spend the rest of their lives together, as she desperately hoped they would, then surely he was entitled to know of this rather dark episode from her past?

She raised her head and her anxious eyes met his—so grey, so clear, so full of loving concern. Swallowing her apprehension, now confident that, no matter how disgraceful and humiliating her tale might prove to be, Wyvern's love for her would not falter, she began to relate the horrifying events of the previous autumn, with particular reference to Jake's having spotted Wentworth carrying her off. ‘Had it not been for him recognising Papa's scarlet curricle,' she concluded, stifling back a little sob, ‘Matt would never have known how to find me!'

Reaching across to take hold of her hands, Wyvern made no attempt to interrupt as he continued to hear out the rest of Jessica's halting description of the failed abduction, although it was impossible for him to prevent the surge of hot anger that coursed through his veins at the unwelcome thought of anyone laying their filthy hands upon his sweet innocent darling! Suddenly, he tensed, and an expression of sheer self-disgust crossed his face. Dear God in heaven, he reflected bitterly, he himself had just been responsible for his beloved having almost suffered a similar fate for the second time in her short life! Releasing her hands, he leaned back against the squab, striving to regain his composure. ‘I trust the blackguard got his just deserts,' he ground out, unaware that the sudden removal of his comforting touch had left Jessica feeling somewhat bereft.

‘He was transported, I believe,' she replied shortly and, somewhat discomposed by the fierce expression on Wyvern's face, coupled with his continued silence, she began to fear that her impulsive confession must have given him cause to regret his earlier words of love.

‘Good!' he said impassively. ‘I hope that the devil rots in hell!'

Then, to her unbounded joy, he gathered her tightly in his arms, saying, ‘I intend to spend the rest of my days making sure that no one ever hurts you again, my dearest love—you are more precious to me than life itself. I cannot wait to make you my wife—tell me that you will soon be mine for ever!'

Assuring him that this, too, was her dearest wish, Jessica surrendered herself to Wyvern's lips and, oblivious to everyone and everything about them, the pair were soon transported back to Love's glorious wonderland where only passion and excitement rule, until the earl was, once again, obliged to call upon every one of his resources to draw away.

‘Enough of this, my love!' he cried reluctantly. ‘You really must allow me to focus my attention on delivering you back to your brother!' And, with his lips curving upwards into the roguish grin that Jessica found so appealing, he added, ‘I fear that we have some serious explanations to attend to!'

D
espite his many grumbles and protestations, it was not until mid-December of that year that the Earl of Wyvern was, at long last, able to claim Miss Jessica Beresford as his wife. Whilst Matt would have been more than happy to deliver his headstrong half-sister into another man's tender keeping, he had remained obdurate in his refusal to contemplate any marriage celebrations until Imogen was safely delivered of their first child, which happy event had occurred on the fifteenth of November.

As a result of Matt's intransigence, the impatient earl had been constrained to journey up and down the Great North Road in order to snatch the occasional few hours of sweet salvation in the company of his betrothed. Luckily for his peace of mind, the refurbishment of Ashcroft Grange took up much of his free time. Having paid off all of his brother's creditors, including Viscount Hazlett, who was now languishing in a cell in Newgate, the gradually increasing profits from the mine were now being poured into the more serious business of, not simply returning the estate to its former glory, but also in introducing the many new farming methods that would bring it more up to date. Much to his surprise, Wyvern had found that he quite enjoyed the overseeing of these procedures and this recently discovered occupation, along with the estate's mounting prosperity, was proving to be a great source of satisfaction to him.

In answer to a placatory entreaty from Lady Lavinia herself who—now that her own coffers were, once more, overflowing—had quickly revised her former opinion of her grandson's intended wife and was now doing her level best to heal the unfortunate breach between Jessica and herself, Matt had given his consent for his sister to pay two short visits to the Grange.

Although neither he nor his wife were able to accompany her on either of these occasions, ostensibly arranged in order that Jessica might select the colours and any new furnishings that she might require in what was to be her marital home, her brother had been quite satisfied that the dowager's chaperonage would be perfectly adequate in the given circumstances.

The sheer size of Ashford Grange and its surrounding grandeur had, initially, filled its soon-to-be-mistress with feelings of awe and dismay but, after Wyvern had proudly conducted her through the Grange's sprawling splendour and driven her several times about the estate in his carriage, relating to her the many happy incidents from his childhood, she had come to appreciate the deep love and enthusiasm he felt for his childhood home.

Having made her peace with the new countess-in-waiting, and despite Matt's supposition that they would remain always within her sight, Lady Lavinia had been content to leave the young couple to their own devices, merely demanding that they should arrive, suitably dressed, at the dinner table at the predetermined hour. Whether or not the pair had chosen to take advantage of the dowager's somewhat lax chaperonage to anticipate their nuptials during either of these two visits, it would be impossible to say, but there was certainly no diminishment of ardour in Wyvern's eyes when he turned to watch his heart-achingly beautiful bride, as she proceeded up the aisle towards him on her smiling brother's arm, when the day of their wedding finally arrived.

The little church in Kirton Priors had seldom been so well attended as it was on that bright, crisp day. Having dismissed all suggestions of a high-society wedding at St George's Church in Hanover Square, Jessica had elected to be married by Mr Boscombe, the local vicar, whom she had known since her childhood.

The pale winter sun shone through the stained-glass windows, casting a myriad of colourful patterns on the stone floor beneath, enhanced by the soft light from the tall wax candles in the brass candlesticks standing on the altar and in the brackets that hung from the walls. Fragrant sprays of winter greenery, entwined with white Christmas roses, bedecked the windowsills and oak rafters of the building and every pew end was hung with either a lavender or rosemary-filled muslin bag, their combined delicate perfumes pervading throughout the pretty little church's interior.

Seated in one of the church's front pews, clad elegantly in a tasteful ensemble of lavender-coloured velvet and silver fox fur, with the Honourable Freddie Fitzallan as her escort, was her ladyship the Dowager Countess of Wyvern. The whole of the second row was taken up with an assortment of Wyvern's more distant relatives, whose arrival from Ireland, late the previous evening, had caused the village innkeeper a considerable headache in trying to accommodate them all. Behind this party stretched rows of pews filled with high-stepping luminaries and other ex-comrades from Wyvern's military days, including the great Duke of Wellington himself who, upon hearing that his one time aide-de-camp was finally about to take the plunge, had expressed his deep delight, declaring that it was high time the fellow settled down and started up his nursery.

Miss Felicity Draycott, along with several of the ladies of her set, accompanied by their dedicated escorts, including the now fully recovered Mr Allardyce, had elected to sit on the bride's side of the church. Having had a private chat with Wyvern, full of tears and self-recrimination, Felicity had been more than grateful to learn that he could see no reason to divulge any of what had passed between Hazlett and herself either to his betrothed or any other party. And, having found that Jessica still counted her amongst her friends she had, subsequently, declared herself to be amongst Jessica's staunchest supporters, when the news had broken of the now very wealthy earl's intention to marry a girl whom some of the older diehards amongst the
ton
had regarded as a flighty little nobody.

Even the elderly Jane Widdecombe, one-time governess to the family, had travelled all the way from the school in Kendal, where she now taught, to hear her formerly rather headstrong pupil undertake her marriage vows. The moment that her dearest Widdy had stepped down from her chaise, Imogen had confessed her secret hope that the little governess could be persuaded to remain at Thornfield, in order that she might administer her admirable methods of education to the Beresford nursery's newest occupant, when that young gentleman should reach a suitable age to warrant it.

Having finally relinquished his sister's hand for the ceremony to commence, Matt slid into his seat on the front pew and captured his wife's. ‘I can't believe that this is really happening,' he whispered, leaning forward to beam a smile of encouragement at the tearful Lady Beresford who, as well as being Jessica's mama, was also his stepmother. She, along with Jessica's brother, Nicholas, was sitting on Imogen's left-hand side. ‘Never thought I would live to see the day when I would actually be sorry to see the back of the young scamp!'

Squeezing his hand, Imogen gave him a tremulous smile. ‘It is hard to believe that a year could have made such a difference to her,' she replied softly.

‘Made quite a bit of difference to us, too,' pointed out her husband, his bright blue eyes glinting with mischief. ‘As a certain Master John Matthew Beresford would, no doubt, be quite prepared to confirm, were he able to do anything other than gurgle!'

‘Perhaps this time, next year, our dear Jessica will have a baby of her own to cherish,' remarked Imogen. ‘She has been so keen to pet and cosset our little John that I swear I have had hardly a moment alone with him since he was born!'

‘By the look on Wyvern's face when he set eyes on her,' grinned Matt, looking towards the altar in front of which the bridal couple stood, ‘I would be highly surprised if as much as a year passed before that happy event occurred!'

‘Oh, shush!' his blushing wife admonished him. ‘You should not say such things in church!'

‘Nonsense!' he retorted, with a soft laugh. ‘Mr Boscombe himself has only just informed the entire congregation that the whole purpose of marriage is to procreate—an admirable objective and one which I most heartily endorse and which—if last night was anything to go by—so also do you, my darling Imo!'

‘Oh, do hush, Matt!' protested the now scarlet-cheeked Imogen, struggling to restrain the gurgle of laughter that threatened. ‘Someone will hear you!'

Luckily, at that point, the congregation were invited to stand and join in a hymn of praise to God's bountifulness and the rest of the service passed without undue comment from either Matt or his wife.

 

As he escorted his new bride back down the aisle past the smiling faces of their many friends and well-wishers, Wyvern's wide grin of pride and happiness could hardly have been missed by any one of them. Not that any of the onlookers could have doubted that the match was, indeed, a love match—a little unusual amongst the higher echelons, as they were quick to point out to one another. But, having seen the way the handsome young earl looked at his wife, almost as though he were about to ravish her on the spot, a goodly number of the females in the congregation could not help but feel rather envious of the new countess.

‘Have I told you how much I love you, my dearest darling wife?' he whispered, as he handed Jessica up into the open landau.

‘Not since we parted last evening, sir,' she replied, impishly fluttering her lashes at him, causing an immediate reaction in the pit of his abdomen.

Unable to stifle his desire, Wyvern leapt up into the carriage beside her and, to the combined gasps and laughter of the assembled congregation, he pulled her towards him and, pressing his lips against hers, kissed her long and thoroughly.

‘Then, perhaps that will convince you, madam wife!' he grinned, as he finally tore his lips away. ‘And, you may rest assured, my own sweet love, that there will be a good deal more of that to come in the not too distant future!'

Overwhelmed with love for her new husband, Jessica raised her glorious green eyes to meet his and said softly, ‘For which I can hardly wait, my lord!'