The Scoundrel's Secret Siren

by Daphne du Bois

  Lady Hurst had not needed much persuasion to permit Lorelei to go to Gilmont for an entire week, given the quality of the guests she expected would be present at the gathering.

  Constance sighed. “Oh, I do wish I could go also! I am sure I shall miss you terribly while you are gone.”

  “As do I! It will not be half as enjoyable without you, sister. I am so eager to introduce you to Lady Gilmont and Lady Julia – you are certain to like them very much,” Lorelei said earnestly. She was convinced that Julia and Constance, with their quiet manners and numerous achievements, would be fast friends.

  “You ought to let Sirius off that lead,” Constance said in exasperation, as the dog picked up pace again, earning them disapproving glances from a pair of matrons going past in a stately landau.

  “Oh, no, Miss Constance! He is sure to bolt!” their chaperone exclaimed.

  “Nell is right. This way, at least, I have a hold on him.” No sooner had Lorelei said this, than a loud squawking was head from the pond ahead.

  Sirius froze in a moment of deceptive stillness, before bolting so suddenly that Lorelei was sure her arm had been wrenched out of its socket. Helpless, she was dragged along after the dog, darting part trees and doing her best not to trip over her gown or lose her slippers.

  Desperate and breathless, she called for Sirius to halt while struggling to free her wrist. She was certain that her bonnet would fly off at any moment. In her desperate situation, she could not help thinking what a spectacle she was bound to be making of herself and what Lady Hurst would say when she heard about it. Lady Hurst had been so very good to them; Lorelei was certain she couldn’t bear to bring such embarrassment to the kind woman.

  Clear of the trees, they flew towards the lake. People turned to stare in surprise, and a few ladies gasped at the sight. Just as she came within a few feet of the lake, Lorelei managed to disentangle her hand, crumpling her glove in the process. She exhaled in relief and realised that she was very badly out of breath. She could hear her heart pounding furiously, as she watched Sirius plunge into the water, splashing furiously and making for the ducks.

  Squawking in outrage, the ducks took off in a panic from the surface of the lake, and for a moment all that could be heard was their furious cries and the swift beating of wings. She could just hear Constance and Nell coming nearer, still calling her name, and the scandalised murmurs of the other people around the lake.

  A pounding of hoof beats registered suddenly over the other noise. She felt herself flush with burning embarrassment.

  “If a young lady cannot control her dog, she ought not to be walking it,” said a wry voice from the saddle of a fine grey stallion.

  Lorelei looked up with every intention of defending the faithful family pet, and froze. The speaker was none other than Lord Winbourne himself and she was torn between astonishment and mortification. Oh, that he should see her like this! Though she could not explain to herself why his opinion, in particular, was of any importance at all. Steeling herself, she looked up into his amused dark eyes, and raised her chin proudly.

  The earl wore a beautifully-cut coat of dark green, with matching buttons, which accentuated his aristocratic pallor and the gold of his hair. His tan buckskin breeches showed off his powerful thighs and, at this thought, she forced herself to look away, back at her insubordinate dog, who was happily swimming circles now that his prey had taken off.

  “Well, Miss Lindon?” Winbourne slid off the horse in one easy movement and was beside her.

  “Well what, my lord Winbourne?” she replied, forced to look at him again.

  But he did not answer. Lorelei saw a frown appear on his arresting face and followed his gaze down to the crumpled glove which had been caught in the lead. She realised with a start that her wrist was an angry purple-red and that it was throbbing with dull pain. She marvelled that she had not noticed sooner.

  “Dammit, girl, what have you done to yourself?” he hissed, taking her hand in his large one with gentleness that belied the harshness of his words. Her breath caught at the intimate gesture.

  A part of her wondered where her sister and chaperone were and she looked up vaguely to see them engaged in conversation with a friend of Lady Hurst’s, no doubt trying to explain away the embarrassing situation. The rest of her attention was caught in the spell of which Winbourne was probably completely unaware.

  She remembered his heady kiss and for a brief moment her eyes flashed up to his thin sensual lips. She caught herself and averted her eyes.

  “It is nothing! It does not even pain me,” she lied, her voice strangely breathy.

  He held her hand as if it were a fragile butterfly, and she watched as he gently examined her wrist, frowning. Then, just as quickly, he let go and she could breathe again.

  “You had better have your abigail bandage it. It is a happy accident that it is not a sprain, Miss Lindon.” His voice was cool and remote again, as if he were discussing the weather with a stranger.

  Lorelei was confused and a little hurt at his distant manner. She tried to reconcile this strange coldness with the way he had examined her hand, and the way he had flirted with her at his sister’s party. And the way his arm had rested around her waist when she had given him a lift to the village, a wicked voice in her head reminded.

  “It’s nothing,” she repeated. “Sirius just got over-excited. It is very crowded here today and there are many dogs – the ducks were a test of his control that he could not possibly have passed. He has always had a fondness for chasing them and it is my own fault if I did not remember that. He is usually a very good dog.”

  Winbourne gave her a surprised look, taken aback at her passionate defence of the animal. Most women of his acquaintance would have been uneasy around such a large creature.

  “A Newfoundland, is he? An unusual choice of pet for a young lady, Miss Lindon – I commend your courage. And what a curious name. The Dog Star?” Winbourne said with a chuckle.

  Lorelei was surprised. “Why, yes,” she said, “I did not know you knew astronomy.”

  “It will no doubt surprise you to know that before I embarked on the life of a roué, I somehow managed to receive an education. It will surprise you even more, I am sure, that even now I find time to read.” His voice dropped lower and she had the uneasy feeling that he was privately laughing at her expense.

  Lorelei could not understand why this man did not bother to stand on any ceremony with her – always speaking of things that were most inappropriate. She was sure that he did not go around speaking to other ladies that way, else he was sure to have many more appointments at dawn than he could ever accommodate. Lorelei wondered if there was something wrong with her own moral fibre that she did not find him as scandalous as she ought.

  She shot him an indignant look at being mocked, but his expression was impassively polite.

  “I am certain you have had time to develop quite a skill at delegating,” Lorelei replied coolly. “No doubt you have a secretary to handle matters you consider too mundane. And as to courage – it is no such thing. He is a marvellous creature: why ever should I be afraid of him? He is good even to Lady Hurst’s lapdogs. My father brought Sirius from Bath for me – he had gone there to visit an old friend and had just been about to set out for home when a pauper woman had come past trying to sell him the little creature. He was such a tiny lonely thing then that Papa took pity and bought him.”

  Winbourne noticed the great affection with which she spoke of her father – his own had spent much of his time at his club and had rarely put in an appearance at home. Such was the case with many fathers, he knew.

  “Ledley sounds like a man of commendable charity, Miss Lindon.”

  She smiled at him then, a rare and soft smile of such guileless innocence that he felt as if he could not have looked away even if he had wanted to.

  “Oh, yes. Papa is very kind, and you mustn’t think that I speak with an affectionate daughter’s prejudice.”

  “No doubt t
he general possesses a very sound character. But it seems your hound is coming back to heel.”

  “Oh!” said Lorelei, turning to look. There was obvious sarcasm in his voice. Sirius was indeed out of the water, and dripping wet. Having spotted his mistress, the large black dog gave a resounding, happy bark and launched himself straight at her.

  She was sure that in all his excitement he meant to leap on her, as he had been wont to do as a puppy. She knew that if he did, not only would her cambric walking gown be soaked and decorated with muddy footprints, but she would be quite unable to keep her feet.

  There was no sense trying to issue a command to stop – Sirius was unlikely to heed her in his excitement over the water and the ducks.

  Winbourne regarded the bounding dog with a raised eyebrow, and just as he neared Lorelei he said, in a calm voice of complete and utter authority, “Sirius, sit.”

  Lorelei waited for the impact, but it never came. She glanced at the dog with a great deal of astonishment. Sirius was sitting obediently on the springy grass just in front of them, his tongue lolling as he regarded them happily through his fringe of dark fur.

  Lorelei reached out a hand to pat the dog’s head, praising him, before looking up at the tall gentleman next to her with a smile of disbelief. Winbourne looked unruffled.

  “My lord, I am all astonishment. Thank you! However did you manage it? He never listens to me like that. Only Papa!”

  The corners of Winbourne’s lips turned upwards in a way that suggested amusement. “He is a fine beast and only wants a little discipline, Miss Lindon. It seems that I am obliged to come to your rescue once again, am I not?”

  Lorelei’s eyebrows shot up and she felt herself flush in indignation. She was about to protest that it was she who had rescued him on the road outside Ledley court, before she remembered herself.

  “I can’t imagine what you mean, Lord Winbourne. This is the first time you have had occasion to come to any sort of rescue,” she told him with great dignity, bravely daring to meet his baiting gaze. He had riled her on purpose again, she realised with great irritation. She really ought to keep a better look-out for it in the future.

  “Is that so?” The earl looked unmoved.

  Lorelei might have surrendered to temptation and given her rescuer a piece of her mind, had her sister and chaperone not come to join them. Shortly after introductions had been made, the earl said his farewells to the ladies, leapt back on his horse and was gone.

  “What a handsome gentleman,” Nell permitted herself to observe. “Very well turned-out. Though, of course, every inch a rakehell, if you’ll permit me to say so, Miss Lorelei.”

  Lorelei privately agreed with the maid, but she dismissed the warning in a light tone, picked up the wet lead from where it lay on the grass next to the dog, and told her companions that she thought it high time they went home, before Sirius took another swim.

  The dog behaved perfectly all the way back to Lady Hurst’s townhouse. Lorelei wondered if he had been just as impressed by Winbourne as she had.

  Constance wasted no time in expressing her own admiration for the commanding gentleman, and demanded to know if Lorelei had had the good fortune to dance with him at any of the fêtes she had attended.

  Lorelei was only half-listening to her sister, her mind on the earl. She thought back to the tender way he had examined her wrist, and how intently his eyes had looked into hers. She shivered a little, remembering his nearness.

  *

  If Lorelei had imagined she could go any amount of time without seeing Winbourne, she had been very much mistaken. Suddenly, he was everywhere. For some reason, though he hardly spoke two words to her, his very presence was enough to unsettle her.

  His continued attendance at picnics and dinner parties was enough to set the ton speculating, but no one thought to connect the fashionable roué with the pretty young daughter of Baron Ledley, a girl in possession of a middling fortune at best.

  Occasionally, he would pull out the pendant and twirl it casually in his fingers, the movement full of such easy carelessness as to set her teeth on edge. If anyone recognised it, she was sure to be the talk of the town. She could only imagine what conclusions would be drawn from his possession of so personal a trinket.

  At last, the night of the bal masque at Almack’s was upon them. Lorelei’s hair had been carefully dressed a la Venus, and Lady Hurst was very particular about the ball gown Lorelei was to wear. The fabric was a pale cream. The gown had a sheer over-skirt and was embroidered in an overlapping design of delicate gold thread. The colour brought out the gold in her hair and the sparkle in her eyes.

  “You are sure to catch a prince in such a gown! A dashing foreign prince – perhaps from Germany or Sweden,” Constance said, admiring the fabric while Nell pinned up Lorelei’s golden locks, which had been painstakingly curled for the occasion. Nell was a genius with hair, and the only person who could make certain Lorelei’s stubbornly straight locks retained a curl for the entirety of the night.

  “I think I’d settle just as well for a baron, if he were interesting,” remarked Lorelei wistfully.

  “To waste such a gown on a baron?” exclaimed the younger sister, brown eyes wide ina dramatic way that Lorelei was sure would lead all young men by the nose during her own first Season.

  “Papa is a baron.”

  “Papa is different – and Papa is a Major General, which must make him that much more important.”

  “He is certainly very missed by his diplomatic friends. I’ve had so many approach me to ask after him – and after ourselves, of course. Countess Lieven declared London parties to be nothing without his repartee.”

  “I’ve always thought the countess had a soft spot for Papa.” She paused for a moment, then ventured, “The Earl of Winbourne is very interesting.” Constance was still full of admiration for the man with his tall figure, handsome face and the way Sirius had obeyed him on the spot. She dropped many casual mentions of him, and Lorelei had to struggle to appear nonchalant despite the thrill that shot through her at every mention of his name.

  “Interesting, yes, and also very disreputable. Not to mentioned that he is known for the frosty distance from which he regards all of Society. I do not think there is a lady in existence whom he’d consider worthy of his full attention. Oh! I know what you are thinking, Con, but he is not at all like a hero. Not to mention that he has barely said a word to me, beyond polite acknowledgement. And that, I think, is mostly because I am a friend of his niece and sister.”

  The conversation moved on after that, and they talked of a painting Constance was working on, a lovely one of the roses in Lady Hurst’s garden at the back of the house, but Lorelei found that her thoughts strayed back to the handsome earl against her will.

  Lady Hurst had much admired Constance’s work when she had come to them in Ledley Park, and the girls thought it would be fitting to gift her with a painting as a way of thanking her for her hospitality.

  At last, Lorelei donned her mask, matchingly decorated with gold thread and cream feathers, and they departed for King Street. Lady Hurst held her own mask by a long ebony handle, having claimed that the mystery of such evenings had long since paled for her and that she might just observe the evening from the comfort of the dowagers’ chairs. Her sparkling eyes rather belied the severity of her plans.

  Upon entering Almack’s, Lorelei was in awe. The marvellous ballroom had to be over a hundred feet in length, filled with beautifully dressed company: the most select of the Upper Ten Thousand. There were breath-taking gilt columns and the biggest mirrors Lorelei had ever seen.

  She caught sight of herself in one and wondered if she looked as nervous to the other guests. Her wide eyes stared back at her from behind her mask. The room was elegantly lit by beautiful cut-glass lustres: Lorelei had heard that the modern gas lighting had caused quite a stir when it was first installed here, but she thought she preferred the pale flickering of candles to the bright illumination. She had seen Pall
Mall gorgeously illuminated by gaslight at night, but indoors it was somewhat unsettling.

  The young lady wasted no time in spotting Julia – even her mask could not hide her remarkable prettiness and recognizable chocolate curls, brought out by the dark blue of her own gown. As always, she seemed rather unaware of the stir she was causing among the gentlemen.

  “It is not at all fair that gentlemen should be permitted masks also,” Lorelei’s quiet friend observed by way of greeting. “The masks make them all so mysterious and dashing that it quite sets one’s head spinning.”

  Lorelei agreed wholeheartedly, and then laughed. “Ah, but here is one gentleman that ought to hold no mystery for you! Mr Farthingdon, talking to a lady in pink. I have never seen such high shirt points. I wonder if they will quite catch on at Watier’s?”

  The young ladies laughed at this. There was no mistaking Mr George Farthingdon, who had a remarkable fortune and, by all accounts, a remarkable lack of sense or taste. His ‘frightened owl’ hair, a veritable hit among the dandy set, gave the poor man a look of perpetual astonishment.

  “I can only wonder at the amount of starch his valet must go through in a week,” Julia whispered, giggling.

  The party proved to be full of enjoyment. Lorelei was not obliged to sit down for a single dance and her partners were most gracious and very droll. Next, however, she was obliged to dance with the odious Mr Farthingdon himself, who was an excellent dancer and very aware of his own skill. His every movement was elaborate, and the lady seemed to be there only to show off his genius on the dance floor. One could not but feel sorry for the unfortunate trying to keep up with Mr Farthingdon as a partner.

  Lorelei smiled her most charming smile and allowed the gentleman to lead her to join the set, while Julia gave her an encouraging smile. Julia was such a kind soul that she somehow managed to feel sorry even for Mr Farthingdon, who was almost as insufferable in conversation as he was during the cotillion.

  Joining the other couples in the circle formation, Lorelei returned her partner’s elaborate bow with as graceful a curtsey as she could manage, given the sense of dread she felt at the forthcoming two dances. She let her eyes scan the room in front of her idly, as she waited for the eight bars of introduction to lead into the dance. She had the most unsettling feeling of being watched.