Lorelei was mortified to find that she was being so neglectful of her younger sister and apologised profusely for her inattention, placing the blame at the door of her weariness. It was not untrue: having taken such an active part in the entertainments of the Season, she often felt worn out in the evenings.
In truth, she was alarmed over something quite different. Lorelei suddenly found herself fretting over the possibility that Winbourne may just be in attendance at Lady Gilmont’s party after all. There was no reason to suppose that he would: he had explicitly stated himself that he would not attend! And yet, a sense of nagging dread hung over her all the same. She was very tempted to plead exhaustion and remain in London.
She couldn’t decide if it was his presence she feared, or her own reaction to his proximity. She couldn’t deny that she had a habit of throwing caution to the wind whenever he was near: she had never before known such heady passions as he could awaken with just a touch. How could she weather a whole week in his company, without doing something completely unconscionable?
The fact that she could not explain her distress to her benefactress and sister only made it that much more acute. After watching her shifting restlessly on the settle for a good half-hour, Lady Hurst sent her up to bed with a warm posset. Certainly there had been enough excitement in the past few days to overwhelm even the hardiest of ladies, she declared with well-meaning concern. A rest away from the city would be just the thing, especially in such select company as the Lord and Lady Gilmont and their distinguished guests.
Lorelei spent her whole journey down to Gilmont alternately fretting over seeing Winbourne again in such close quarters, and restless with excitement at the thought. What would he say when he saw her? Would he mention any of the things that had passed between them? Would he be there at all? She refused to work herself into a state over the man and did her best to admire the pastoral scenery outside her window instead, while Nell dosed on the seat opposite. Yet, despite her very best efforts, Lorelei’s traitorous mind kept coming back to the handsome earl.
Catching sight of the house at last, Lorelei was temporarily distracted. She and Nell could not help but be utterly charmed. It was an old property exactly of the sort that would have had secret smugglers’ coves, if only it had had the good fortune to be situated by the sea. There were many walks and paths to explore and the house itself, newly redecorated by its young mistress, was all things modern, cosy and comfortable.
This was surely a good omen. Lorelei pictured herself taking pleasant strolls through the beautiful gardens, reading by the charming pond and forgetting all about the bal masque. She hoped that exploring the house, on top of the many diverting activities planned by their hostess, would prove to be an excellent distraction from the tiresome earl, who had become a constant presence on the edges of her thoughts.
Even the mere memory of his kiss left her breathless. She had to remind herself that the heroic Lord Winbourne of her golden imaginings was gone, to be replaced by the cold, fashionable creature known to the rest of Society. Was it a sign that there was a streak of iniquity in her own character that she felt drawn to him regardless?
She did not know where she stood with the man and this made her extremely agitated. Oh, she had seen his icy demeanour slip when he had kissed her, but she had also seen the ease with which it had slid back into place when his friend Orby had stumbled across them.
One thing was certain: Winbourne was far too in control of his passions for them to be genuine – Lorelei had read enough to know that people in love had trouble controlling their passions. Lord Winbourne was most certainly not in love with her. It was as though there was a side to him which he cut off and hid from view – some secret to which no one in the world was privy.
Lorelei longed, inexplicably, to learn that secret, to discover the hidden depths of this man who was the pinkest of the pink and the darling of the ton. This was a very dangerous line of thought for her to pursue…
It was obvious: any continued association would be ruinous for them both. It would not do for the ton to believe that Lord Winbourne was attempting the seduction of the daughter of the popular Baron Ledley. And she could not bear to shame Lady Hurst and ruin herself. It was all so very complicated – and the Season had barely begun! No, she would have to keep well clear of him.
*
The moment he set eyes on the delightful Miss Lindon at Gilmont House, Winbourne knew that the perplexing creature was avoiding him. It was a very diverting situation, and certainly a novel one. He was used to unmarried ladies and their determined mamas following him in droves, hoping to somehow secure his regard and name. He had never before been ignored. He found, most unexpectedly, that it rather changed the rules of the game he had thought to play.
He was at the library window when Miss Lindon’s carriage arrived at his sister’s country residence. She emerged from the chaise-and-four looking surprisingly fresh, if a little sleepy. The lady was accompanied by her maid, who proceeded to attend to the transportation of the luggage. With a little smile, the meaning of which he did not bother contemplating, Winbourne descended to the parlour to join Lord and Lady Gilmont in welcoming Miss Lindon.
Lorelei was aware of him the moment he entered the room, as though she could somehow sense his arrival even with her back turned to the door, Winbourne noted with pleasure. She turned around with obvious reluctance and her expressive eyes widened momentarily when she saw the earl.
“I did not think you would be here too,” she said artlessly, before she could catch herself.
“Nor I. But I found all other business a poor substitute for the company on offer,” the earl replied, teasing her.
To her credit, Lorelei contrived to keep her composure, though it was no easy task, he could tell by the slight tightening of her mouth. She dropped him a cordial curtsey, made no sign of having the least understanding of his implication, and proceeded to greet Julia. Winbourne noted that the two appeared to have become fast friends. Miss Lindon’s conversation with his niece was easy and bubbled with merriment.
Winbourne accepted a glass of sherry from Lord Gilmont, while his eyes followed the young woman around the room, watching as she was introduced to the rest of the company. The earl did not miss the fact that her conversation with all the other guests was far more gracious than the brief greetings she had exchanged with him.
It was the subtle but unmistakable care with which Miss Lindon kept her distance from him that truly revealed all he needed to know. He knew that, had she no regard for him, she would simply have carried on as though nothing had occurred between them.
The perplexing woman continued to go out of her way to avoid meeting him when out walking in the gardens or reading in the sunny parlour. On the second day of her visit, he saw the way Miss Lindon threw herself behind a shrubbery when he rounded the garden path down which she had been strolling. For a moment, she looked like a golden fairy creature in the sunlight, the white muslin of her gown giving her an unearthly glow. She put him in mind of the muses poets were so fond of immortalising in their verses.
Winbourne was nothing if not amused. It was a game of cat and mouse, and he had always excelled at this kind of sport. He carelessly dropped teasing little references to their previous encounters all through dinner, which she chose to ignore and which no one else understood.
He was impressed to learn that, despite her astonishing innocence, Miss Lindon was a most gifted actress. Only the slight narrowing of her eyes and tightening of her delicate hands over her silverware betrayed her agitation.
*
The company which she met at Gilmont House was indeed very well chosen, Lorelei thought, and, for the most part, she found their manners to be exceptionally pleasing.
Apart from herself and Julia, there was the Hon Mr Bartholomew Taylor, who had expectations of being a viscount after his uncle passed away. Lorelei found him to be a cheerful, humorous man, who was an utter Corinthian and had much to say on sporting matters of every
kind.
Lord Peter Wren, the second son of Lord Gilmont’s cousin, was gawkish and fresh out of school. Mr Hunter was a quiet man whose features, while not exactly handsome, were pleasantly attractive and his manner was kind. His grey eyes were intelligent and observant: Lorelei could not help noticing that they were often fixed on Julia. Lord and Lady Riverham were many years older than their hosts, and had brought their daughters, the Misses Dawlish.
Lisa Dawlish, Lorelei found, was a conceited creature determined to set her cap at any of the unattached gentlemen in the party and Camille seemed just as determined to speak as little as possible. On the whole, however, there was diverting conversation to be had at table, and Mr Taylor led them all in many games of whist.
Despite all her anxiety at the thought of seeing him again, Lorelei had been taken aback to find that Lord Winbourne was indeed to be of the party. Being at Gilmont made it harder than ever to forget him: as she took in the beautiful house, she wondered whether he too walked the same charming little paths, admired the same paintings in the library. This just led her to wonder what his own house was like. Was it warm and inviting like Gilmont House, or cold and unwelcoming like the façade which he wore in public?
She forcibly had to shake herself out of such absurd musings: her foray into adventure that night over a month ago had come at a very high price indeed. She was mystified, utterly intrigued, by the one creature who could never bring her so much as a shred of happiness.
Just that morning, he had spotted her sorry attempt to hide from him behind a camellia and pretended not to notice her – she was mortified over the entire episode. It was the outside of enough! Lorelei felt like a pudding-head. He was only a man, after all, not seduction incarnate, and she should have no problem conducting herself with perfect civility.
At dinner, the earl was resplendently dressed, as always. His burgundy coat was impeccably tailored, his Hessians polished to perfection and his cravat a veritable masterpiece. A gold watch-fob could be seen elegantly peeking from below the hem of his coat. He also seemed well-set on teasing Lorelei.
“I have yet to compliment you on the excellent way the new gardens have been laid out, Eloise,” the earl said to his sister. “The little paths are quite delightful.”
Lorelei’s eyes flew to his, which were trained on her face intently. She did not like the inexplicable warmth that flooded her heart upon meeting his gaze.
“Why, thank you, Alistair. The new head gardener possesses quite a genius for such things. Though I had no idea you had any interest in gardens!”
“I hadn’t until just this morning. Miss Lindon was good enough to enlighten me on the subject – she was particularly taken with the camellias, I understand.”
Eloise looked pleased. She smiled at Lorelei. “Is that so? Well, my dear, I own I am impressed – I’ve never been able to get Alistair to show even a shred of interest in country gardens!”
“Oh, it was nothing, I assure you. Lord Winbourne is only being kind. The gardens are truly lovely – it is not at all difficult to admire them!” Lorelei replied pleasantly, returning the smile despite her irritation.
To her relief, the conversation moved on quickly after that, though Lord Winbourne continued to bait her. Deciding that she had had quite enough of the whole business, and refusing to moon over the man no matter how well his coat fit his strong shoulders and slim waist, she made a point of engaging Mr Hunter in polite conversation.
After dinner, when they were all gathered again in Lady Gilmont’s favourite drawing room, Winbourne had the audacity to produce the moonstone pendant out of a pocket of his coat. Lorelei knew he meant her to see it as he stood talking with Lord Peter about that gentleman’s search for a decent pair of carriage horses.
The earl carelessly twirled the pendant in his fingers while Lord Peter described a pair of dappled mares he’d seen at auction and expounded on their virtues.
It was not the first time Lorelei had seen him do so. She had also glimpsed him playing with the necklace when he had not known her to be near, as if it were an object of unconscious comfort or a good-luck charm – this puzzled Lorelei excessively.
She had yet to think of a way of getting it back, after the disastrous way in which her previous attempt to ask for it at Almack’s had escalated into most improper behaviour. It seemed that, from his clothes and carriages to everything else in his life, nothing about Lord Winbourne was simple.
She found his impassivity infuriating, because it felt like a personal affront that he differed so sharply from the ideal in her head. That golden lord was quite irretrievably lost.
Fortunately, Lorelei could not devote all of her attention to her own troubles. It was not long before Julia revealed her mounting distress over the marital plans Lady Bassincourt had formed for her. The letter arrived on the third morning of their stay and sent Julia into a fit of the nerves.
After a morning of watching her friend teeter on the verge of enacting a Cheltenham tragedy, Lorelei persuaded her to venture outdoors and explore the magnificent grounds. It would never have done to leave her friend to her despair, and so she undertook to think of a way to help.
It was a fine day outside and they took with them some of the spice cakes which had been left over from breakfast. It was very pretty walk along flower beds and shaped hedges. Lorelei wished that she could remove slippers and stockings and walk barefoot on the springy grass, but she could not risk some gentleman coming upon her in such a state.
“I don’t see why I ought to marry!” Julia exclaimed as the ladies strolled through the sunlit garden, in the general direction of the fishpond. Julia’s parasol trembled with indignation and her eyes were overly bright. “Gentlemen don’t have to. My Uncle Winbourne shall never marry – and no one urges him to be more engaging. Though one does wonder if Lisa Dawlish knows that her hopes in that direction will be entirely dashed!” The last bit was said with surprising vindictiveness.
Lorelei looked at her friend with surprise, wondering if there was more to the outburst than Julia was letting on. It was very unlike Julia, who usually had a perfectly placid temperament, to fly into such a miff. Even her dislike of Miss Dawlish couldn’t explain it. Lorelei supposed that the time her friend had been spending in the company of her outspoken Aunt Gilmont was having a very definite effect.
On probing the matter further, Lorelei discovered that Julia had already been fretting for about a week because, despite finding several of the gentlemen she’d met to be perfectly agreeable, none would have done for a husband. Julia’s mother had been quite shocked to learn that her quiet daughter held such outlandish notions.
“But, my love, you could be a duchess!” Lady Bassincourt had bemoaned, her face frozen in astonishment as she brushed a shining brown curl away from her daughter’s face.
Julia had proven herself to possess a much more discerning turn of mind than Lorelei had expected. Once she had come to know the heiress better, Lorelei found her to be not only engaging company but surprisingly outspoken when in the company of trusted friends.
“Only,” Julia continued, spilling her woes, as she agitatedly plucked petals off a gardenia, “I’m not at all certain I want to be a duchess – at least not yet, and certainly not if the duke is a dead bore. I’m certain I should be as scandalous as the previous Lady Jersey!”
“Surely not!” Lorelei exclaimed, highly amused. The previous Lady Jersey had been known as much for her shocking love affairs as for her charm. It was still a sore point with Sally Jersey and her husband, and no one who had any wish to one day receive a voucher to Almack’s would dare bring the matter up within her hearing. The girls giggled at the absurd picture of Julia in such a role.
When their mirth had subsided, Lorelei took a calming breath. She watched thoughtfully as fat bronze fish flitted this way and that under the clear water.
There was something Julia had said that had taken Lorelei enough aback for her to risk voicing a question. “But what do you mean that Winbour
ne will not marry, my dear?” she ventured as casually as she could manage.
Julia blinked a moment, as though trying to recall what she had just said. “Winbourne? Oh! I meant simply that he is such a cold creature and such a terrible rogue that I don’t see how he would. Don’t scold me! I know one oughtn’t know such things, especially not of one’s relations, but one can hardly help over-hearing what is being said. Of course, I shouldn’t say that – he has always been very kind to me. He was always in the way of bringing me chocolates as a child, though mother would insist they spoiled me for my dinner.”
Lorelei surprised herself with a chuckle. She had trouble imagining the icy earl sneaking chocolate past Lady Bassincourt – such things surely belonged to the golden heroic Winbourne that had only ever lived in her imagination.
“Mother is very concerned that he should take a wife and quickly – and she badgers him about it quite incessantly, but I don’t believe she will see much progress on that head. I think it would be even worse if he were to marry merely for the sake of it, after successfully ignoring mother’s attempts to parade eligible ladies under his nose for so very long. He was affianced once, you know,” Julia continued, thinking hard. “I can’t quite remember the details – it was more than ten years ago and I was still a child. No one ever speaks of it to me, but I’ve heard Eloise mention it once or twice to Mama when they thought no one was about.”
Lorelei could not hide the startled look that spread across her face – she had certainly heard nothing of the matter! She could barely credit it. Julia caught her expression and nodded sadly. “Oh, yes. I don’t even know the name of the lady – but I believe she threw him off and he must have suffered a great disappointment! I think I remember hearing that she was French, and that she returned back to France after she broke with my uncle.”
The Scoundrel's Secret Siren Page 8
