The Scoundrel's Secret Siren

by Daphne du Bois

  Both girls stood quietly a moment, mulling over this, as a light breeze fluttered their pale muslin dresses. Lorelei shivered despite herself. She was astonished at having never heard so pertinent a piece of gossip. It was an old scandal, perhaps, but such things had a way of surfacing all the same. It sounded like a very sad tale. She’d thought that she had a rather keen understanding of the dissolute man, but perhaps she had really understood nothing. Lorelei wondered, also, how much else she did not know about him.

  Lorelei thought of the many different aspects of his character that the earl had inadvertently revealed to her. There was the icy fashionable creature known to the ton, whose brief dalliances never lasted more than a few weeks. And there was also the different kind of amusement appearing in his eyes when he had teased her, though admittedly his fun had been at her expense.

  Most of all, she thought of the devil-may-care stranger she’d met that night on the Little Paddlington road. She had always imagined that disappointment was the sort of thing that happened to ladies. Certainly not to handsome wealthy gentlemen like Winbourne. And even at his most arrogant, he couldn’t have deserved to be thrown off in so cruel a fashion that everyone would avoid speaking of it evermore! She wondered what could have prompted the French lady to act so drastically.

  Once again, the new image of him, which she had begun to build up in her head to replace her golden ideal, was unceremoniously shattered. Lorelei didn’t suppose she would ever be able to put the pieces together in any coherent way.

  He was such an odious man outside the rosy world of her imagination! And yet, though she was certain she disliked him excessively, she felt a twist of pain as she imagined how he must have felt when his betrothed had cried off. She did not like picturing his suffering. Somehow, suffering struck her as particularly tragic in so reserved a man.

  “Well, that’s all in the past and I am certain it doesn’t matter a whit now!” declared Julia brightly, breaking through her grim thoughts. “You are very fortunate that neither Lady Hurst nor your papa wish for you to make a match by the end of your first season!”

  Lorelei did not feel her own affairs to be so very fortunate as that: it was all a sad tangle, despite Lady Hurst’s tolerable outlook regarding her suitors. Strictly speaking, Winbourne was not even a suitor! Lorelei forced herself to dismiss her musings for the moment and attend to cheering Julia up their ramble out in the fresh air.

  It took Lorelei a good while to convince Julia that all was not lost, and though her friend carefully avoided revealing any more of her troubles than she already had, Lorelei could not shake the suspicion that there was more to be discovered under the surface. Having promised to think of some way to aid her friend, she seemed to fractionally succeed in cheering Julia’s bleak mood.

  They spent another hour chatting about silly unimportant things by the fishpond, until Julia felt sleepy and retreated to the house for a nap. Lorelei stayed longer, producing a slim book from a pocket in her spencer. Lady Hurst had been kind enough to supply the young lady with more adventure books since Lorelei had finished all the ones which she had sent. She was currently completely taken with The Forsaken Baron, a novel of smugglers, hauntings and Sir Philip Harclay, the brave and marvellous hero.

  It was a pleasant day and Lorelei disdained the wooden bench in favour of sitting on the springy grass, with her back to the tree, enjoying the cool breeze and the gentle sunlight that fell in dappled patches through the greenery above. She felt a little somnolent in the warm evening, and she let the words of the story wash pleasantly around her, as she pushed all real concerns out her mind. The sun had already begun to set when she thought to return to the house, feeling much refreshed. Nell would soon be looking for her to dress for supper.

  With a reluctant sigh, Lorelei closed the book, bidding a farewell to another noble hero, though this was only a temporary farewell. Sir Philip Harclay, she knew, would never vex and disappoint her. She tucked the volume back into her pocket and regained her feet, looking regretfully at the soft grass.

  Lorelei was slowly making her way back to the house, trying to puzzle out what was really bothering Julia, when she heard the sound of hooves in the distance along the broad drive which led to the Gilmont house. She wondered curiously who it might be – certainly none of the guests had gone away and no one new was expected.

  By the time she neared the house ten minutes later, there were voices coming from the other side of a little hedged enclave with a fountain in the middle. One was angry and agitated, and the other was languid and dripping with contempt. She could not make out all of what was being said because the voices were muffled by running water, but something, perhaps the agitation of one of the voices, compelled her to move closer.

  As she had known at once, Winbourne was one of the speakers. She caught a glimpse of him through a narrow gap in the hedge. The other gentleman present was, by all appearances, in a very high passion over something. She could not see his face, but he sounded younger that the earl. Not much older than herself, really.

  With a sigh, she briefly wondered if she was destined to keep running into the man even when he wasn’t looking for her. She had no wish to eavesdrop on his quarrels. Knowing that she had no right to listen in to the private exchange, Lorelei was about to hastily step back and resume her walk to the house, when the rising anger in the second voice made her stop short. She peeked through an opening in the hedge, feeling guilty all the while.

  She could just about make out the expression on Winbourne’s face, which was set in a disdainfully menacing smile.

  “…I know perfectly well that you’d put the doctors on me, Winbourne!” declared the unknown man.

  “I assure you, Finch, I did not cheat you. I had not even touched the dice – much less adjusted the outcome of an entire game. Your bad luck is entirely your own, though perhaps the brandy is to blame for your failure to recognise the time to bow out gracefully. And as for the lady – I have never set eyes on her. You ought to check your source of information, or perhaps even ask the lady herself. However, if you demand satisfaction, far be it for me to deny you – I will consider it my social obligation to humour you. You may spare yourself the trouble of writing me a note of challenge. Will it be a l’outrance? Though perhaps you will see sense – I do not wish to kill you.”

  Lorelei’s blood ran cold. She knew from her novels, though it was sure to be unsuitable for a lady to know such things, that a l’ outrance meant a duel to the death.

  Lorelei could not imagine anyone engaging in such barbarism in real life! She pushed the horrifying image of Winbourne lying on the ground, lifeless and bloodied, out of her mind: it made it difficult for her to think or breathe, and she could not lose her concentration at such a crucial moment.

  The earl’s voice, however, was not in the least concerned: it was nothing if not withering. She could almost picture his young challenger flushing as the earl gave a single bow, which exuded exasperation and excellent breeding.

  “Will you have us meet at daybreak to pull caps then, like angry dowagers?” he mocked.

  “I demand satisfaction!” exclaimed the younger man, recovering himself. “We will fight to the death, sir, if you have the nerve! At dawn. I suggest you choose your second!”

  Winbourne regarded his challenger with a look of outright astonishment. “What, and send for him all this way? Oh, no, Finch. I can’t be bothered with that nonsense. In fact, I am not in the habit of crossing swords with reckless boys at all, but perhaps you will only benefit from the lesson. We will meet at dawn, as you say. There is a decently thick copse of trees next to an inn not three miles down the road from here. The Hog and Horse. That is where we shall meet and resolve our conflict like gentlemen. Do try and remember your sword.”

  The conversation appeared to be drawing to a close, if the earl’s dismissive words were anything to go by. As quickly and quietly as she could, Lorelei backed away, though her mind was otherwise occupied.

  So lost was s
he in her own anxious musings, that she was not at all certain how she came to find herself back in her own bedroom, nor whether she had met anyone on her way there. Lorelei’s head spun as she lay back on her bed and stared sightlessly at the moulded ceiling. A duel! She knew that gentlemen did sometimes engage in duels, despite the fact that duels were illegal, but in her mind such things had been firmly confined to stories.

  Such things were exciting when done by Sir Philip Harclay in the course of one of his many adventures. Undoubtedly, Winbourne would be equally dashing through out the whole, yet he would also be in very real danger. She could not feel any excitement in thinking of the engagement which was to take place at dawn.

  Lorelei did not know if the challenge was deserved – Winbourne’s withering responses to the younger man seemed to suggest not. And she found she did not care. Deserved or not, she was sure she could not bear the thought of Winbourne going out to take part in a duel to the death, with not even a second to watch his back or broker for peace.

  Men could be such savages! Winbourne was odious and arrogant, but the very thought of him dead or wounded was enough to make her heart clench painfully, and her breath stop short in her chest. Lorelei could not explain it, and she did not try, instead thinking furiously over what was to be done – because she knew without the shadow of a doubt that something had to be.

  Furthermore, she had to do it alone. She could not go to anyone for help – she might have overcome her shame at eavesdropping and confided in Julia or Eloise, but she did not think that would do any good.

  Julia hadn’t the disposition to deal with such concerns – she would panic or cry, and reveal their plan before it could be carried out. And she was not so well acquainted with Eloise to involve her! Besides, they could not prevent Winbourne from going, and it would only make Lorelei look ridiculous in his eyes and cause her friends needless distress. The thought of doing that did not sit well with her.

  Lorelei thought of all that she could remember about the nature of a duel, seeking some solution to her dilemma. She had heard the usual tales of woe that resulted from two men meeting at dawn: death and broken hearts. She had also heard of the convoluted duels conducted by more eccentric gentlemen – she found it very difficult to credit most of these outlandish tales.

  Surely, no gentlemen would actually conduct a duel engagement in hot air balloons! As all such things, this aerial duel had apparently been held in France, over the love of a rather fickle young lady. Balloons were very wonderful things, of course, but how would one even fight in them?

  Lorelei had seen marvellously colourful balloons on several occasions, as they drifted high above the city – there had been a display of them in Green Park not three years ago, when she had been little older than Constance was now. She had always wondered what it would be like to go up in such a contraption – equally perilous and exciting, she was sure. To have the whole city spread out far below her like some sort of marvellous tapestry! Why spoil such a thing with a violent engagement?

  Winbourne’s upcoming duel was not at all marvellous or adventurous. She was truly frightened for him.

  If only she could think of something that she could do! Was she not supposed to be brave and imaginative? She was so very sure that she had been brave going out to look for ghosts, and this was a much more important matter!

  No ideas presented themselves, however. That evening at dinner, Lorelei was more than usually abstracted, and Eloise had had to address her twice before getting the young lady’s attention.

  “Lorelei, my dear, is everything all right? You are so very quiet,” Lady Gilmont said, her pretty features wearing an expression of concern. Aware that everyone’s eyes were on her, Lorelei felt her cheeks warm.

  She gave Eloise a quick smile. “I beg your pardon! I am quite well, only a little weary – I had been reading by the fish pond, and I may have stayed too long. I see now that I am not very good company, and for that I must apologise.”

  Lord Gilmont laughed at that. “Nonsense, Miss Lindon! Far be it for my wife to take offense at a young lady’s pursuit of knowledge. Why, I have lost count of the many times she has favoured a novel’s company over my own!”

  “Especially when knowledge is pursued so relentlessly as that!” agreed Lady Gilmont good naturedly before turning to speak to Mr James Hunter.

  He was speaking of his expected inheritance, and of the favourable position of the country house of which he would one day take command. Julia sat with a wistful expression on her face, which was extremely intriguing. Lorelei glanced away from her friend to find Winbourne giving the girl a cursory glance before meeting her gaze.

  He raised both eyebrows at her, before returning to his conversation with Lisa Dawlish. Lorelei noted with distaste that the other girl was simpering over Lord Winbourne’s skill with his curricle. She had never personally seen him drive, of course, but somehow she doubted very much that Miss Dawlish could recognise a capital whip when she saw one. No doubt she already had her driving dress picked out, Lorelei thought with dislike.

  “It must be quite something, to take a turn about the park in such a vehicle!” Lisa Dawlish declared, with a meaning smile.

  Lord Winbourne gave no sign of catching her meaning. “I am certain you would not think so, if you ever had the chance – the horses are very nervous creatures, and I make a point of never driving ladies.”

  “Certainly not!” agreed Mr Taylor cheerfully. “It would be very unsporting to do so – you would have to drive most sedately, or risk frightening the lady in question. And any gentleman prepared to waste fine horseflesh by driving sedately is quite hopelessly under the cat’s paw.”

  “Lorelei is a very good driver,” Julia said, only just coming into the conversation.

  The other speakers turned their eyes on Lorelei in astonishment and the lady in question made a point of shaking her head dismissively with a shy grin.

  “Is that so, Miss Lindon?” asked Winbourne with interest.

  “Julia is very kind, but I am afraid she rather exaggerates my talent. I am only passably adept at handling a pair – it is another peculiarity of Papa’s that, if we should learn to drive ourselves, we had to assure him that both our necks and his carriages would remain undamaged,” she answered merrily.

  “From that I can only gather that you are being modest. But perhaps we shall see! I should be very curious to see you drive.”

  “What a splendid idea!” declared Mr Taylor enthusiastically. “We can make a race of it!”

  “Come now, Taylor – I believe my wife will strongly object to your making a sport of any of her guests! Now, the fish is quite another matter…” As Lord Gilmont led his friend in a discussion of his favourite lake-side triumphs, Lorelei felt relieved at having been spared driving a curricle around the Gilmont rotunda like a trick pony at Astley’s.

  As the attention of the other guests returned to their meal or dinner companions, one pair of eyes lingered on Lorelei’s face. She could feel him watching. Suppressing a shiver, she looked up quickly and met his eyes, which were dark and unreadable across the table. He was scanning her face intently.

  He could not possibly know what had been gnawing at her thoughts all evening, she assured herself. He could not have seen her listening from the other side of the hedge. For a moment she could not look away from him, or perhaps did not want to.

  At last, she tore her gaze forcefully away, and asked Lisa Dawlish about the excellent make of the yellow straw bonnet she had worn that morning, with all the joie de vivre she could force into her voice. While the young lady talked enthusiastically about the bonnet and then the genius modiste who had made her new gowns for the Season, Lorelei struggled to keep her attention on the conversation and nod when good manners called for it.

  “Of course, Mama has always said that no expense ought to be spared where one’s appearance is concerned, Miss Lindon,” Lisa said. “Or indeed one’s future.” This was aimed at Winbourne, Lorelei thought, darkly. Though sh
e did not care, in truth.

  She had no time to be annoyed at Lisa Dawlish. Lorelei’s thoughts were occupied with trying to find a way to ensure the earl’s safety. He would not even bring a second! She was very sure that gentlemen always brought seconds – and with good reason! And she still could not ask anyone for help – that was entirely out of the question.

  It suddenly occurred to Lorelei that she could go herself and make sure Winbourne remained alive. Well-bred ladies never even acknowledged that they knew of a duel, much less did they attend one – but she could not leave him all alone. She simply could not. No one should have to face such danger alone…

  How could she have missed something so obvious? It was not entirely proper, perhaps, but what was propriety compared to the life of the man… compared to a human life, she concluded firmly. A sense of relief flooded through her, almost making her giddy. How she would go about accomplishing such a feat was a matter she had yet to give any concrete thought, but for the present it was enough to have thought of something.

  Chapter 6

  It was just like the night she had snuck out to look for ghosts on the Little Paddlington road, only with less in the way of fanciful imaginings and none of the shivery thrill at the promise of adventure. This was no childish gambol on which she was embarking.

  She was nervous, and still lacking in any definite plan, but Lorelei refused to fall apart at the thought of what lay ahead of her. She would think of something! Instead she steeled herself and did a credible job of convincing a somewhat suspicious Nell that there was nothing at all the matter that a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix. Lorelei pretended to drift off to sleep while the abigail fussed around the room, though behind the sleepy façade her mind raced.

  She did not trust herself to wake up before dawn and she could not ask to be woken so early – it would be a peculiarity she would have been unable to explain. Instead, Lorelei endeavoured to stay up and wait until dawn. She waited restlessly until the house quieted down with slumber and then carefully lit the candle at her bedside. The hours stretched on before her.