The Scoundrel's Secret Siren (19 page)

What a fool he had been then! His undeniable
fervent devotion now seemed nothing if not ridiculous.

Mlle de Beaumont had been witty too, and fashionable: the toast of
London Society – a young widow of fortune, breeding and name, who had every advantage of being French, which had only added to her charm. She had bewitched everyone around her, revelling in the many admirers who had lain their names and fortunes at her feet.

Contrarily, Lorelei did not seem to care much for ardent flirtation with profligate members of the
ton
. Her wit tended to be a lot more acerbic, at least wherever he happened to be her target. She had none of Valerie’s worldliness and poise, and he could not picture Valerie looking for ghosts on night-time country roads, nor speaking to him with such earnest directness.

There was nothing of the coquette about the blonde girl. Instead of the disdain which such frankness ought to have inspired in him, he felt completely the opposite. To snub the indomitable Miss Lindon was unthinkable, and yet he knew he ought
 to do just that, if he had any hope of retaining his sanity or keeping his heart!

He ought perhaps to encourage her in an attachment to another gentleman. Not Taylor, he thought – for the man had little interest for anything except hazard, horses and hounds. But someone like the dull Mr Hunter, perhaps.

He knew just what he ought to do, but the thought of Miss Lindon in the arms or, worse, bed, of any other man was intolerable! She would marry eventually, of course, as she must. He knew that. She was beautiful and charming. Perhaps not this Season, if he was fortunate, but certainly she would not remain on the shelf.

That was intolerable too – though he knew he had no right to think such thoughts.

He had nothing to offer her. He could not offer her his name. If he were ever to marry, he would not do so for affection. Not after the lesson Valerie had been kind enough to teach him. But in the company of Miss Lindon, he had completely forgotten all about the possible necessity of securing himself a biddable, unremarkable wife.

Suddenly, he felt sure the Winbourne name would die with him.

It was with great relief that Lorelei returned to Russell Square. The constant presence of Lord Winbourne had put her utterly on edge and she doubted if her nerves could stand another day sharing a roof with the infuriating man. She wanted nothing more than to regain some distance and clear her head: there was much for her to think on.

Winbourne had departed Gilmont House early that morning, leaving a letter for his sister. He had not explained what was so very urgent. A vindictive part of Lorelei thought that it was likely because he was engaged to meet a lady - a mistress, no doubt. A beauty of great wit and character.

And still he would not let her be. Even in his absence, he haunted her imagination.  As though sensing her desire to be rid of him, Lord Winbourne had gone so far as to invite them all on an outing to Astley’s Amphitheatre. If Constance got wind of such an invitation, Lorelei knew there would be no avoiding it. It had been a deplorable trick on his part.

While Lorelei had smelled a rat
the moment Eloise informed them of the invitation, Julia had been very excited at another chance to see her beau, for Lord Winbourne could not in any way fail to invite Mr Hunter without it being interpreted as a grave snub.

Eloise had insisted that, since Julia was to stay at her London house overnight, Lorelei and Constance must of course do the same, and Lorelei had known from that moment that her fate was quite sealed: to Astley’s she would go.

*

Lorelei wondered about Lord Winbourne’s supposed paramour all the way home, despite her best efforts to convince herself that she simply did not care. In her imagination, the woman only grew in beauty, wit and accomplishment every second, to the point where surely no other lady could ever hope to compete.

Not that it mattered to her whom Winbourne chose as his bit of muslin. They
could - indeed,
should
- have nothing to do with one another again. Lorelei knew that better than anyone else. It was clear the earl had not the least intention of taking a wife, and if he did, she would certainly not be the sort of wife he’d want.

Why would he pick a woman who snuck out at night to look for ghosts and who followed gentlemen to duels? She was not at all the sort to make a suitably elegant and distinguished countess. And he, who always kept an icy distance between himself and the very same world that emulated him as a paragon of fashion, would certainly not make any sort of decent husband for her. She could not bear a life with a husband who thought only of himself!

This realisation ought to have been enough to make her forget the whole sorry business and the infuriating earl. And it was telling of the trouble in which she found herself that Lorelei was quite unable to stop thinking of him regardless.

Constance and Lady Hurst were both very pleased to see her, and while Con instantly set about attempting to ferret out every last detail of Lorelei’s stay at Gilmont, Lady Hurst’s enquiries were more subtle. She had been aware that a number of gentlemen of consequence and name had been invited to Lady Gilmont’s ball, and wondered if Lorelei had found any of them markedly engaging.

The young lady was momentarily uncertain how she ought to reply to such a question, for she did not wish to lie to Lady Hurst. Lorelei was careful to pronounce the company exceedingly pleasant, but informed her benefactress that, unlike Julia, she had had no gentleman pay her any particular attention. After all, she reminded herself, Lord Winbourne was very far from a gentleman.

It was perhaps the slight tinge of pink along her pale cheeks that gave her away, but Lady Hurst did not for a moment appear convinced. She
gave the girls a very stern look over her fan, though the amusement in her voice rather took away from the effect.

“You know, my dears,” she said, “fancy notions about matrimony are all very well and good, but poverty does not make for very lasting affection. Young ladies have a remarkable way of being notoriously picksome while secretly falling in love with poor officers. To this I can attest from my own girlhood.”

After the events of the previous night, the previous
week
, Lorelei half-expected Winbourne to make a morning call on the day she returned to Russell Square. After all, any proper gentleman might be expected to do so after only dancing twice with a lady at a ball! But there was no sign of the beastly man.

Lorelei firmly told herself that it was a relief, really – fancy explaining such a visit to Lady Hurst! Then she threw herself into telling her sister all about the dances, the games and the gowns she had seen at Gilmont. Constance loved hearing of such things, and the gowns especially had had her full attention.

Lorelei also took out the delicate silk cloth she had been embroidering before she set out for Gilmont, looking dispassionately at the intricate border of scrolls and roses, rendered in pale silk thread. She sighed and reached for her favourite penwork sewing box, which her father had made for her birthday five years ago.

The sight of it always cheered her: it was decorated with pictures of pretty birds and flowers rendered in colourful ink and enamel. The delicate imagery had always struck her as somehow magical, and she felt instantly calmer.

When she was done telling Constance and Lady Hurst of Gilmont, it was her turn to be told all about the week they had passed in London – the bonnets ordered, the visits made and received, and all the latest
on dits
about town. She listened quietly as her sister told her all about her new bonnet, making suitably approving remarks concerning colour and shape, while she continued with her embroidery.

The following morning, Lorelei and Constance sallied forth on a walk. Con had declared that she had missed her sister terribly, which Lorelei thought that was almost certainly a way to finagle hot chocolate out of her, but gracefully bowed to her sister’s wishes.

Constance had been particularly delighted to be allowed to skip her lessons with Miss Finch that day. Lorelei had teasingly told her sister that she had no doubt Miss Finch was just as glad of a day off without having to drill arithmetic or French into her erstwhile pupil.

They passed an excellent morning as they looked at ribbons and giggled over the latest Gothic novels in a bookseller’s windows. Constance was even so bold as to quietly point out a few dashing gentlemen who happened their way, comparing them to pirates, charming brigands, or dashing heroes. She was being quite awful, Lorelei told her in between giggles, impressed with her sister’s daring.

Con’s pretty curls and wide brown eyes, however, provided her with an ideal look of innocence beyond suspicion. Lorelei suspected that Constance would one day grow into a hellion to be reckoned with, and mercy upon the gentleman who happened to catch her eye.

Con even talked Lorelei into purchasing her a new ribbon ornament for her hair, which Lorelei did with all the fondness of an older sibling whose sister had spent all her allowance on paints, and who still had gloves to buy.

Then, Constance talked her sister into going to the chocolate house where they enjoyed delicious cups of bitter French chocolate and delicate, light almond cakes. Constance was very fond of sweets, so much so that their father often teased her about her sweet-tooth.

The sisters were engaged in finding new satin gloves for
Constance to wear to Astley’s when it unexpectedly began to rain and they were obliged to hail a hackney to take them home. It would not do to get soaked and catch cold before the auspicious evening. Even making an unseemly dash for the hackney was great fun. It was as though she were temporarily in a different world, and Winbourne none of her concern. Constance, who had always loved the rain, was particularly pleased with the excuse to take a hackney.

She was all aflutter
at the thought of an outing to Astley’s. She’d felt somewhat left out, with Lorelei invited to Society parties and to Gilmont, while she herself had been obliged to remain at home. Con told her sister that, while she did not care for horse-riding much herself, she loved to watch equestrian shows.

“Oh, if only Papa were here to go to Astley’s with us! He always says such droll things about the entertainments, after! I almost enjoy that more than the programme itself. ”

The general, who had as little tolerance for absurd thespian productions as he did the opera, always had something vitriolic to say after the shows, particularly about Astley’s, which he considered to be the pinnacle of absurdity. “I believe, my dear, the trouble lies in the fact that I am not a frivolous young lady,” he had once told Lady Hurst, “and so I cannot find any diversion in handsome acrobats or the inexplicable involvement of horses in an already ridiculous plot.”

Lorelei was given to understand that, since the passing of their mother, the general had never gladly set foot in an opera house, no matter where the Prince and the rest of his set wished to go. Lord Ledley preferred instead the more absorbing amusements of his club, the races and the kind of theatre that promised serious entertainment without either singing or horses.

Recently, Lorelei had been pleased to note, he had taken to inviting Lady Hurst to accompany him to the theatre.

As they enjoyed the ride home, Constance unknowingly made Lorelei feel quite uneasy and flushed by asking if their host that night was not the handsome gentleman from the park who had saved Lorelei from being dragged into the lake by Sirius. She confided that she had never seen a
 caped coat sit so well on any other man, nor so heroically.

Lorelei, who was aware that Winbourne generally lacked any heroic side whatsoever, opted to keep quiet on that head, though she felt the acute childish urge to disabuse her sister of her misconception.

The rain only grew stronger when they alighted at Russell Square. The faint drizzle beat on the side of the carriage and Lorelei just knew that it would not stop by the time they had to disembark. Lorelei’s straw bonnet would be utterly ruined, but she was having far too good a time with her sister to worry about bonnets.

*

They arrived home worn out, but happy, and well ready for the light meal Lady Hurst had requested be prepared for them. In the course of the day, Lorelei had managed to almost completely put the exasperating earl from her mind, and so she was astonished to find a note for her from Julia, asking her to come to Lady Bassincourt’s townhouse on Upper Brook Street as soon as she was able.

Lorelei wondered if this strange frenzy had something to do with the earl, who had been so flint-hearted to Julia the previous night. She was sure it had to. After taking her meal and a fortifying cup of tea, she had Nell bring her a dry hat and gloves. Lady Hurst graciously excused her unseemly rush as Lorelei hurried to the aid of her distressed friend.

Lorelei ordered the carriage sent round and, before she knew it, she was on her way to Upper Brook Street. She was received by a retainer and hastened into a beautifully appointed parlour. She was more than a little concerned to find Julia already waiting for her, wringing her hands and wiping her eyes with a pretty handkerchief. Next to her a tea tray sat untouched. Her face was pale, and her eyes wide and sad.

“Oh! Lorelei!” Julia exclaimed upon seeing her friend, and her face crumpled.

Lorelei hurried to the other girl’s side, producing her own dry handkerchief.

“My dear Julia, whatever has happened? Do stop crying! I am very sure that if you only tell me what is wrong, we shall think of something.”

Faced with such unimpeachable practicality, Julia finally stopped weeping and sat restlessly on the settee.

“
I must confess that I have been entirely out of spirits since last night, for all chance of happiness is surely lost now that my uncle has refused to help in the matter of my beloved Mr Hunter! It seems I am doomed to a tragic and spinsterly fate, because if I cannot have him, I shan’t marry at all. How could my uncle Winbourne have been so cruel as to imply that Mr Hunter’s sentiment is nothing more than calf love! Why, this very morning, when I met my uncle in the parlour, talking to my brother, George, he did an even worse thing – he behaved as though nothing had happened. As though he did not take the attachment of my heart, or my consequent suffering, to be in the least part a serious thing!” Julia paused a moment, trying not to cry again, before continuing despondently, “I ran outside all flustered and was almost run-over by a dilly. My maid near fainted. It was most mortifying, and I am certain I must look a right dowdy and a fright.”

With those words,
Julia seemed about to work herself into another fit of the nerves and it took some crooning to get her to calm down. “I am so sorry,” she said at last, her voice raspy. “It is very ill-bred of me to blubber all over you by way of greeting! Please forgive me. No doubt it is nothing – I am only being a silly girl.”

“Stuff!” Lorelei dismissed. “Are we not friends? Now, do leave it to me, my dear – I’ll work Winbourne around to helping you.”

*

After Lorelei had taken her leave of Julia, she felt herself more determined than ever to prevail upon Lord Winbourne in the matter of her friend’s betrothal.

She felt strangely and unexpectedly energised. Despite sternly reprimanding herself, Lorelei knew a breathless excitement at the thought of the upcoming visit to Astley’s Amphitheatre. She told herself that a lot of this had to do with the fact that she had not been there for many years, having been taken ill and obliged to remain at home the last time Lord Ledley had gone with Constance. It had nothing to do with the company.