The Scoundrel's Secret Siren

by Daphne du Bois

  Winbourne’s eyes lingered on Lorelei a moment longer before he turned his head and looked at Lord Peter, fixing him with the slightest curl of the lips, which might well have frozen the silly man in place with sheer disdain.

  “Just as it ever is, Lord Peter. Bustling.”

  “Oh, indeed!” laughed Lady Riverham. “The Season is just beginning to unfurl, after all. Like a fine and jewelled fan, I’ve always thought.” She reached for a strawberry dainty. “Of course, it will be a dreadful bore to have to return to the crush, but one must do one’s duty.”

  “I think it far better here in the country,” said Taylor. “Why, the sporting spirit must always chafe within the confines of the drawing room. You’ll know what I mean, Winbourne – you’re a Corinthian yourself.”

  “I do indeed. And it seems I have returned just in time to witness yet another sporting endeavour, orchestrated by yourself no doubt.”

  Taylor was delighted. “It was the least I could do! Miss Lindon missed our other game of badminton, being laid up with the headache as she has been these past three days. It is only right that she should have a chance to partake of the game now.”

  “Yes, I understand Miss Lindon enjoys games.”

  Lorelei heard the velvet note in his voice even though no one else did, and she did her best to seem nonchalant, though she shot him a dark look. The man made it near impossible to maintain her composure of mind. He had not the least sense of propriety! She opened her mouth to give him her sharpest set down, but Mr Taylor spoke first.

  “Quite so. Did you see how well she’s been playing?”

  “It was rather difficult to miss.”

  “What a splendid arm she has, and a good eye too. I think, Miss Lindon, if you keep playing like that, I may just decide to make you my viscountess,” Mr Taylor said with great regard.

  “Well, certainly that is an offer the lady will find impossible to refuse,” drawled Winbourne. Lorelei easily read the obvious mockery in his eyes.

  “Indeed,” she said, her own eyes meeting his defiantly, her tone purposely light. “Mr Taylor has such a fine arm himself that any lady would be pleased to accept.”

  “But you have completely neglected your opponents. Miss Dawlish, Mr Hinter, you were not half-bad yourselves,” Gilmont assured.

  “You did much better than Lord Peter and I yesterday – we were quite appalling,” said Julia with her characteristic good humour, which earned another look of appraisal from Mr Hunter.

  Once attention had been diverted to other matters, the gentleman asked if she wouldn’t care to take a turn about the grounds later that evening. Pleased and flushing slightly, Julia accepted.

  Later, she confided to Lorelei that she was delighted that Mr Hunter showed not the least desire to marry her. So delighted, in fact, that she would not mind it in the least if he were suddenly to offer for her. He was not a duke, blessedly, and there were other things she admired about him. Rather many things, which she related to Lorelei in a whisper once they retired from the games and went upstairs to select books for a bit of reading in the shade.

  Lorelei’s own intrigue had not gone completely unnoticed, however. It was not very difficult to spot it once one knew where to look, Lady Gilmont whispered to her husband, when they had a moment to themselves. The presence of Miss Lindon had melted some of the grimness from Winbourne’s eyes, and it had been a very long time since she had seen anything achieve that.

  Eloise was delighted: she was unaccustomed to seeing her brother’s dark eyes soften, and a genuine smile form on his thin mouth. She wondered if Lorelei had noticed this change. Lady Gilmont had every reason to believe that this was much more than another of Winbourne’s brief infatuations.

  Lorelei made no effort to set her cap at him, which was certainly the way to catch the disillusioned earl’s attention. Better yet, Lorelei had done what no other woman aside from Valerie de Beaumont had ever achieved: she had captured his attention – and held it!

  It seemed that she had accidentally dissipated the ennui that had served him for so very long. Eloise was no fool – she knew that her brother’s careful boredom was a way to keep himself from ever again growing attached to any woman.

  Such isolation was sure to bring him nothing but sorrow. Either he would remain a lonely bachelor, and end his days alone, the last of his name, or he would marry some biddable, pathetic creature and resent both her and himself for the rest of their lives. Oh, many people entered into alliances for mercenary reasons – but it would do her brother endless harm to spend his days by the side of a woman who always did exactly as he told her.

  She doubted very much that Lorelei Lindon would humour him in that way. Despite her deceptively doll-like appearance, the young lady was possessed of a strong character. She had already observed several quarrels between Lorelei and Winbourne, which promised that, if they should ever marry, they would have a very interesting future together. After all, were they not both very passionate people, to quarrel so ardently and deny their attachment so stubbornly?

  *

  Lorelei was surprised and amused to discover that Sirius was not the only animal over which Winbourne seemed to have such astonishing control. It was his quiet authority, and the way he would not disdain to scratch them behind the ear no matter what imprecations he muttered under his breath, that made him such a favourite with hounds far and wide. His manner brooked no argument, left no room for rebellion, inspired respect and affection.

  The earl demonstrated his talent when Lord Gilmont brought out his two favourite hounds to take a stroll about the grounds with the gentlemen. Lorelei watched in amusement as the dogs danced around Winbourne. He was exasperated, yet he did not send them away. He quietly berated one of the spaniels for jumping all over his fine yellow nankeen breeches and got the dog to sit obediently next to him while he contemplated the rolling scenery.

  “Well done, Winbourne,” said his host, shaking his head with a rueful smile. “They always get so dashed worked up about being taken on a walk.”

  “He always did have a hand with the animals, you know,” said Lady Gilmont next to Lorelei, startling her. She had hoped her observation would pass unnoticed.

  “Oh! Does he?” she said trying to sound disinterested. “I was just admiring the dogs: such beautiful creatures.”

  Eloise gave her an amused look. “But infinitely exasperating, my dear, remember that.”

  Lorelei was confused by this comment. “Exasperating?” she asked, wondering what her hostess could possibly have meant. But Eloise had already turned her attention to the housekeeper who had come out to speak with her, and she did not hear the question.

  For some reason, the words continued to puzzle and bother Lorelei, though she could not imagine why they should do so.

  *

  Winbourne, too, found himself haunted by things he could not quite explain. The tilt of the mouth, the graceful laugh and the undeniable spirit of Miss Lorelei Lindon would not leave him in peace, and lately his thoughts had been more alarming than ever.

  “Tell me, sister, how do you enjoy marriage?” Winbourne asked Eloise unexpectedly, as they sat together in the parlour, alone except for a ticking clock.

  It was a rare moment of peace. Lord Gilmont was out on the grounds with Hunter, Dawlish and Lord Peter. Miss Lindon had gone for a stroll with his niece and the misses Dawlish, no doubt to exchange girlish confidences.

  Eloise had been quietly engaged in embroidering a set of slippers for her husband – she found the entire exercise very droll. It was one of those rare times when the youngest Tilbury sister sat quietly, her high spirits at rest.

  Eloise was not very good at embroidery. In fact, her efforts never came out looking anything like they were meant to, but Winbourne knew for a fact that Gilmont always expressed the strongest gratitude and admiration. As far as he could see, the sentiment was genuine. It was, he thought, utterly perplexing.

  At the unexpected question, Eloise stopped her work and looked up,
an expression of keen interest on her face. “I enjoy it very much, Alastair,” she said, an amused smile flickering at the corners of her mouth. “I believe that marriage agrees with me. Furthermore, I believe it agrees with Gilmont. But what a curious question! You have never yet expressed an interest in my marriage. Nor anyone’s.”

  She regarded him shrewdly, patiently waiting for a reply.

  The earl was not himself entirely certain why he had asked. Only that, somehow, he’d found that he wanted to know. “Not at all. A gentleman ought to show some interest in the life of his youngest sister,” he said blandly, a sleepy expression returning to his face.

  “Particularly if that gentleman is considering matrimony? Who is the damsel so fortunate as to win such high regard in your eyes, brother?”

  Eloise had always been very quick. It was easy to forget, with all her smiles and chatter.

  “Nonsense, my dear. You are being an addlepate. I believe I have told you many, many times that I am not the sort of man who marries.”

  “You have,” she agreed with a teasing note in her voice. “You have.”

  Whatever else she might have said was interrupted by the arrival of Lorelei and Julia, both looking somewhat windswept. He was amused to note that Miss Lindon was still doing her utmost to avoid him.

  His sister greeted the newcomers. Blessedly, she seemed to forget all about Winbourne.

  “You missed a charming bit of gossip while you were out, my dears,” Eloise whispered dramatically, her eyes laughing. “I understand Miss Standish is all aflame with her latest disappointment.” Miss Standish was another of the debutantes who had taken Lorelei for a poor country cousin.

  Lorelei tried to look suitably intrigued, and hide the fact that she was carefully keeping her eyes away from the earl, who looked handsomely sleepy. The infuriating man got up and pretended to browse the shelves. “Disappointment? Whatever happened?”

  “I have had a letter from Honoria,” the countess went on, still looking supremely amused. “They say her beau has succumbed to the charms of a little mouse of a girl. By all accounts he is besotted, and it is said around Town that Miss Standish is quite determined to win him back.”

  “How does she mean to achieve that?” Lorelei asked, playing along.

  “Ah, my dear, it is quite scandalous! There is gossip that she means to dance at her next party in a diaphanous gown, a la Madame Recamier.”

  “That would be quite infamous, my dear. Though perhaps a lady of Miss Standish’s years cannot afford another failure: I believe this is her third Season,” drawled an ironic voice from behind Lorelei.

  She barely managed to keep from spinning around to face Winbourne. Instead, she forced herself to turn her head a little and give him a look of polite enquiry. His own eyes flashed amusement in return, before he turned back to his sister. “It would certainly make for an interesting night.”

  “Oh, I don’t agree,” said Lorelei, giving in to a perverse urge to bait the man. His blasé air was very disconcerting, and she wanted to put his back up, if only a little.

  “Do you not? How so?”

  “Yes, Lorelei, do you not think it infamous?” Eloise waited curiously for her reply.

  “Oh, yes, infamous, but hardly interesting. The novelty of Miss Standish’s dancing, however well it might compare to that of the French lady, will doubtlessly soon wear off. It is not trick that will hold up to repetition. The gown is bound to be pronounced a bore within a month.”

  Eloise laughed, but Winbourne just watched Lorelei. She had the satisfaction of seeing a small crease appear between his brows. Eloise soon excused herself to speak to Julia and they were left alone near the window.

  Neither spoke for a while, until Winbourne shot a heated glance at Lorelei. “I find myself intrigued, Miss Lindon. It is an unusual state for me, and I pray that you will enlighten me. If, as you say, the key to Miss Standish’s seduction lies not in the dancing, or indeed, the gown, how is she to win back the hapless gentleman?” His tone was quiet so that no one else might overhear the private exchange. Lorelei did her best not to react to the sudden intimacy.

  She knew nothing about seduction, of course, and even less about men who existed outside novels. She had only said what she had to bait him. Suddenly caught, she wondered how she was to answer. The words came to her of their own volition, as she felt his gaze pin her in place.

  “The eyes, Lord Winbourne. I believe such a seduction would lie largely in the eyes.” It was plain to her that he had not expected such an answer. “If you will excuse me, Lord Gilmont has just walked in and I believe I promised to parent him at whist.” She did her best to make her exit as nonchalant as possible.

  *

  Lorelei had thought that, once they were back under Lord Gilmont’s roof, she may simply embark on a clever strategy of avoiding Lord Winbourne as much as possible. That gentleman, however, appeared to have other ideas.

  He even insisted on joining her in her riding lesson with Julia, and had the audacity to be both faultlessly polite and helpful. He was kind to Julia when her mount grew skittish and her voice rose in missish anxiety.

  “You need not concern yourself, Lord Winbourne,” Lorelei said a little coolly. She stood next to her horse, a fast, beautifully-bred creature whom Lord Gilmont had been somewhat sceptical about lending to a lady. It was Lorelei’s confident catalogue of the horse’s finer points that convinced him of her sound command of equine matters.

  Looking amused, Winbourne, came forward before a groom could and insisted on throwing Lorelei up onto the horse himself.

  To let him so close to her could prove fatal despite her assumed carelessness. Yet, making a fuss would cause her to appear ill-bred and, even worse, it would make him aware of the effect he had on her. So Lorelei gritted her teeth and smiled tightly.

  “Very well, Lord Winbourne,” she said lightly. “You are most kind.”

  The proximity of him was torturous. She could feel the warmth of his strong body even through his coat and smell his scent of spice and masculinity.

  She looked down at him as he stepped back and gave her a wry one-sided smile, his dark eyes taking her in.

  “That is a very becoming riding habit, Miss Lindon,” he told her quietly, though the way he looked at her made her flush slightly, as his eyes travelled over her figure. It was not fitting, of course, for a gentleman to say such things to a lady. Nevertheless, his regard sent her pulse racing.

  The man gave her a long, knowing look. “You also have a fine seat upon the horse. Now let us see you put her through her paces.”

  “You are sorely mistaken, Lord Winbourne”, she replied smartly, “if you think I am here to provide you with a horse spectacle. You may go to Astley’s for that whenever you please. My purpose is to simply help Julia.”

  She looked over at her friend, who had been observing the exchange with interest despite her obvious lack of ease in the saddle.

  “Shall we? I must see how you handle the mare,” Lorelei said with an encouraging smile. Then, with a brief nod to Winbourne, she urged her steed onwards and Julia, reluctantly, did the same.

  With an expert eye, Lorelei assessed her friend’s horsemanship. Julia held the reins too tightly, the tension in her hands obvious even through her pretty kidskin gloves.

  “You must lighten your hold, for you will hurt the horse’s mouth,” Lorelei told her friend gently, halting them.

  “I am often told such,” Julia sighed. “But how shall I control her otherwise? I feel as though I could topple off just at any moment.”

  Julia reminded Lorelei so much of Constance that she smiled softly, and shook her head. “My sister said the same once. It is very simple, you shall see, only first you must trust your horse even as you maintain a subtle control. You are being a goose, my dear, and if you are to learn a good seat, that simply will not do. We must begin work at once.”

  They spent the rest of the afternoon trying to coax Julia out of her unease, until, hungry and tired,
they returned their steeds to the stables and proceeded to their own rooms to dress for luncheon.

  Julia was still very far from any sort of equestrian success. However, the patient tone and endless explanations provided by her friend had eased some of the nerves instilled in her by years of impatient instruction. She shyly asked Lorelei if they might not have another lesson after all, provided she did not find Julia a stupid and difficult pupil.

  That made Lorelei laugh, “What nonsense, my dear! You are no such thing. And of course we shall have another. As many as it takes. I shall make you a project.”

  They were in high spirits when they returned to the house, unknowingly observed by Winbourne and Mr Hunter from an upstairs gallery. Winbourne found he could not quite draw his eyes away from the blonde woman, whose beauty became magnified ten-fold when she laughed.

  The following day, when the ladies resumed their tutorial, Lord Winbourne joined in the lesson. He sat astride his own beautiful stallion, offering sound suggestions with a patience that surprised and irritated Lorelei. Would the man never let her be?

  He concluded his appalling behaviour by challenging Lorelei to a dashing ride, having secured her participation under guise of doubting her skills. Winbourne seemed utterly unconcerned about his healing shoulder. It was a despicable thing to do, Lorelei thought, because he knew she could not resist a race. Julia did her best to discourage such a dangerous idea, but to no avail.

  Lorelei looked at Winbourne laughingly. “A lady never engages in races, Lord Winbourne,” she scolded, with sparkling eyes, a second before she took off, her laughter ringing in her wake as Winbourne spurred his own horse to follow. He had truly an excellent command of his horse: strong and confident, the movement of horse and rider a study in graceful lines.

  It made Lorelei inexplicably itch for charcoal and a sketchbook, and her sister’s talent for capturing life on paper. She thoroughly enjoyed the gallop, and when they arrived back at the house, flushed and laughing, she was sure she ought to utterly loathe the man for making her enjoy herself so excessively.