An Unconventional Miss by DOROTHY ELBURY Page A

ardour, let alone that of a truly red-blooded male such as he! He was beginning to suspect that the begetting of the necessary heir to his estate might prove to be a great deal more of an ordeal than a pleasure!
    Wyvern had always been a man of strong passions, full of vigour and determination: a bruising rider, an excellent marksman, his swordsmanship second to none although, as some of his army comrades had often been wont to remark, he was sometimes inclined to be a little on the hot-headed side!
    Nevertheless, his innate good sense was more than enough to counsel him that, since, apart from his earldom, he had nothing but a crumbling old mansion and a mountain of debt to offer any prospective bride, marriage to Felicity Draycott looked to be his only escape from the dreadful coil that his brother had bequeathed to him! And, no matter how distasteful the idea might be, the sooner he could bring himself to start paying serious court to her, the sooner his problems would be solved—those of a financial nature, at any rate, he amended grimly.

Chapter Seven
    â€˜A nd no further attempts at any break-ins, while you were there?’ asked Sir Simon, as soon as Wyvern had rounded off his brief account of his visit to the family estate.
    â€˜Not at the Grange,’ replied the earl with a brisk shake of his head. ‘But, oddly enough, the minute I got back to Ashcroft House, I was informed by the butler that, only last night, one of the footmen had chased off a pair of would-be intruders! Trouble is,’ he added, tossing back his drink, ‘I haven’t the faintest idea what these villains—whoever they may be—are after!’
    He and Holt, along with Fitzallan, had ensconced themselves in a secluded corner of the smoking room at White’s, currently their preferred choice of venue.
    â€˜Must have known that you were away,’ observed Fitzallan, as he signalled to the barman to bring another bottle. ‘They certainly seem pretty determined to get their hands on this mysterious document!’
    â€˜Document?’ frowned Wyvern. ‘What makes you think it’s a document they’re after?’
    â€˜Should have thought that it was blindingly obvious, old chap!’ responded Fitzallan, with a pained expression on his chubby face. ‘Ain’t as if you’d be likely to find much else stuffed inside the frame of a painting, now is it?’
    â€˜I would be inclined to agree with you,’ said Sir Simon, nodding thoughtfully. ‘Had it not been for the fact that Ben has been through every bit of Theo’s paperwork.’
    â€˜With the proverbial fine-tooth comb!’ put in Wyvern, gloomily.
    â€˜And he didn’t leave you with so much as a hint of what these fellows might be searching for?’
    Shaking his head, Wyvern reached into his inside pocket and drew out his notecase. ‘Apart from a pile of unpaid bills and dunning letters, this is all he left me,’ he said, as he extracted the piece of paper containing his brother’s final message. ‘See for yourselves. It’s just a load of disconnected foolishness. It’s clear that he was at his wit’s end!’
    Unfolding the missive, he laid in on the table, evening out the creases with the tips of his fingers.
    His two friends stared down at the letter in silence, then Sir Simon, picking it up carefully between his thumb and forefinger, held it up to the light, turned it over to check the back then finally, to both his companions’ utter bewilderment, he lifted the paper up to his nose and carefully sniffed at it.
    â€˜Just checking,’ he retorted, having registered their incredulous expressions. ‘Lemon juice, you know—invisible ink—just needed to be sure!’
    Replacing the letter on to the table, he leaned back in his chair and shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I’m as stumped as you are, Ben, old chap!’ he admitted.
    â€˜Well, well,