The Scoundrel's Secret Siren (5 page)

She had hoped that they could walk to the garden without having to speak. She would take the first opportunity to flee his company
once they had cleared the doors. She ought to have taken Constance’s warnings and never ventured out on her ill-advised adventure!

Winbourne started her out
of her self-recriminations. “You’ll be amused to know I lost my race after all,” he said in his most droll tone of voice, eyes casually sliding over her face.

His
nonchalant words felt like a slap. Lorelei kept her face carefully expressionless – she had always been good at that – a trait she had apparently inherited from her father. She could not prevent a slight stiffening of her hand, which rested delicately on his arm, and Winbourne took careful note of her reaction. He felt a strange flood of satisfaction, mixed with disbelief, that this girl, whom he had taken to be another of the milk-sop Society misses, was his midnight minx.

She took a breath before answering.
“Oh? I was unaware you had been racing, my lord. Chariots or horses?” she asked innocently.

U
nexpected laughter welled up within him and it made his voice shake slightly, “Ah, well done, my dear. I am almost convinced. But it won’t do you any good. You are caught you see, and by such a chance – it’s your hair that gave you away. You have such remarkable hair.” His voice dropped low, in a tone that was far too intimate for this setting. She almost felt as if he were mentally caressing one of the ringlets and could not repress a shiver.

“I have often been told as much. It is blonde, but there are a number of women with blonde hair
just at this party – perhaps it is one of them with whom you have confused me.”

“
They have none of them such honeyed tresses, my siren.” He was teasing her! She knew that if any of the other guests were to hear his words, there would be a terrible fuss and to-do.

“You are mistaken, Lord Winbourne.” She tried to mimic some of the iciness she had witnessed him assume
with such ease. “We have never met before today.”

“Oh?
” Casually reaching into a pocket of his coat, he produced her mother’s moonstone pendant, and twirled it on the delicate silver chain. “Then I suppose this pretty little trinket will hold no meaning for you whatsoever.”

Her
gaze followed the pendant, and he was delighted to see her green eyes flash with recognition. Lorelei was momentarily divided, but she was suddenly sure that she did not wish this cool, condescending man to have such a hold over her. She would have to get the pendant back some other way.

Meeting his challenging gaze with a
defiant one of her own, Lorelei composed herself to speak. “It’s a pendant, my lord. Moonstone, if I am not mistaken. I am not so green as to be unable to recognise a moonstone when I see one.” She was sure a heroine in one of her novels would have done the same, only better. She spoke in a voice full of self-possessed dignity and bravery, neither of which she felt just then. As they emerged into the garden, the moonstone changed colours slightly in the sun.

“You know, Lord Winbourne, moonstones are supposed to be terrible luck. Perhaps you had better be getting rid of it before it brings you misfortune.”

“Ah, but my dearest Miss Lindon, I am not the least bit superstitious. Next, you’ll accuse me of believing in ghosts, perhaps? What a delight you are. I wonder how much of your naïveté is just a clever ploy? Bad luck, you say, but I rather think it brought me the opposite.”

His dark gaze met hers suddenly, blazing with unconcealed desire
. She did gasp this time, and would have taken a step away from him, had he not at that moment grasped the hand that had been on his arm and brought it to his lips, planting a lingering kiss on the back of it. It was a kiss that set fire to her bones and sent her blood hammering in her ears.

She did not know what he might do next, but she hoped none
of the other guests had noticed the exchange. Her head was still foggy when he nodded over her shoulder. “Lady Hurst seems to desire a word, my siren.”

“She is my chaperone,” Lorelei managed breathlessly.

“Then I had much better leave you to attend her.” With a polite bow, his face resumed its cold countenance and he moved away, to join a group of gentlemen talking about a forthcoming hunt.

“My Lorelei,” said Lady Hurst, when Lorelei had joined her at last, “what were you speaking of so intently with the Earl of Winbourne?” Lorelei noticed that her guardian looked faintly concerned.

“It was nothing, Lady Hurst. We were just discussing a novel we both had read. It was a ghost story. The ending was very disappointing, you see.” She hoped Lady Hurst would not see through the prevarication. If she did, the lady gave no sign.

“Novel? I did not take the e
arl for the sort of man to bother much with novels. He is, no doubt, a man of supreme sense – it is plain from the cool distance with which he conducts himself. I had known his mother in my youth – she was a very somnolent woman. But you had much better be careful, my dear.” Her voice dropped significantly at this. “His lordship is of impeccable breeding, of course, and fabulously wealthy, but he is known about town as quite a scoundrel.”

“If you mean that his intentions might not be entirely honourable then, my dear lady Hurst, you need not worry.
Having spoken to his lordship, I do not like him above half.” Lorelei’s earnest summation rather startled Lady Hurst, who was not used to such plain speech from young ladies, especially where eligible gentlemen were concerned.

“He is a dashing figure,” said
the older lady cautiously.

Lorelei sighed
, thinking of the golden man of her imagination, and knowing that the dream had been irrevocably shattered by the reality presented by the Earl of Winbourne. “He is. But there is an iciness about him that makes all the difference. I think that to marry such a man would be akin to marrying a statue.”

Even as she said these words, filled with ringing finality, a part of Lorelei could not help but wonder what lay behind the unreachable iciness.
Nor forget the momentary flame in his eyes –
that
had been anything but icy.

She
was very certain that his inappropriate familiarity with her stemmed from that same unbreakable ice, no matter how his eyes might have blazed white heat at her. Yet, she had seen the easy way he had spoken with his sister and she was also sure, beyond her ability to justify this confidence, that that part of him had not been a front. There was a mystery there, she felt sure.

Sternly, Lorelei reminded herself that this was one mystery she would have
to leave well enough alone. It would not do to have any further connection with the man. The obvious desire in his eyes and her own inexplicable reaction to it had alarmed her very much. She knew that the best solution would be to keep as far away from him as possible. After all, with her illusions shattered, he was suddenly nothing more than a stranger.

No
, she would not speak to him again. Except for the fact that she still had a pendant to retrieve… Lorelei resolved firmly that, after she somehow recovered her mother’s necklace, she would simply snub him. She could not believe her own carelessness in having lost it.

Fu
rthermore, her mother had had a great many friends: it was only a matter of time before someone should recognise the trinket as having belonged to the late Lady Ledley!

It was not until Lorelei was home, waiting for Nell to finish gently unpinning her hair, that she considered the significance of Winbourne carrying the pendant on his person. It brought her short, as if she had suddenly been doused in icy water. What could he possibly mean by it? What interest could he have in such a trinket?

Lorelei did not quite spend the
night in an agony of indecision. She did, however, spend a portion of the morning dipping into one of her novels in the hope that she might be inspired to find a way of retrieving her mother’s pendant. Upon further reflection, she found that she was angry at Winbourne for having put her into such a precarious position by stealing the pendant. If not for that, she would have been perfectly content, she told herself firmly, to never set eyes on the insufferable man ever again. It was a relief not to have to be infatuated with him any longer.

“You’re
in the fidgets again,” Con accused, as Lorelei ruffled through the pages of her book. “I can tell, because you do not sit still two moments together.”

Lorelei looked guiltily up at her sister, but was spared
having to reply by Miss Fallon, who had been engaged in selecting a French poem for Constance to memorise.

“
That is quite enough, Constance. I have told you many times that bluntness will never do in a lady of breeding. Do you wish people to say that your address wants delicacy?”

“But it’s only Lorelei, Miss Fallon,” Constance
protested in a wounded voice.

“
That
does not matter in the least. Good breeding is not selective except in people of a most vulgar disposition. Now, had you not better return to revising your verbs? I shall test you on them after dinner.”

With a sigh, Constance subsided.
Lorelei was rather grateful that she was no longer under Miss Fallon’s stern rule. No task-master was more exacting. Even now, the governess’s stern gaze made her feel as if there were a lesson she ought to be revising.

They sat in silence for another half hour before Lady Hurst bustled into the cosy little sitting room.

“Ah, there you are, dear girls. I trust you have not been giving Miss Fallon any trouble, Constance? Your papa was very particular that you are to mind her.”

Constance looked momentarily guilty, but Lorelei doubted that their father had written Lady Hurst any such thing.
He always had great trouble remembering Miss Fallon’s name.

“Have you had a new letter from papa?”
Con asked their benefactress.

A concerned expression fluttered across the woman’s face as she took a seat next to Lorelei.

“I have not. I wonder that he does not write any of us.”

Shutting her book
, Lorelei laid a comforting hand on Lady Hurst’s arm. “I beg that you don’t worry yourself, ma’am. Papa has always been neglectful in writing, especially when he is on campaign. But I am certain he will remember us quite soon.”

Lorelei observed the
persistent concern in the older woman’s eyes with curiosity. She was beginning to suspect that Lady Hurst had developed a bit of a
tendre
for Baron Ledley.

“Well, I hope you are right, my love. But I cannot help but worry.” Lady Hurst looked Lorelei over carefully. “You look quite lively this morning, Lorelei. It is
yesterday’s party that has you in such excellent colour, I expect. I have it from Mrs Montgomery that you were much admired and, of course, I saw that you were solicited to dance almost every set.”

“It was very good of Lady Bassincourt to have dancing,” agreed Lorelei
, who had enjoyed herself – apart from that single incident that refused to leave her mind.

“And I understand you made a new friend in
Lady Julia. She is a good sort of girl – a very kind creature.”

“Oh, yes, s
he is a sweet girl. And she was quite as uneasy as I in such exalted and numerous company.”

“You will soon grow accustomed,
my dear, don’t fret. As will your friend. Lady Bassincourt hardly ever brought her up to London. I believe she did not wish to expose her to city life, which is quite hazardous to a girl’s health and character, or so Honoria Kinsey believes. I own I could not bear to live always in the country. It is a very dull place. The preference for country life is rather a peculiarity of Lord and Lady Bassincourt. Honoria has always had her flights of fancy: fancy rather runs in the family, one might say.”

Lorelei thought of the e
arl. He certainly seemed to prefer town life. Lady Hurst continued, as though she had read Lorelei’s mind, “Lord Winbourne is known as something of a rake, of course, but the ladies of that family are entirely without scandal, if somewhat eccentric. Certainly, you need not worry over being seen in their company.”

Lorelei was pleased that
Lady Hurst approved of her new friendship, and her mood was further improved when a card arrived with vouchers and an invitation to a masquerade ball to be held at Almack’s. It would be the first masquerade of the Season in that fine establishment. Lorelei was greatly relieved to have been approved by the committee of patronesses, and Lady Hurst wasted no time in paying ten guineas each for their membership.

It was
to be the very ball at which Lorelei was launched into Society and she felt a little nervous. Even being presented to the queen would not be as overwhelming as her debut at Almack’s, though the masquerade could not compare with having been interviewed by no less than three of the patronesses in order to be deemed worthy of such a launch.

Lorelei
had never been anywhere so marvellous as Almack’s, but she knew the masquerade would be a very dashing event. There was a lot of romance in all the masks and mystery. It might even be just the thing to help her get back the pendant.

S
he examined one of the tickets which would be her passport to the exclusive gathering. Seeing her name written on the card in expensive black ink, Lorelei felt her heart swell with gratitude. 

“Oh, thank you, Lady Hurst!”
she exclaimed, knowing that it was largely because of Lady Hurst’s old friendship with Lady Castlereagh that she had received a card to such a select gathering.

Her
benefactress laughed. “You ought to thank your father just as much, for he is a particular friend of Lady Castlereagh, from the days of his youth.”

“I cannot imagine
Papa as a young man dancing at Assemblies,” Constance said, looking up from her verb tables once more.

“But that is just where he was first introduced to your mama!” s
aid Lady Hurst, retrieving a discarded fan from the side table next to her and beginning to fan herself. “She was very much the thing, you know, Marie de Villette – very charming, particularly with the lilting way she spoke English. You have seen her portrait at Ledley, I daresay – such fine chocolate locks she had, and an elegant turn of the ankle also. Ledley was quite swept away. You bear a very striking resemblance to her, Constance.”

Constance seemed ch
eered by this idea, and not even Miss Fallon’s stern reminder about the verbs she ought to have been revising was enough to dampen her jovial mood. Lorelei had always thought they had gone on tolerably enough after their mama’s untimely end – they had had their papa and Lady Hurst and Nell, and many of Baron Ledley’s friends cared for the girls as if they were their own children.

Sometimes, however, Lorelei could not help but feel that Constance in particular, being
so very young, still had need of their mother.

Not half an hour after dinner,
just as Lorelei’s sister had embarked on a recitation of the ‘
avoir
’ verb to Miss Fallon, a valet appeared before the ladies to announce that Lady Gilmont and Lady Julia Kinsey had been past Russell Square to leave calling cards for Miss Lorelei and her ladyship.

“They wished to know whether Miss Lorelei would be agreeable to join them to take a turn around the park
on Wednesday morning, your ladyship.”

“Oh!” Lorelei
exclaimed in delight, “How very good of Lady Julia to invite me! I must write to her at once and accept. If you have no objection, Lady Hurst?”

Lady Hurst assured her that she had none,
pleased that Lorelei was making such fine friends. Lorelei hurried up to her room to write a quick reply to Lady Julia. She was very touched that they had thought to invite her, because a brief acquaintance at a party did not necessarily make any further acquaintance an obligation on their part.

She paused a moment,
quill pen lifted above the paper, to wonder whether Lord Winbourne would also be in attendance. The thought of driving about the park with him was a decidedly thrilling one. She indulged in a moment’s fancy picturing what it would be like to drive out in his company: surely he would look devastatingly handsome in his sporting phaeton!

Lorelei sternly reminded herself that the real Winbourne was nothing
like the golden earl of her imagination. How could that inhuman man be the hero of her midnight adventure? She remembered his cold eyes and suppressed a shiver. Although, if she was honest with herself, it was not only a shiver of dislike.

*

What followed was a busy four days of rout parties and dinners, walks and visits to the theatre. The whole world seemed abuzz with thrills and excitement, and Lorelei was certain she would remember her first Season for the rest of her life.

Lorelei’s favourite part was easily the evening
Lady Hurst took the girls to a ballet, which Lorelei had always enjoyed most profoundly and which had her smiling and wiping her eyes by turns. Things were certainly turning out splendidly, she decided, the Earl of Winbourne, for a moment, far from her mind.

It was
also not long before Lorelei was firmly on the way to being good friends with Lady Julia Kinsey, since the young ladies often found themselves thrown together at social gatherings, and had soon discovered many common interests. The two of them could often be glimpsed sitting on a park bench together, their parasols held charmingly aloft as they exchanged confidences.

Though she was herself completely unaware of it,
Lorelei had also caught the attention of the
ton
. Her mischievous smile and golden ringlets could not but earn her a loyal following of admirers. The interest in her was bolstered by the marked friendship of Lady Julia, the most eligible heiress of the Season, and of the fashionable Lord Winbourne himself. Gentlemen widely agreed that the luminosity and liveliness of her green eyes was quite incomparable and that her laugh was enough to melt anyone’s heart. Her dress was deemed suitably modest by the sharp eyes of Society matrons and her discreet use of jewellery drew admiration of her fine throat and hands.

She was supposed, quite mistakenly
, to be a young woman of modest means, which had earned her an initial snubbing by some of the more high-nosed young debutantes out on the Season. Far from upsetting Lorelei, or making her feel out of place in the glittering company, this mistaken supposition caused her endless amusement.

Lord Ledley, a sensible military man and a widower, had no taste for frivolity, and while his daughters had never wanted for anything, he had always been of the lowest opinion regarding the blatant display of wealth.
He was well-received in Society because of his handsome appearance, sound good sense and excellent humour, though he dressed with the modest practicality of a military man.

Though
Lorelei was not quite an heiress, her mama had left her and Constance with healthy independences and her papa would provide a respectable wedding portion when such became necessary. Miss Lindon, whatever the other girls may have whispered about her single string of pearls, could look forward to slightly more than four thousand a year.

It had not taken her long to notice the snubbing.
When she confided her suspicions to Julia at Mrs Roland’s card party, her eyes sparkling with dark merriment, her friend seemed suitably appalled.

“Oh, no,
Lorelei, how can you!” Lady Julia exclaimed, looking anxious. “That cannot be at all right! Why, it would make no difference to me if you hadn’t a guinea to your name in all the world.”

Lorelei smiled at her friend. “But of course not, Julia, for you are
the sweetest creature in the world, but the same can hardly be said for Maria Dunn.”

“
You are exaggerating, because you are so kind. But I would much rather be elegant and haunted than sweet – one never reads of sweet heroines.” Julia’s pretty round face looked momentarily wistful.

“
I am sure many young ladies feel that way. I often do! Miss Fallon, my former governess, was always very strict with such notions, you know. She believes novels rot common sense and destroy character. And I never meant to read them in her lessons – only, one can never quite help it. You might know how it is, when one only means to dip one’s eyes in for a minute and the next thing it is dark out and one cannot stop until the whole mystery has been thoroughly unravelled.”             

She
was met with nothing but understanding from Julia, whose significant vice at school had been reading novels which her Aunt Eloise had been kind enough to keep sending, despite her mother’s disapproval.

Another personage that could commonly be found lingering
somewhere within view was the Earl of Winbourne himself. A man of fashion, birth and wealth, as Lorelei learned from Maria Dunn’s incessant chatter.