The Scoundrel's Secret Siren (13 page)

Winbourne felt a stab of anger at himself – he hated having to show such weakness, especially before a member of the fairer sex. He was snapped out of his self-reproach when he heard Lorelei’s voice briskly order a room and bandages from the landlady who had rushed out to greet them. Miss Lindon was no longer a siren. She was every inch a countess, and he found this even more attractive. The earl almost snorted – what a time to feel a stab of desire.

Lorelei waited impatiently for bandages to be brought, along with water, laudanum slution and the best ointment the proprietress, Mrs Avery, had in her possession. Recognising that valuable minutes would be lost in a fuss, Lorelei had taken swift control of the situation with such authority that the landlady did not dare question their sudden appearance or the earl’s wound.

When these necessities were brought, Lorelei ordered the anxious-looking young servant girl sent by Mrs Avery to hold the bowl of water. She picked up a piece of cloth, soaking it in the hot water and in her urgency ignoring the fact that it burned her delicate hands.

Lorelei wasted no time, swiftly cutting the earl’s blood-stained shirt and carefully peeling it away. Winbourne grimaced and gritted his teeth as she cleaned his wound, first with water and then with a bit of the whiskey Mrs Avery had sent up. He gave no further sign that he was in pain, though his agony had to have been acute.

Heart pounding and mind racing, Lorelei realised that the wound was deep enough to require stitching. Sending for the necessary tools, she made the earl gulp down more whiskey in a desperate effort to numb some of the pain.

“No doubt this is an excellent occasion to practise your needlework, Miss Lindon,” the man said dryly, in a voice that was rough with pain.

She supposed that Winbourne meant to rattle her, or perhaps to hurt her feelings. Lorelei looked him unflinchingly in the eye as she replied primly, “I need very little practice. You’ll be pleased to know, no doubt, that I am known for my excellent needlework. Tell me, Lord Winbourne, why swords? Is not the fashion now to bring one’s pistols?” Her voice shook as she spoke. She realised that she was angry at herself for being such a fool as to let him catch sight of her, and angry at him for engaging in such an utterly idiotic pursuit in the first place. 

“Why, don’t you know, the sword is so much more satisfying than the barking irons, Miss Lindon. And also more accurate. You ought to be flattered – you were witness to the first man in ten years who had managed to draw my claret! But what is the matter?” he slurred, looking closer at her. “Why, by gad, you are angry!”

“I am not,” she lied
, because she did not wish to explain her feelings. The young woman collected her thoughts before continuing. “It is merely that I am focused on closing your wound before you bleed out. You may try to bluster me as much as please but, be that as it may, I won’t have you dying for the sheer stubbornness of your character,” Lorelei declared.

The chambermaid brought needle and thread and then Lorelei sent her away. They continued in silence. Though she was certain the earl was in a lot of pain despite her best efforts to work quickly and neatly, Winbourne still uttered not a sound and only the clenching of his fist was any indication of his discomfort. Lorelei felt her own heart clench at the thought that she was causing him further pain, however necessary, but she felt even more concerned by his complete refusal to show so much as a shred of weakness.

“There, that ought to suffice,” she said at last, inspecting her handiwork. The stitching looked grisly and she supposed she really ought to have been alarmed, but Lorelei thought the situation much too dire for such theatrics.

Winbourne moved his arm experimentally, before nodding. “I owe you thanks for the trouble you have taken on my behalf, Miss Lindon,” he said, voice very unsteady from blood loss and alcohol. “I suppose you must be aware that if you remain here with me, even in my current state of …incapacity, you will be ruined. I fear my reputation rather precedes itself. No doubt our good Mrs Avery is well aware of my name.”

Lorelei gave him a surprised look, though there was still anxiety to be read on her face. It had become obvious to Winbourne that her distress truly wasn’t caused by the sight of blood – she had proven herself of some considerable mettle in that department. But she could not possibly be concerned for his wellbeing, could she? His eyes narrowed.

“Or perhaps you do not mind it,” he said it his coldest voice.

“I beg your pardon?” said Lorelei, who had begun to clear away the bandages for something to do that did not involve sitting in such alarming proximity to him, now that he no longer needed her. She had done all she could to help him, but his blood loss had been considerable, and she was worried.

“Ah. Of course. You are an innocent. It would not have occurred to you that this would be the perfect means to entrapment, would it? A means of securing for yourself the title of countess, and a considerable fortune?”

Lorelei froze, then flushed with anger. She had never before been so insulted! How ungrateful and utterly boorish of him to imply such a deplorable thing! She knew that some of the young ladies of the
ton
had purposely snubbed her, believing her to be of inferior fortune because of her father’s frugal life-style, but she had always laughed such nonsense away. And yet, to hear such an insinuation from Winbourne was more than she could bear.

“I assure you, Lord Winbourne,” she said, voice tightly controlled, “that though I am younger than yourself and my fortune not as considerable as yours, I am very far from being either so desperate or so foolish as to ever throw in my lot with yours. There is no fortune large enough to tempt me to
that
end.  I would remind you that it is you yourself who have been taunting me these past few weeks. All I wanted was to have my mother’s pendant returned to me and then to be left alone. Now, I suggest you sleep.”

She stood up to sweep imperiously from the room, and had just about reached the door when his voice froze her in her tracks. “Then I suppose you would claim that it is my well-being that concerns you? That you are near in tears for worrying over me? Perhaps you believe it would be your fault if I were to perish this night.”

Lorelei turned around slowly. “Oh, no. The injury is your own fault entirely, for letting that man call you out. It would be no fault of mine, just your own folly. But I am sorry you are so jaded as to think that no one can have any concern for you beyond your fortune. You are incorrect, but I believe that I understand you much better now.”

“You understand nothing!” he barked, infuriated by her calm words. Where was the brash, fanciful girl who had run around the countryside looking for spectres?

Lorelei took in his alarmed expression and came back to the bed. In any other circumstance, she might have found his expression comical.

“I will send to the house,” she told him gently. “They ought to be informed.”

The earl sneered weakly. “And how will you explain your presence, pray?”

“I’m very sure that I’ll think of something,” Lorelei said with her usual determination. It cost her some effort in the face of his obvious pain and stubbornness. She was certain she’d come up with a likely tale – perhaps she had found herself unable to sleep and had gone for an early morning walk when she had found him.

“No. Absolutely not. I will not have some coxcomb of a doctor clucking over me. This is not my first wound, Miss Lindon, and I assure you I have survived far worse than this.” The finality in his voice stopped any further protests Lorelei might have been about to make.

His eyes were cold and unrea
dable, and she knew he would not be moved on this point. She did not agree, but she did understand pride. He was obviously the sort of man who abhorred weakness in himself. Lorelei wondered if that ever left him feeling lonely.

How he must hate having me see him like this,
she thought, and felt an inexplicable sadness seize hold of her heart. She didn’t like him very much, but for some reason she felt that his trust might not be such a bad thing to have. To be the only person in the world he trusted! She quickly cut off that line of thought. This was no time for fancies.

“Very well,” she nodded, making her reluctance perfectly plain in her tone of voice. “I shall do as you ask and tend to you myself as best I can. But you had better stop being absurd then – this is
not
your deathbed and I won’t have you making yourself melancholy.”

“Your servant, madam,” he said dryly, but it was obvious his heart was not in it as he moved his shoulder experimentally and winced.

“And I will write to Eloise,” she said with her own steely determination. “She must be informed – you surely do not suppose that none will notice our disappearance! Heaven knows what they would think. I will convey your wish that none should come here and I am certain she will keep the matter quiet.”

Winbourne could see how her father must command the respect of his dragoons. Lorelei Lindon might have made a fine one too, had she been born a lad. It was a side to the girl he had never seen.
She made him take a shallow spoonful of laudanum and watched sympathetically as he winced at the flavour.

Lorelei did her best not to be alarmed at the deathly pallor of his skin, and the unsteadiness of his voice. He was always so contained and controlled that seeing him like this utterly disturbed her.

Laudanum and the loss of blood seemed to catch up with Winbourne, for he sagged against his pillows and in a few moments he was asleep. She remained in the room until Mrs Avery came up and insisted she remove downstairs for some tea while Molly, the chambermaid, sat with Winbourne. She was even so good as to provide Lorelei with a clean gown of her daughter’s while Lorelei’s own dress was taken away for cleaning. Lorelei did not wish to leave him, but there was no sense in starving herself so that she ended up too weak to be of any use.

Downstairs, the landlady fixed Lorelei with an unsettling scrutiny. “No
w that you are all cleaned up, miss, and the gentleman asleep, perhaps you had better tell me whether this is an elopement? You should know that we don’t hold with such around here.”

So startled was she by the question, that i
t took Lorelei a moment to reply. “An elopement! Oh, certainly not! His lordship was wounded in a duel this morning, and I came across him on an early walk. I am a very light sleeper. Only, there was no time to take him back to the house – I barely managed to bring him here. We are staying up at Gilmont House, you see – Lord Winbourne is her ladyship’s brother.”

Mr
s Avery frowned, considering Lorelei’s words. She seemed, however, to believe the appalled surprise on Lorelei’s face, because she nodded. “Lady Gilmont is a very kindly soul – she sent a surgeon for my son when he was poorly! You need not worry – I am a discreet woman and Molly won’t breathe a word of this.”

“Thank you. I wonder, would it be at all possible to send a boy to Gilmont
tomorrow, with a note? I think I had better tell Lady Gilmont what has happened.” Lorelei could barely think straight for the sudden exhaustion which seemed to overtake her.

The young lady was a
ssured that this would be done. Sensing her weariness, Mrs Avery wasted no time in providing Lorelei with her own room. Lorelei gratefully collapsed on the soft bed, still in the gown Mrs Avery had lent her.

*

When Winbourne awoke at last, it was just before dawn on the day following the duel and Lorelei was back in his room, watching him anxiously and occasionally pacing to look at the gloom beyond the window. She heard the bed creak with his movement and hurried to his side, while he regarded her blearily.

Carefully, she took a seat on the only chair in the room, purposely failing to move it either nearer or further from
the bed. To be in such an intimate setting with a gentleman was bad enough, she felt, now that the urgency had faded and she was able to assess the whole. The earl seemed to catch the gesture even through his pain, and smirked at her.

“So tell me, Miss Lindon, how came you to be at that very glade so early in the morning? Before you abducted me, I mean.”

She thought from his expression that he knew perfectly well the answer to that question. It would not do to lie. She steeled herself to the worst and told the truth. “I followed you. Yesterday, I was in the gardens and I accidentally overheard that you meant to meet that man at first light. I did not think it wise that you should go alone. And this is hardly abduction, Lord Winbourne.”

Surprise flickered across his face, and his eyes became flinty. “And so you risked your health and your good name out of concern for me? I am truly touched, my dear,” the earl drawled.

Lorelei knew he was quite correct – it had been a foolish thing to do. She wondered, however, why he was surprised by her concern.

The look in his eyes provoked her into replying. “The duel is a vile idiotic thing for gentlemen to indulge in. Perhaps as a woman I do not understand much about a gentleman’s honour, but I do believe that dying by sword or bullet at first light because of some imagined slight is the pinnacle of idiocy. Father does not abide duelling among the men under his command. ”

“How very sensible of him. But you evade my question. Was it concern for my safety that drove you out at such an hour and unchaperoned? Or was it the coronet that drew you? We have now established that it was not my fortune.”