An Unconventional Miss by DOROTHY ELBURY Page B

beyond the realms of fantasy to conclude that these highly exaggerated mannerisms were merely part of a well-practised routine on her part.
    Having seen the astonishingly reckless manner in which she had flourished a bulky wad of banknotes under the stableman’s nose—to the considerable interest of a good many onlookers—followed by her total disregard for both her brother’s and Stevenage’s counsel, it had come as no surprise to Wyvern to discover that Miss Beresford in person was even more pig-headed than he had been given to understand. Clearly used to having things go her way, and heaven help those who had the temerity to cross her!
    Well, the little madam could bat her eyelashes at him until the cows came home, thought Wyvern, with a disdainful shrug, but if she really imagined that she could persuade him to join the ranks of all those young jackanapes who were dancing to her tune, she was about to discover how very wrong she was! The girl clearly need to be taught some sort of a lesson and, as his mind dwelt upon the various ways in which the condescending Miss Beresford might be brought to heel, it very soon occurred to Wyvern that, had he but had the time at his disposal, he would not have been at all disinclined to take on the job himself! Such a pleasant distraction could well prove to be most gratifying!
    As the gas lamps in the auditorium were slowly lowered for the start of the second act, an introspective gleam came into his eyes and his lips curved in amusement as he contemplated the possibilities. That softly rounded figure—he could well imagine how that would feel in his arms! And those eyes! He would swear that a man might drown in those glorious pools and be only too glad to do so! A sudden clash of cymbals from the orchestra pit jolted him out of this agreeable reverie and thrust him rudely back to his senses. A deep frown puckered his brow. What, in the name of thunder, had got into him? As if he didn’t have more than enough complications in his life already!
    Having spent the past few days investigating the true state of affairs at Ashcroft Grange, he had discovered that, to his considerable relief, the situation was not nearly as hopeless as the solicitor, Humphreys, had led him to believe. Many valuable artefacts had disappeared, it was true, but Wyvern was soon to learn that the handful of dedicated servants still in residence had been more than anxious to restore the property to its former glory and had worked very hard to repair the damage that had been caused by his brother’s in-continent associates.
    Brigham, the elderly land agent, had informed his new master that there was still sufficient revenue coming in from the four tenant farmers to keep the estate ticking over for several months, given that nothing out of the way occurred in the meantime. This being so, Wyvern was reasonably confident that, for the moment, at any rate, the interest from what was left of his own small capital would just about cover the servants’ wages and his own day-to-day expenses.
    And, even though he had never felt the slightest inclination to involve himself in the running of the rambling estate, the intricate workings of which were still something of a mystery to him, these findings were of some comfort to him. Even more so to his grandmother, perhaps, who had spent the entire period of Wyvern’s absence in a continual fret as to what news he would impart to her on his return from Brentford.
    There still remained, however, the formidable dilemma of how to lay his hands on the prodigious amount of money needed to satisfy the late earl’s creditors who, as soon as the news of Wyvern’s arrival back in the capital had reached their ears, were already starting to clamour for satisfaction.
    It was entirely as a result of his deep concern regarding this seemingly insurmountable problem that he had finally agreed to accompany his grandmother on a pre-arranged call to