An Unconventional Miss by DOROTHY ELBURY

hubbub from the patrons in the cheaper seats in the gallery above, pretty well drowned out any real attempt at conversation. Heaving a sigh, and hoping for better luck in the interval, he tried to concentrate his attention on the stage but, after some few minutes, gave this up, having been unable to fathom out what the devil was going on!
    As his frustration and boredom increased, his eyelids gradually drooped, then closed and, had not the act climaxed on a sudden, rousing crescendo, he might well have fallen asleep. Instantly on the alert, his eyes flew open and he was up on his feet almost before the curtains closed. Motioning to Nicholas, he was just about to suggest that both they and the two girls might use this opportunity to slip out into the corridor and stretch their legs for a few minutes, when he heard Jessica’s excited whisper.
    â€˜Nicky! Nicky!’ She was clutching at her brother’s arm. ‘Look over there! The third box from the stage! I’m certain that that’s him!’
    â€˜Him—who?’ Momentarily confused, Nicholas peered across the crowded auditorium. Then, as his eyes settled on the box his sister had indicated, his face cleared. ‘By Jove, I believe you’re right!’ he exclaimed, and almost fell off his chair in his eagerness to reach his half-brother, in order to point out Jessica’s discovery to him. ‘It’s that Wyvern fellow, Matt,’ he cried jubilantly. ‘Look! Over there! Ought we to go across and speak to him, do you suppose?’
    Jessica’s emerald eyes were alight with excitement and she could feel her heart beating at the most incredible rate. She had spent the past three days in hourly expectation of the stranger calling to enquire after their welfare. Why this had become such a matter of importance to her, she was at a loss to fathom, especially when she recalled the stranger’s high-handed attitude towards her. Yet the very sight of him, sitting a mere twenty-five yards across from her, was causing her to experience a quite extraordinary fluttering in the pit of her stomach.
    He was not alone. Seated to one side of him was a very elderly lady, who was one of the most formidable-looking females that Jessica had ever set eyes upon. She could not recollect having been introduced to such an aristocratic dowager at any of the many illustrious events she had attended and, since the lady was hardly the sort of person one could readily forget, she concluded that she, along with her escort, must be newcomers to town.
    Sliding her eyes across to the second female in the box, she gave a gasp of dismay. Unless she was much mistaken, the man’s other companion was Felicity Draycott, one of a coterie of coolly elegant, but rather haughty, damsels who had spent the greater part of Jessica’s time in town offering her the cold shoulder! Not that this had bothered Jessica unduly, since she had been enjoying herself far too much to pay a great deal of attention to their disapproving glances. But, why on earth such a devilishly handsome and elegantly turned-out man would want to waste himself on such a toplofty companion she could not begin to fathom—unless, of course, the Draycott female was some sort of relative of his! Having decided that this was the only reasonable conclusion that could be reached, her lips began to curve, her eyes grew bright and, as she watched Matt enter Wyvern’s box, a shudder of excited anticipation ran through her.
    Stevenage, who had been observing her growing excitement, demanded to know what all the fuss was about. ‘Why all this sudden interest in Ben Ashcroft?’ he asked, somewhat tetchily.
    â€˜Ashcroft?’ said Imogen, turning towards him, a bewildered look on her face. ‘I was given to understand that the gentleman’s name was Wyvern?’
    Stevenage shrugged. ‘Yes, well, since he’s just inherited his brother’s title, I suppose it would be more