Kindness… Pity! The silly chit, with her ridiculous ghost stories and novels, pitied him, he who had everything in the world and could not want a thing more! He, who had a score of eager debutantes hopefully watching his every move, despite their certainty that he lacked any warm feeling or moral fibre. Unwilling or unlucky!
*
Something had changed between them. Irrevocably, utterly changed, Lorelei knew. After the harshness and intimacy of their words and gestures the night before, there was a new edge to the undeniable attraction between them. And attraction it was – she knew she could not lie to herself and call it anything else, but she resolved not to like it one bit.
The next morning, Winbourne was still pale and much too weak to travel, which was probably for the best because it had started raining and the country lane outside the window quickly turned as muddy as the sky was bleak. Lorelei occupied herself by continuing with one of the few books available at the inn.
The subject matter of most of these was far from inspiring, as she cared neither for farming nor rare birds of the West Indies, and the only thing of interest she could find once she had done with her novel, was a book of French fairy tales.
She took the hefty volume with her when she went to check up on the patient, and it caught his attention as she set it on the side table, before asking him how he did.
“Just fine, Miss Lindon. It is you and not I who chooses to be difficult about my well-being. But I see you have found a way to keep yourself amused.” He indicated the book and Lorelei flushed. No doubt he already thought her the silliest of creatures, and this was bound to enforce his opinion tenfold.
“Tolerably amused,” she replied, taking a seat in her accustomed chair.
“Only tolerably? I’ve always thought such stories to be most diverting.” The patient’s eyes sparkled at her despite his obvious indisposition.
“You are quizzing me, sir. You think no such thing,” she replied, her own eyes returning the challenge.
“No such thing! Why, I always enjoyed them as a boy, and perhaps one day I shall read them to my own son or daughter. They have a strange kind of truth in them, Miss Lindon, don’t you think? Provided one has the sense to look past the obvious.”
Lorelei was taken aback by the note of earnestness in his answer. She also felt an almost-crippling tenderness flood her heart as she pictured him reading to his children, seated eagerly around a winter fire in his study.
It took her a moment to clear this idyllic image from her mind. She did her best to add, in a wry tone, “But are they not full to the brim of love – the exact sentiment which you so ardently profess to be nothing but foolishness?”
“Not always. But then they are also full of magic, and you’ll allow, Miss Lindon, that such is merely fiction also. One allows for more frivolity in fairy tales then in real life. Besides, there are many truths to be found alongside the fiction.”
“Well, I have never yet seen magic,” she said wistfully, “but that does not mean a most subtle magic does not exist all around us, hidden in the little things. But perhaps you will one day have occasion to revise your opinion.”
Winbourne took in the gentle set of her pretty face and the way her eyes gazed wistfully out of the window and a part of him wondered if he just might not reconsider, after all. Then he came back to his senses. Had he learned nothing from Valerie? The effects of his fever were, he decided, more grave than he had supposed them.
“I very much doubt it, my dear. In the meantime, perhaps you will honour me by reading one of those stories aloud?”
Lorelei had not expected such a request. She was surprised but, more than that, she was oddly touched by it. Such a little thing, she thought, and so unlike the distant, infuriating man she had come to know. She could not see a shred of dishonourable intention in his request. She gave him a genuine smile and nodded.
“Very well, Lord Winbourne. Perhaps this will keep us both tolerably amused.”
She opened the book and began to read. One story flowed into two, then three, until it began to grow dark outside and Lorelei lit a candle so that she could continue reading. Her voice was gentle but clear, at times mournful or full of glee.
She was an excellent reader but Winbourne would have been hard pressed to name a single of the stories she had read to him. He was far too diverted by the caress of her voice and the movement of her expressive face, which told the stories better than the book ever could.
As her voice lulled and tempted, he could see how sailors might have been drawn closer to death with just a siren’s song. Lorelei seemed to live the tales with every page and as she drew him in, living up to her namesake, he could not resist her.
*
It was on the morning of the third day that they were finally set to return to Gilmont House. Lorelei felt herself stifle a yawn, watching from her window as the covered barouche drew up outside the inn.
Lady Gilmont had sent back a message that they would be picked up in all secrecy and delivered to one of the many side entrances of the grand house, so that none might see them. She had thanked Lorelei most profoundly for taking care of her brother and assured her that she had made excuses for both and that none of the others except her husband was any the wiser. Eloise delighted in intrigue, after all.
Greatly relieved, Lorelei shared this news with Lord Winbourne. For his part, Alistair felt a strange stab of annoyance that they were to return already – a most inexplicable sentiment, for he felt nothing but a great revulsion towards the shabby establishment and his intolerably cramped room.
They did not speak much on the way back and Lorelei felt suddenly nervous. They had begun to build up a strange kind of understanding or, at least, a truce and she did not know how this shift would affect their usual verbal skirmishes. She had to grudgingly admit that she rather enjoyed quarrelling with the man – he was nothing if not witty. And he had yet to give her back her pendant!
It was still very early in the morning and a chill permeated the air. Lorelei could not quite suppress a shiver and Winbourne insisted that she cover her lap with the rug.
“It would not do, Miss Lindon, for me to restore you to my sister in a high fever,” he said, looking at her lazily from under his eyelids.
She fought another shiver – though this one had nothing to do with the cold.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, as casually as she could, accepting the thick blanket.
It was thankfully not a long ride, for she had suddenly become aware of the potency of Lord Winbourne when it was just they, in a cramped cabin. His injury seemed temporarily forgotten as he eyed her from the seat opposite hers, for all the world as though she were a delicious morsel on display at the chocolatier’s!
In was, Winbourne thought, the moral outrage with which she reacted to his presence that made her such irresistible prey. As well as the deliciously melting way she succumbed despite herself. And he felt very much the hunter.
Lorelei was very grateful when the carriage finally drew to a halt. Eloise met them outside, covered in a warm shawl and frowning in concern. A valet helped Lorelei down from the carriage. Winbourne refused any help, saying in his coldest voice that he was not an invalid no matter what his sister thought of the matter.
Eloise was visibly relieved at the sight of him, so much so that she even answered him tartly, pointing out that if he was not, then he certainly did a poor job of looking otherwise. Lorelei could well understand her concern – the niceties of being a society hostess meant that she had been unable to leave her guests to attend to her brother without divulging the pressing reason for such a lapse in etiquette. Eloise instructed the servant to accompany the earl to his room, where Howe, his own valet, awaited him.
Then, she turned to Lorelei.
Before Lorelei could so much as blink, the older woman enfolded her in a warm hug, for all the world as if they were sisters.
“Oh, my dear, I shall never be able to thank you sufficiently!” Lady Gilmont exclaimed at la
st. “I daresay my brother owes you his life. I was ever so worried when he could not be found. Your maid insisted that you were abed with the headache and it was not till your letter that I knew that you were missing also. She is a most loyal woman. Pray do not look so concerned – no one else knows but my husband, and he is the very soul of discretion. It is so fortunate that you came across Alastair as you did. But tell me, what happened? ”
Lorelei hesitated, wondering how much was fitting for her to tell her hostess. Duels, after all, were not a suitable topic of conversation and she had no wish to distress Lady Gilmont further.
“I –” she began hesitantly, but the older woman interrupted her.
“Oh, fiddle, my dear! As if I could not guess! My brother has been duelling again, hasn’t he? You must not try to spare my feelings. He has the devil’s own temper when riled – I know that quite well.” Eloise frowned at this and shook her head. “I do so hate it when men call each other out.”
Lorelei nodded. “As do I. Especially as they often do so for the most astonishingly hare-brained of reasons. I came across your brother in the middle of the engagement – I could not sleep and thought a stroll might do me good. Only, I had not quite realised how far I had gone. I think my appearance startled him, and he dropped his guard a moment. I am afraid it is largely my fault that he was hurt at all.” Her voice caught at the memory of Winbourne, pale and bleeding.
“Not a bit of it, child!” Eloise exclaimed, and hugged her again. “My brother can be most insufferable – it is his own fault for duelling. You were very good to get him to the village and tend his wounds. You must not blame yourself. ”
Lorelei took a moment to regain her composure.
“Thank you, you are very kind.”
Eloise smiled tiredly and shook her head. “I am not – especially since I have had you standing here in the cold, while I rattle on like a fribble. You are shivering! Come, we must get you to your room. I shall have your abigail and some hot chocolate sent up immediately. ”
Lorelei was startled to realise that she was indeed shivering. She had been so very nervous that she had not even noticed. She was bundled inside and Nell was called to order a hot bath and produce a warm, crisp nightgown for Lorelei. The maid did so with utter briskness, all the while expressing her relief at Lorelei’s safe return.
“I had thought, miss, for one dreadful moment that you had taken flight with that rakish earl! Oh, I’m sorry I ever thought it, but you were gone and then so was he, and I was all affright for I did not know if you were well, or where you were, or what I should say to Lady Hurst when I saw her!” she said as she brushed out Lorelei’s golden hair. Lorelei had felt her eyes closing as her exhaustion caught up with her, but at that her eyes flew open again.
“Oh Nell! You did not really, did you? I am not some sort of cork-brined ninny to elope. And especially not with the Earl of Winbourne.” she felt it was important to add that last bit: for Nell’s benefit, but also a little for her own. She refused to think of the feelings that his kiss had awakened within her, or of the delicious fire of his touch.
Nell regarded her with an unreadable expression. “He is a very handsome man, miss, and very well-turned out in other ways too.”
Lorelei felt guilty, for her answer was not completely truthful. “Perhaps – but I assure you, he is most insufferable. I expect more from any man I wed than a handsome countenance and good shoulders. No, he was wounded when I found him and it would not have been right to abandon him at that inn, to the unskilled mercies of country doctors. You know how Papa feels about country doctors. ”
Lord Ledley had always sworn by London specialists and proven military physicians, who knew how to bind a wound with every expediency. Lorelei suddenly missed him very much.
It had been unavoidable that in all the excitement of the Season and the incident of the duel, she had been distracted. But now she suddenly found that she couldn’t wait until Lord Ledley was returned to them and she could be comforted by his steady reliable presence once more.
“I am certain his lordship would be very proud of you, miss. It was a very sensible thing to do. If you’ll permit me, I think you did very well. But now you are back, and you must go to bed so that you may go down later today and the company can see that you are perfectly recovered!”
“Thank you, Nell. Good night,” Lorelei said softly, as she burrowed deeper under her warm, soft blanket. She was asleep before Nell had even left the room.
Chapter 9
There could be no denying it: Winbourne was hunting Lorelei with his eyes. His gaze followed her every move, caressing, devouring, and making it hard to think or breathe or play whist with the other guests.
When she looked up, cheeks warm and hands unsteady, he was always engaged elsewhere – talking of riding out with Lord Gilmont’s new hounds or teasing his sister about her bright hair ribbon or reading a book. But she knew that he watched her, because only his scrutiny could make her blood race in such an improper, immodest way!
He was trying to seduce her, slowly and steadily. Lorelei was convinced that she was just a step away from becoming fast and so she was determined not to watch him back, not to let him catch her eyes lingering on his face.
The morning after their return to Gilmont House, Lorelei woke early, still weary from her unexpected adventure. After a fortifying cup of cream tea in bed, she felt herself much better able to face the odious earl. She found, much to her confusion, that his unassailable arrogance both repulsed and attracted her. He never failed to leave her breathless with just a glance.
She came down to the parlour to be greeted by a chorus of concerned enquiry. Lorelei blushed prettily at the attention of the other guests and assured everyone politely that she was quite well again and was only sorry to have missed a whole three days of their excellent company.
“Oh, my dear Lorelei, you had been so very out of sorts that your abigail was quite determined that I not go in to see you,” Julia said, still looking concerned. “I hope we did not disturb you with our game of badminton on the lawn?”
“Not at all!” Lorelei said honestly. Then she laughed. “I am very sorry that I missed it! I always enjoy badminton. It is most unusual for me to feel ill, you know. I have a very stout constitution, though perhaps it is not the way of ladies to admit to any such thing! I am mortified at my indisposition.”
The Hon Mr Taylor looked at her with unconcealed admiration. “Not at all, Miss Lindon! I think it very admirable in a female to be hearty – I cannot abide all the swooning and the smelling salts. My own mother has always been quick to her vinaigrette and I find I have developed a certain horror of cut-glass bottles.” His eyes sparkled with mirth and Lorelei rewarded him with a smile, nodding her thanks.
She felt strangely giddy all of a sudden, as though the past three days had been nothing but a delirious dream and she had awakened at last to a world where such searing desire was nothing but the stuff of fiction. Certainly there was no place for it in polite Society!
“In fact,” Mr Taylor continued, “perhaps we ought to have another game so that Miss Lindon does not feel so very left out. Besides, I believe, Hunter, that you owe me another game. I maintain that your victory was merely fortuitous – I slipped on the wet lawn!”
The quiet gentleman smiled a little. “Very well, Taylor, I shall give you a game!”
Julia giggled at this and Mr Hunter looked a little gratified. “Perhaps, Miss Lady Julia, we may rely on you to be the judge?” he asked, his manner faultlessly gracious but for the slight nervousness about the mouth.
Julia pinked and bit her lip a moment before replying, “Certainly, Mr Hunter. I vow I shall be a most fair judge.”
“You will be a veritable goddess of Justice, Lady Julia,” Taylor declared, because he was always cheered by the prospect of exercise in the fresh air.
Miss Camille Dawlish insisted that they would have to find somewhere where she could sit out of reach of the sun and her sister gave her a reproa
chful look, before asking Lorelei about the modiste who had done such marvellous work with her morning dress.
*
The game of badminton went on splendidly. Lorelei had been put on a team with Mr Taylor, whose obvious enthusiasm for any sport at all seemed catching: she found herself happily joining his good-natured ribbing of their opponents. The sun shone gently and pleasantly above them and the air was delightfully fresh.
Lisa Dawlish and Mr Hunter were doing their best, but lacked some of the bubbling sporting spirit that seemed to give the other team much of their zest. The Riverhams, sitting in the shade with Lord and Lady Gilmont and partaking of some lemonade, shouted the occasional encouragement at the players.
“I say, well done, Miss Lindon, what a splendid arm you have!” Mr Taylor praised her when she scored them yet another point and their victory.
She laughed, for all the world as if she didn’t have a single care but to win the game, and her lovely laugh carried pleasantly across the lawns. It was at that moment that she happened to glance up and find that yet another party had joined their merriment. Lord Winbourne had inconspicuously taken a chair beside his brother-in-law and his eyes were unmistakably focused on Lorelei.
Even at that distance, in the bright sunlight, she could tell that there was something unusual in the way he was watching her. His face was an unreadable mask, though it bore none of his usual carefully-maintained conceit.
He was staring as if he were a drowning man and she his last hope. In his eyes she read bewilderment and longing and another, stronger, emotion that made her own heart catch and her breath disappear. She trembled a little, even as Mr Taylor offered her his arm to lead her to partake of the refreshments.
“Ah, hello Winbourne!” greeted Lord Peter in his most urbane voice, only just noticing the older man. “Our good host said you were called away to town. How did you find London in this sweltering heat?”
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