And still he would not let her be. Even in his absence, he haunted her imagination. As though sensing her desire to be rid of him, Lord Winbourne had gone so far as to invite them all on an outing to Astley’s Amphitheatre. If Constance got wind of such an invitation, Lorelei knew there would be no avoiding it. It had been a deplorable trick on his part.
While Lorelei had smelled a rat the moment Eloise informed them of the invitation, Julia had been very excited at another chance to see her beau, for Lord Winbourne could not in any way fail to invite Mr Hunter without it being interpreted as a grave snub.
Eloise had insisted that, since Julia was to stay at her London house overnight, Lorelei and Constance must of course do the same, and Lorelei had known from that moment that her fate was quite sealed: to Astley’s she would go.
*
Lorelei wondered about Lord Winbourne’s supposed paramour all the way home, despite her best efforts to convince herself that she simply did not care. In her imagination, the woman only grew in beauty, wit and accomplishment every second, to the point where surely no other lady could ever hope to compete.
Not that it mattered to her whom Winbourne chose as his bit of muslin. They could - indeed, should - have nothing to do with one another again. Lorelei knew that better than anyone else. It was clear the earl had not the least intention of taking a wife, and if he did, she would certainly not be the sort of wife he’d want.
Why would he pick a woman who snuck out at night to look for ghosts and who followed gentlemen to duels? She was not at all the sort to make a suitably elegant and distinguished countess. And he, who always kept an icy distance between himself and the very same world that emulated him as a paragon of fashion, would certainly not make any sort of decent husband for her. She could not bear a life with a husband who thought only of himself!
This realisation ought to have been enough to make her forget the whole sorry business and the infuriating earl. And it was telling of the trouble in which she found herself that Lorelei was quite unable to stop thinking of him regardless.
Constance and Lady Hurst were both very pleased to see her, and while Con instantly set about attempting to ferret out every last detail of Lorelei’s stay at Gilmont, Lady Hurst’s enquiries were more subtle. She had been aware that a number of gentlemen of consequence and name had been invited to Lady Gilmont’s ball, and wondered if Lorelei had found any of them markedly engaging.
The young lady was momentarily uncertain how she ought to reply to such a question, for she did not wish to lie to Lady Hurst. Lorelei was careful to pronounce the company exceedingly pleasant, but informed her benefactress that, unlike Julia, she had had no gentleman pay her any particular attention. After all, she reminded herself, Lord Winbourne was very far from a gentleman.
It was perhaps the slight tinge of pink along her pale cheeks that gave her away, but Lady Hurst did not for a moment appear convinced. She gave the girls a very stern look over her fan, though the amusement in her voice rather took away from the effect.
“You know, my dears,” she said, “fancy notions about matrimony are all very well and good, but poverty does not make for very lasting affection. Young ladies have a remarkable way of being notoriously picksome while secretly falling in love with poor officers. To this I can attest from my own girlhood.”
After the events of the previous night, the previous week, Lorelei half-expected Winbourne to make a morning call on the day she returned to Russell Square. After all, any proper gentleman might be expected to do so after only dancing twice with a lady at a ball! But there was no sign of the beastly man.
Lorelei firmly told herself that it was a relief, really – fancy explaining such a visit to Lady Hurst! Then she threw herself into telling her sister all about the dances, the games and the gowns she had seen at Gilmont. Constance loved hearing of such things, and the gowns especially had had her full attention.
Lorelei also took out the delicate silk cloth she had been embroidering before she set out for Gilmont, looking dispassionately at the intricate border of scrolls and roses, rendered in pale silk thread. She sighed and reached for her favourite penwork sewing box, which her father had made for her birthday five years ago.
The sight of it always cheered her: it was decorated with pictures of pretty birds and flowers rendered in colourful ink and enamel. The delicate imagery had always struck her as somehow magical, and she felt instantly calmer.
When she was done telling Constance and Lady Hurst of Gilmont, it was her turn to be told all about the week they had passed in London – the bonnets ordered, the visits made and received, and all the latest on dits about town. She listened quietly as her sister told her all about her new bonnet, making suitably approving remarks concerning colour and shape, while she continued with her embroidery.
The following morning, Lorelei and Constance sallied forth on a walk. Con had declared that she had missed her sister terribly, which Lorelei thought that was almost certainly a way to finagle hot chocolate out of her, but gracefully bowed to her sister’s wishes.
Constance had been particularly delighted to be allowed to skip her lessons with Miss Finch that day. Lorelei had teasingly told her sister that she had no doubt Miss Finch was just as glad of a day off without having to drill arithmetic or French into her erstwhile pupil.
They passed an excellent morning as they looked at ribbons and giggled over the latest Gothic novels in a bookseller’s windows. Constance was even so bold as to quietly point out a few dashing gentlemen who happened their way, comparing them to pirates, charming brigands, or dashing heroes. She was being quite awful, Lorelei told her in between giggles, impressed with her sister’s daring.
Con’s pretty curls and wide brown eyes, however, provided her with an ideal look of innocence beyond suspicion. Lorelei suspected that Constance would one day grow into a hellion to be reckoned with, and mercy upon the gentleman who happened to catch her eye.
Con even talked Lorelei into purchasing her a new ribbon ornament for her hair, which Lorelei did with all the fondness of an older sibling whose sister had spent all her allowance on paints, and who still had gloves to buy.
Then, Constance talked her sister into going to the chocolate house where they enjoyed delicious cups of bitter French chocolate and delicate, light almond cakes. Constance was very fond of sweets, so much so that their father often teased her about her sweet-tooth.
The sisters were engaged in finding new satin gloves for Constance to wear to Astley’s when it unexpectedly began to rain and they were obliged to hail a hackney to take them home. It would not do to get soaked and catch cold before the auspicious evening. Even making an unseemly dash for the hackney was great fun. It was as though she were temporarily in a different world, and Winbourne none of her concern. Constance, who had always loved the rain, was particularly pleased with the excuse to take a hackney.
She was all aflutter at the thought of an outing to Astley’s. She’d felt somewhat left out, with Lorelei invited to Society parties and to Gilmont, while she herself had been obliged to remain at home. Con told her sister that, while she did not care for horse-riding much herself, she loved to watch equestrian shows.
“Oh, if only Papa were here to go to Astley’s with us! He always says such droll things about the entertainments, after! I almost enjoy that more than the programme itself. ”
The general, who had as little tolerance for absurd thespian productions as he did the opera, always had something vitriolic to say after the shows, particularly about Astley’s, which he considered to be the pinnacle of absurdity. “I believe, my dear, the trouble lies in the fact that I am not a frivolous young lady,” he had once told Lady Hurst, “and so I cannot find any diversion in handsome acrobats or the inexplicable involvement of horses in an already ridiculous plot.”
Lorelei was given to understand that, since the passing of their mother, the general had never gladly set foot in an opera house, no matter where the Prince and the rest of his set wish
ed to go. Lord Ledley preferred instead the more absorbing amusements of his club, the races and the kind of theatre that promised serious entertainment without either singing or horses.
Recently, Lorelei had been pleased to note, he had taken to inviting Lady Hurst to accompany him to the theatre.
As they enjoyed the ride home, Constance unknowingly made Lorelei feel quite uneasy and flushed by asking if their host that night was not the handsome gentleman from the park who had saved Lorelei from being dragged into the lake by Sirius. She confided that she had never seen a caped coat sit so well on any other man, nor so heroically.
Lorelei, who was aware that Winbourne generally lacked any heroic side whatsoever, opted to keep quiet on that head, though she felt the acute childish urge to disabuse her sister of her misconception.
The rain only grew stronger when they alighted at Russell Square. The faint drizzle beat on the side of the carriage and Lorelei just knew that it would not stop by the time they had to disembark. Lorelei’s straw bonnet would be utterly ruined, but she was having far too good a time with her sister to worry about bonnets.
*
They arrived home worn out, but happy, and well ready for the light meal Lady Hurst had requested be prepared for them. In the course of the day, Lorelei had managed to almost completely put the exasperating earl from her mind, and so she was astonished to find a note for her from Julia, asking her to come to Lady Bassincourt’s townhouse on Upper Brook Street as soon as she was able.
Lorelei wondered if this strange frenzy had something to do with the earl, who had been so flint-hearted to Julia the previous night. She was sure it had to. After taking her meal and a fortifying cup of tea, she had Nell bring her a dry hat and gloves. Lady Hurst graciously excused her unseemly rush as Lorelei hurried to the aid of her distressed friend.
Lorelei ordered the carriage sent round and, before she knew it, she was on her way to Upper Brook Street. She was received by a retainer and hastened into a beautifully appointed parlour. She was more than a little concerned to find Julia already waiting for her, wringing her hands and wiping her eyes with a pretty handkerchief. Next to her a tea tray sat untouched. Her face was pale, and her eyes wide and sad.
“Oh! Lorelei!” Julia exclaimed upon seeing her friend, and her face crumpled.
Lorelei hurried to the other girl’s side, producing her own dry handkerchief.
“My dear Julia, whatever has happened? Do stop crying! I am very sure that if you only tell me what is wrong, we shall think of something.”
Faced with such unimpeachable practicality, Julia finally stopped weeping and sat restlessly on the settee.
“I must confess that I have been entirely out of spirits since last night, for all chance of happiness is surely lost now that my uncle has refused to help in the matter of my beloved Mr Hunter! It seems I am doomed to a tragic and spinsterly fate, because if I cannot have him, I shan’t marry at all. How could my uncle Winbourne have been so cruel as to imply that Mr Hunter’s sentiment is nothing more than calf love! Why, this very morning, when I met my uncle in the parlour, talking to my brother, George, he did an even worse thing – he behaved as though nothing had happened. As though he did not take the attachment of my heart, or my consequent suffering, to be in the least part a serious thing!” Julia paused a moment, trying not to cry again, before continuing despondently, “I ran outside all flustered and was almost run-over by a dilly. My maid near fainted. It was most mortifying, and I am certain I must look a right dowdy and a fright.”
With those words, Julia seemed about to work herself into another fit of the nerves and it took some crooning to get her to calm down. “I am so sorry,” she said at last, her voice raspy. “It is very ill-bred of me to blubber all over you by way of greeting! Please forgive me. No doubt it is nothing – I am only being a silly girl.”
“Stuff!” Lorelei dismissed. “Are we not friends? Now, do leave it to me, my dear – I’ll work Winbourne around to helping you.”
*
After Lorelei had taken her leave of Julia, she felt herself more determined than ever to prevail upon Lord Winbourne in the matter of her friend’s betrothal.
She felt strangely and unexpectedly energised. Despite sternly reprimanding herself, Lorelei knew a breathless excitement at the thought of the upcoming visit to Astley’s Amphitheatre. She told herself that a lot of this had to do with the fact that she had not been there for many years, having been taken ill and obliged to remain at home the last time Lord Ledley had gone with Constance. It had nothing to do with the company.
When she returned home, it was to find that the new gowns she and Constance had ordered had arrived in time to be worn to the upcoming entertainment. Lorelei was momentarily distracted from her plans by the genius with which Lady Hurt’s modiste had created her gown.
It was a beautiful burgundy, made of the finest satin and embroidered along the bodice with tiny seed pearls. Lady Hurst was very pleased with it also, and deemed a creation of unbridled magnificence. Lorelei ran reverent hands over the gown spread out over her bed, lost in admiration. It felt almost a sin to wear such a thing for the risk of tearing or damaging it.
When she donned it at last, with Nell’s invaluable help, the fabric flowed around her figure, highlighting her pretty slimness. She felt like a fairytale princess in the sumptuous gown. As Nell fixed her hair a la Sappho, Lorelei wondered idly whether Winbourne would think it fetching, before firmly reminding herself that his opinion did not matter in the least.
Standing in front of her mirror, Lorelei carefully fingered the elegant string of pearls about her throat. It had been a present from her father – something suitably demure for a young lady to wear in her first Season. The milky strand subtly emphasised the fine pallor of her skin.
“What a pretty gown! It is even better than that gown we saw printed in La Belle Assemblée. It’s a shame you do not have an emerald necklace like that lady on the fashion plate,” remarked Constance, who had come in to admire her sister’s gown and show off her own pale blue one. “They are all the rage, and it would go beautifully with your eyes!”
Lady Hurst, who was dressed to dine at the home of her cousin, looked over at the girls and chuckled. “What a goose you are, my dear Constance! Why, the pearls are much more becoming. This habit of wearing all one’s jewellery at once, which has lately become so popular with the younger set, is very tiresome to look upon. ”
*
Lord Winbourne arrived promptly at seven of the clock to escort Lorelei and Constance to Astley’s. Lady Hurst seemed astonished at this show of favour, having assumed from his missive that he would merely send a carriage. Lorelei watched as the earl proceeded to charm Lady Hurst with his good humour and excellent manners while they waited on Constance to join them in the parlour.
Though she carefully observed his every move, Lorelei could find no trace of the earl’s habitual hauteur, though she kept sneaking glances at his handsomely aristocratic visage. On the contrary, he was grace itself, and somehow managed to make Lady Hurst, a notably proper grande dame of the ton, blush as he genteelly assured her of her charges’ safety.
Lorelei did not trust him from that moment on: had he turned up mocking, reluctant and cold, she would have known just how to proceed with him. She would have known then that he had no tricks up his sleeve and she need not be on her guard. But now she knew that she could not hope to relax at all that evening, for surely he was up to something.
Lorelei greeted the roué with calm reserve, thanking him for his generosity. She caught the brief smirk he flashed her.
Constance was predictably late. Lorelei expected the earl to say something cutting about silly young girls, but he said nothing at all on that head, merely offered a polite nod and accepted Lady Hurst’s offer of some tea while they waited.
Lady Hurst excused herself a moment to speak to her housekeeper, leaving Lorelei alone with her tormentor. Lorelei felt instant unease, even though the door remained open, as wa
s only proper.
“Well, Miss Lindon, do you intend to snub me all evening?” the earl drawled. His voice was warm, intimate and slightly mocking.
He had the audacity to examine her through a quizzing glass, which hung on a black satin riband around the earl’s neck. The gold frame reflected the light coming from the fireplace.
Lorelei knew for a fact that there was nothing in the least bit wrong with the man’s eyesight. The elaborate article was used solely with the purpose of mocking, snubbing or intentionally misunderstanding – whichever happened to suit the earl’s current whim.
She had heard from Julia that Winbourne wielded his quizzing glass with more invisible force than Mr Brummell ever had, and while Lorelei had never met Mr Brummell in person nor witnessed his levelling a set-down, she could very well believe it. He meant to play on her good breeding, she realised angrily. A cool fury came over Lorelei as she decided to give the man a taste of his own medicine.
Lorelei narrowed her eyes in a way that Winbourne found to be utterly charming.
“Snub? I was not aware that I had snubbed you. Only maintained a proper degree of distance, my lord Winbourne. You will no doubt recall that such a thing as decorum exists for a reason.”
“Perhaps, though I suddenly find I cannot recall what that reason might be. Dare I hope that you will educate me? Ah, but you are angry that I have not humoured my niece.”
“Am I? Are we to be at daggers drawing then, Lord Winbourne?” she asked in her most saccharine tone.
“Only if you persist with this bit of nonsense, my dear. But that is not to be borne!” declared the earl fervently. “You are an insufferable creature – you say whatever comes to mind and you pull my cousin into these ridiculous notions of yours. I know for certain that she had none of these romantic ideas before you met her, Miss Lindon. It is outrageous!”
“You only say so because I disagree with you and won’t obey you as everyone else does. But I don’t see why you assume that I should.” She did not look the least bit ruffled as she said this.
The Scoundrel's Secret Siren Page 17
