An Unconventional Miss (7 page)

‘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 drawn 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 you 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.

‘Not at all, sir,' she answered, her voice not quite steady. She was achingly aware of his muscular thigh pressing against her skirts and found, to her consternation, that this unusual sensation seemed to be conjuring up all manner of unladylike thoughts.

Wyvern, equally conscious of the warmth of her nearness, was doing his level best to banish several not dissimilar reflections of his own. However, since this was growing increasingly difficult, he frantically racked his brains to find some more mundane topic of conversation that might take his mind off his predicament.

‘May I ask why you left your carriage at St Giles?' he inquired, in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. When Jessica did not immediately reply, Nicholas leant forward, informing the earl that this was where they had arranged for their coachman to pick them up.

‘We went to see the exhibition at the British Museum,' he explained. ‘And, what with Oxford Street always being so dashed crowded, it seemed as good a spot as any for him to come back for us.' He jerked his head towards his sister. ‘Jess wanted to look at the shops, you see! Although it wasn't as if we didn't have plenty of time, to begin with,' he then felt constrained to point out. ‘But she spent such ages looking at fripperies and then, of course, we had to go and get involved in another one of her crusades—as if her blubbing all over the blessed marbles wasn't bad enough!'

Jessica shot a darkling look at her brother. ‘I was
not
blubbing, as you call it,' she said stiffly. ‘I was merely expressing my disapproval of the way in which some of the statues had been mishandled.'

‘You disapprove of the exhibition?' asked Wyvern, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

‘It merely bothered me to see how badly damaged some of the exhibits were,' she replied quietly.

‘But you did say that you thought they ought not to have been brought here!' argued Nicholas, before letting out a low whistle of admiration as Wyvern neatly manoeuvred his vehicle between two heavily laden coal wagons.