An Unconventional Miss. Dorothy Elbury

pounds, as well as being sole heir to her father’s estates—one of which, if you recall, borders the most westerly side of Ashcroft. It would be hard to hit upon a more satisfactory solution to our difficulties! In addition to which, rumour has it that she has been carrying the torch for you ever since you were at Cambridge!’

      An expression of acute displeasure crossed Wyvern’s face. ‘If it’s all the same to you,’ he returned hurriedly, ‘I would just as soon not further my acquaintance with Miss Draycott.’

      Shaking her head, the countess rapped him sharply on the wrist with her fan. ‘You are in no position to be overly particular, Benedict,’ she said sharply. ‘Gals who are both wealthy and comely tend to have their pick of the town’s beaux! And, unfortunately for us, the market appears to have conjured up very few pretty faces this Season—apart from the Beresford chit, of course, but she—’

      Wyvern’s ears immediately pricked up. ‘Beresford?’ he asked, his eyes agleam with curiosity.

      His grandmother shrugged an elegant shoulder. ‘Jessica Beresford, current Belle of all the Balls!’ she said carelessly. ‘A cit’s daughter, of course, but he was one of those nabobs who came back from India positively dripping in lard. I once met the man, Sir Matthew Beresford—dead now, so I’m informed—encroaching little nobody he was, especially after he got his knighthood! Married an Emily Herrington, then took her off to India, where she died giving birth to the gal’s half-brother—who, I understand, is also Matthew by name.’

      ‘Half-brother?’ frowned Wyvern who, having found his attention all at once diverted by the most vivid memory of a pair of flashing green eyes, was desperately trying to keep up with his grandparent’s mercurial change of direction.

      Lady Lavinia nodded. ‘The present Mr Beresford,’ she told him. ‘Seems the father would have nothing to do with the boy—blamed him for his wife’s death or some such nonsense! Anyway, Sir Matthew married again, a Blanche Deveril—I am not familiar with the family—and that marriage produced a further two offspring. Then, last year, this Mr Beresford turned up and laid claim to his dead father’s estate, married his stepmother’s niece and is now the Jessica chit’s guardian!’

      Pausing for breath, she cast an inquisitive glance in her grandson’s direction, but then, having registered the riveted expression on his face, shook her head.

      ‘Jessica Beresford is not for you, Benedict,’ she said decisively. ‘I am reliably informed that her half-brother has inherited the bulk of Sir Matthew’s estate. The girl is worth a mere five thousand a year and, whilst such a sum may be sufficient to have half the town’s swells beating a path to her front door, it is not nearly enough for our purpose!’

      ‘Calm yourself, Grandmama,’ returned Wyvern, with a wry grin. ‘I assure you that I have no intention of joining the ranks of those ramshackle bucks! I have already had the dubious pleasure of meeting the young lady in question and find myself singularly disinclined to pursue the acquaintance.’

      But then, having recalled his odd action regarding Jessica’s handkerchief, he flushed slightly and, in order to redirect his grandmother’s attention, queried, ‘Who else do you have in mind for this grand scheme of yours?’

      The countess’s brow furrowed. ‘Well, there are one or two other heiresses worthy of consideration, plus the usual smattering of rich widows, for instance—if you have no objection to an older woman?’

      ‘From where I’m standing,’ remarked Wyvern dryly, ‘even the two-headed, bearded lady from Astley’s Circus is beginning to sound quite plausible—provided that she has the necessary wherewithal, of course!’

      ‘Now you are just being ridiculous,’ sighed the dowager, then, glaring at her grandson, added, ‘Do you mean to try to save the Grange or don’t you?’

      Wyvern ran his fingers distractedly through his crisp dark hair. ‘I mean to do my best,’ he replied stiffly. ‘There are other avenues I might explore.’

      ‘Such as?’

      He shrugged. ‘I will need to return to Ashcroft and take a look for myself—assess the damage and so on. It is possible that things may not be quite as bad as Humphreys has led me to believe—he has always been something of a doom merchant, as I recall!’

      ‘Anything is possible, I suppose,’ retorted his grandmother. ‘Nevertheless, you must certainly go there as soon as possible—there are still several members of staff in residence. I dare say I might manage to rake up sufficient funds to pay them something of what they are owed.’

      Wyvern froze. It had completely slipped his mind that the countess had already met the cost of his brother’s funeral and other sundry expenses while awaiting his return from Paris, where he had been serving with the Army of Occupation. For several minutes he studied her closed expression then, making up his mind, he said diffidently, ‘I suppose it would do no harm to pay a courtesy visit to the Draycotts—our families were on quite good terms at one time, as I recall.’

      Her eyes softening, his grandmother looked across at him and gave a brisk nod. ‘That is exceedingly sensible of you, Benedict. Saving the estate is far more important than pandering to our own personal likes and dislikes—Ashcroft Grange has been in the family for over three hundred years. It was a hard struggle for me to keep it going sixty years ago and now it is your turn—you simply must not let it go without putting up some sort of a fight!’

      Jumping to his feet and crossing the short space that separated them, Wyvern sat down beside his grandmother and grasped her hands.

      ‘I promise you that I will do whatever it takes, dearest one,’ he said, strengthening his resolve. ‘Miss Felicity Draycott will find me to be everything a girl has ever dreamed of, you have my word!’

      Chapter Four

      Owing to several pressing business engagements, Matt Beresford had been temporarily obliged to shelve the matter of discovering the identity of his siblings’ benefactor. He did, however, feel constrained to remonstrate with Lieutenant Stevenage when, three days later, that young man eventually returned to town.

      On arriving at the Beresford residence, the lieutenant was shown straight away into the ground-floor study, where a stern-faced Beresford awaited him and, without further ceremony, confronted him with the series of disastrous events that had occurred following Jessica’s defiant exit from the inn at Turnham Green.

      ‘And now, sir, what have you to say for yourself?’ demanded Matt, fixing the lieutenant with his most severe frown.

      Stevenage’s cheeks had grown pale with shock. ‘I really must crave your pardon, Mr Beresford,’ he stammered. ‘I begged her not to attempt the journey, but she…’

      ‘Has a mind of her own?’ supplied Matt who, being well acquainted with Jessica’s obstinate streak, was not entirely unsympathetic to the young man’s plight.

      A vivid flush then covered Stevenage’s face but, squaring his shoulders and looking his host straight in the eye, he said, ‘Nevertheless, sir, I hold myself entirely responsible for what happened and give you my word that, should such a situation ever occur again, Miss Beresford’s welfare will be my primary concern.’

      ‘Along with your sister’s, I trust?’ interposed Beresford dryly.

      ‘Er—yes, but of course,’ came Stevenage’s hurried response. ‘Both ladies would be of equal concern, naturally!’

      Matt’s lips began to twitch. ‘And how is Miss Stevenage?’ he asked, anxious to save the young man any further embarrassment. ‘I trust that she suffered no great hurt?’

      ‘Nothing of consequence, sir. I sent a message to my father and he came down with a carriage and took Olivia home—she is fine now, sir.’ The lieutenant paused, eyed Matt nervously then, taking a deep breath, went on, ‘I’m truly sorry about the landau, sir. I thought it best to remain at the inn until your coachman recovered, but then he refused to leave until the pole was fixed, which