The Scoundrel's Secret Siren Page 11

  Lorelei nearly gaped at the realisation around which she had been skirting for days. He was nothing like the perfect hero she had conjured in her mind, and yet somehow she was more drawn to him than ever!

  He stood still as a statue until the other men were gone, and then, as if he could stand no longer, he dropped the sword and collapsed on his knees. Her heart in her throat, Lorelei was out of her hiding spot and across the glade. He did not look at her until she was kneeling before him, mindless of her dress.

  Winbourne’s eyes met her anxious green ones, and somehow he managed to chuckle ironically through the pain that she knew he had to be feeling.

  “I should have known,” said Winbourne dryly, “that your unfortunate habit of slipping out of the house when you are expected to stay inside like any proper young lady is not so easily quelled.”

  Lorelei was momentarily flustered. What a thing to say!

  “Did you come to see a real duel, Miss Lindon? Ah, but no. You have come for your good-luck charm, is that not so?” His laugh was pained as he attempted to staunch the bleeding with his left hand. “You might as well take it – it does not seem as potent as I’d imagined.”

  She ignored this. “I came to see that you returned home in one piece, my lord. Eloise – Lady Gilmont – would not have you bleed to death in the forest and you have brought no second. Now, you can be as vexing as you like, but you will not chase me away.” She glanced pointedly at his bloodied sleeve. “With your wound, I very much doubt you will make it to the house. We must take you back to the inn – a doctor will have to be called.”

  He gave her an unreadable, curious look. “I am very touched by your concern, Miss Lindon. It is, after all, your fault that I am in this sorry state at all. There is your wretched pendant, for one. And the fact that you decided to follow me. I own I did not expect to see you in the gloom, like a ghost come for my soul. Or a siren. Hah! I have been waiting for some time for you to sing me to my grave. It is no wonder your voice calls to me even when you are silent. But perhaps it is yet too soon for my requiem. I assure you, I shall live. It is only a great shame that that boy has damaged my coat. It is quite beyond repair, for I have bled on it, and my valet shall never forgive me such a slight.”

  That statement was absurd. Why, he still seemed nonchalant about the morning’s work. Proud, almost!

  “Whoever said anything of requiems? No doubt you think that it would be appropriate just now to be accompanied by a quartet playing See the Conquering Heroes Come.”

  The earl snorted. “You are a very vitriolic creature, Lorelei,” he managed, even under the strain of pretending that he was not in any significant pain.

  Ignoring the delicious shiver that went through her at the way he said her name, Lorelei frowned. She moved away a moment to scoop up Winbourne’s cloak and coat, and then returned to where he still kneeled, watching her movements.

  “You are not daunted by the sight of blood?” Winbourne enquired with some surprise, while she looked him over, deciding the best way to proceed. He was large and muscular and she hoped he would be able to stand, because she hadn’t the slightest hope of lifting him.

  Lorelei gave the earl a startled glance of her own. “Oh, no! I have a little sister, you know, and while she was most admirably cautious as a child, I was not. I’m afraid I had talked her into a lot of mischief that ended with blood and bruises for us both. One does get accustomed.”

  “Blood and bruises!” He echoed, his voice strained but still amused. “I pity your father.”

  Lorelei was surprised into a laugh. “Not at all – Papa was very practical on such matters. He felt it would build character.”

  “How unusual.” Winbourne’s respect for the baron grew considerably. Then he seemed to notice Lorelei’s worried expression and guess her thoughts, even as she bent down to offer him a hand.

  “I can see you think me an invalid, Miss Lindon, but I assure you, this is not my first flesh wound.” Ignoring her attempt to help him rise, Winbourne stubbornly struggled to his feet. He regretted it a moment later when the ground tilted ominously.

  Lorelei instinctively moved closer, putting his uninjured arm about her shoulders. “Oh, I harbour no illusions on that head, my lord,” she said, with a dryness that made him chuckle, then hiss as the slight movement disturbed his shoulder. “And I do believe that it is best you don’t ask me my opinion of your activities for this morning – I’m afraid that if you ask I’ll be tempted to tell you, and then we are certain to quarrel.”

  “Then, by all means, I had better not ask.” His eyes were scornful. “But I wonder how it is that of such things. Is it your habit to attend duels?”

  Slowly, Lorelei got them moving in the direction of the inn, careful not to wince at the weight of him on her shoulder. “I know perfectly well that you have a reputation for just this sort of engagement. Your most recent duel was the talk of the town for weeks – it would have been impossible to avoid hearing all about your defeat of Lord Harvey and way you spirited away his mis –” Lorelei broke off abruptly, suddenly aware that she had let her tongue get away with her.

  There was a moment of silence while Lorelei did her best to ignore her mortification and focus on keeping the earl upright as they walked uneasily down an uneven path that led away from the glade.

  “His mistress?” Winbourne asked after a moment, while she angrily wondered where he found the energy to make fun of her while bleeding all over his shirt. “And should you even know about the demi-monde, Miss Lindon? It is my understanding that ladies of breeding do not let such notions pollute their innocent minds.”

  She would later wonder at the daring, fed by the sudden flash of anger that caused her to retort sharply. “And it is my understanding that gentlemen of breeding do not duel at dawn.”

  Winbourne was momentarily taken aback by this show of spunk, once again re-evaluating his estimation of Miss Lindon. He had been aware of the passion bubbling under the surface of her cool reactions to his teasing, but he had thought that passion buried deeply under a rigid veneer of social proprieties.

  “But I never claimed to be a hero, my dear,” he replied in a low voice.

  Lorelei was surprised by the note of something that might almost have been bitterness in the cultured briskness of his voice. Having witnessed Winbourne’s blasé attitude and his perpetual excesses, it was easy to forget that he too was capable of suffering from hidden pain. The unexpected notion gave her pause.

  “I don’t believe you are quite the villain you cast yourself to be,” Lorelei said softly after a long pause.

  “Don’t you?” It was mocking and so soft that she was not certain she was meant to hear it.“My dear Miss Lindon,” said Winbourne, with mock patience, voice unsteady, “you cannot hope to understand. A gentleman’s debts are a matter of honour. They must be repaid at all costs, and to be accused of cheating at cards is an unthinkable insult. Had the overzealous Mr Finch not challenged me first, I should have been obliged to challenge him.”

  “You are lying. You would have done no such thing. You made no secret of the opinion you have of Mr Finch.”

  “Ah, is that so?” His voice was scornful and she chose not to reply, refusing to participate in childish squabbles.

  After what felt like an eternity, they emerged out of the trees and into the courtyard of The Hog and Horse. It was a typical small country establishment, with two sprawling floors and a stable attached. The inn was far enough from any big roads that the dusty courtyard was not busy. Mr Mitchell’s curricle was gone and the arrival of the dishevelled young woman with a man in a blood-stained shirt immediately caused a stir. Two stable-boys came running up to them, and Lorelei gratefully let them relieve her of the earl’s weight.

  Winbourne felt a stab of anger at himself – he hated having to show such weakness, especially before a member of the fairer sex. He was snapped out of his self-reproach when he heard Lorelei’s voice briskly order a room and bandages from the landlady who had rushe
d out to greet them. Miss Lindon was no longer a siren. She was every inch a countess, and he found this even more attractive. The earl almost snorted – what a time to feel a stab of desire.

  Lorelei waited impatiently for bandages to be brought, along with water, laudanum slution and the best ointment the proprietress, Mrs Avery, had in her possession. Recognising that valuable minutes would be lost in a fuss, Lorelei had taken swift control of the situation with such authority that the landlady did not dare question their sudden appearance or the earl’s wound.

  When these necessities were brought, Lorelei ordered the anxious-looking young servant girl sent by Mrs Avery to hold the bowl of water. She picked up a piece of cloth, soaking it in the hot water and in her urgency ignoring the fact that it burned her delicate hands.

  Lorelei wasted no time, swiftly cutting the earl’s blood-stained shirt and carefully peeling it away. Winbourne grimaced and gritted his teeth as she cleaned his wound, first with water and then with a bit of the whiskey Mrs Avery had sent up. He gave no further sign that he was in pain, though his agony had to have been acute.

  Heart pounding and mind racing, Lorelei realised that the wound was deep enough to require stitching. Sending for the necessary tools, she made the earl gulp down more whiskey in a desperate effort to numb some of the pain.

  “No doubt this is an excellent occasion to practise your needlework, Miss Lindon,” the man said dryly, in a voice that was rough with pain.

  She supposed that Winbourne meant to rattle her, or perhaps to hurt her feelings. Lorelei looked him unflinchingly in the eye as she replied primly, “I need very little practice. You’ll be pleased to know, no doubt, that I am known for my excellent needlework. Tell me, Lord Winbourne, why swords? Is not the fashion now to bring one’s pistols?” Her voice shook as she spoke. She realised that she was angry at herself for being such a fool as to let him catch sight of her, and angry at him for engaging in such an utterly idiotic pursuit in the first place.

  “Why, don’t you know, the sword is so much more satisfying than the barking irons, Miss Lindon. And also more accurate. You ought to be flattered – you were witness to the first man in ten years who had managed to draw my claret! But what is the matter?” he slurred, looking closer at her. “Why, by gad, you are angry!”

  “I am not,” she lied, because she did not wish to explain her feelings. The young woman collected her thoughts before continuing. “It is merely that I am focused on closing your wound before you bleed out. You may try to bluster me as much as please but, be that as it may, I won’t have you dying for the sheer stubbornness of your character,” Lorelei declared.

  The chambermaid brought needle and thread and then Lorelei sent her away. They continued in silence. Though she was certain the earl was in a lot of pain despite her best efforts to work quickly and neatly, Winbourne still uttered not a sound and only the clenching of his fist was any indication of his discomfort. Lorelei felt her own heart clench at the thought that she was causing him further pain, however necessary, but she felt even more concerned by his complete refusal to show so much as a shred of weakness.

  “There, that ought to suffice,” she said at last, inspecting her handiwork. The stitching looked grisly and she supposed she really ought to have been alarmed, but Lorelei thought the situation much too dire for such theatrics.

  Winbourne moved his arm experimentally, before nodding. “I owe you thanks for the trouble you have taken on my behalf, Miss Lindon,” he said, voice very unsteady from blood loss and alcohol. “I suppose you must be aware that if you remain here with me, even in my current state of …incapacity, you will be ruined. I fear my reputation rather precedes itself. No doubt our good Mrs Avery is well aware of my name.”

  Lorelei gave him a surprised look, though there was still anxiety to be read on her face. It had become obvious to Winbourne that her distress truly wasn’t caused by the sight of blood – she had proven herself of some considerable mettle in that department. But she could not possibly be concerned for his wellbeing, could she? His eyes narrowed.

  “Or perhaps you do not mind it,” he said it his coldest voice.

  “I beg your pardon?” said Lorelei, who had begun to clear away the bandages for something to do that did not involve sitting in such alarming proximity to him, now that he no longer needed her. She had done all she could to help him, but his blood loss had been considerable, and she was worried.

  “Ah. Of course. You are an innocent. It would not have occurred to you that this would be the perfect means to entrapment, would it? A means of securing for yourself the title of countess, and a considerable fortune?”

  Lorelei froze, then flushed with anger. She had never before been so insulted! How ungrateful and utterly boorish of him to imply such a deplorable thing! She knew that some of the young ladies of the ton had purposely snubbed her, believing her to be of inferior fortune because of her father’s frugal life-style, but she had always laughed such nonsense away. And yet, to hear such an insinuation from Winbourne was more than she could bear.

  “I assure you, Lord Winbourne,” she said, voice tightly controlled, “that though I am younger than yourself and my fortune not as considerable as yours, I am very far from being either so desperate or so foolish as to ever throw in my lot with yours. There is no fortune large enough to tempt me to that end. I would remind you that it is you yourself who have been taunting me these past few weeks. All I wanted was to have my mother’s pendant returned to me and then to be left alone. Now, I suggest you sleep.”

  She stood up to sweep imperiously from the room, and had just about reached the door when his voice froze her in her tracks. “Then I suppose you would claim that it is my well-being that concerns you? That you are near in tears for worrying over me? Perhaps you believe it would be your fault if I were to perish this night.”

  Lorelei turned around slowly. “Oh, no. The injury is your own fault entirely, for letting that man call you out. It would be no fault of mine, just your own folly. But I am sorry you are so jaded as to think that no one can have any concern for you beyond your fortune. You are incorrect, but I believe that I understand you much better now.”

  “You understand nothing!” he barked, infuriated by her calm words. Where was the brash, fanciful girl who had run around the countryside looking for spectres?

  Lorelei took in his alarmed expression and came back to the bed. In any other circumstance, she might have found his expression comical.

  “I will send to the house,” she told him gently. “They ought to be informed.”

  The earl sneered weakly. “And how will you explain your presence, pray?”

  “I’m very sure that I’ll think of something,” Lorelei said with her usual determination. It cost her some effort in the face of his obvious pain and stubbornness. She was certain she’d come up with a likely tale – perhaps she had found herself unable to sleep and had gone for an early morning walk when she had found him.

  “No. Absolutely not. I will not have some coxcomb of a doctor clucking over me. This is not my first wound, Miss Lindon, and I assure you I have survived far worse than this.” The finality in his voice stopped any further protests Lorelei might have been about to make.

  His eyes were cold and unreadable, and she knew he would not be moved on this point. She did not agree, but she did understand pride. He was obviously the sort of man who abhorred weakness in himself. Lorelei wondered if that ever left him feeling lonely.

  How he must hate having me see him like this, she thought, and felt an inexplicable sadness seize hold of her heart. She didn’t like him very much, but for some reason she felt that his trust might not be such a bad thing to have. To be the only person in the world he trusted! She quickly cut off that line of thought. This was no time for fancies.

  “Very well,” she nodded, making her reluctance perfectly plain in her tone of voice. “I shall do as you ask and tend to you myself as best I can. But you had better stop being absurd then – this is not y
our deathbed and I won’t have you making yourself melancholy.”

  “Your servant, madam,” he said dryly, but it was obvious his heart was not in it as he moved his shoulder experimentally and winced.

  “And I will write to Eloise,” she said with her own steely determination. “She must be informed – you surely do not suppose that none will notice our disappearance! Heaven knows what they would think. I will convey your wish that none should come here and I am certain she will keep the matter quiet.”

  Winbourne could see how her father must command the respect of his dragoons. Lorelei Lindon might have made a fine one too, had she been born a lad. It was a side to the girl he had never seen. She made him take a shallow spoonful of laudanum and watched sympathetically as he winced at the flavour.

  Lorelei did her best not to be alarmed at the deathly pallor of his skin, and the unsteadiness of his voice. He was always so contained and controlled that seeing him like this utterly disturbed her.

  Laudanum and the loss of blood seemed to catch up with Winbourne, for he sagged against his pillows and in a few moments he was asleep. She remained in the room until Mrs Avery came up and insisted she remove downstairs for some tea while Molly, the chambermaid, sat with Winbourne. She was even so good as to provide Lorelei with a clean gown of her daughter’s while Lorelei’s own dress was taken away for cleaning. Lorelei did not wish to leave him, but there was no sense in starving herself so that she ended up too weak to be of any use.

  Downstairs, the landlady fixed Lorelei with an unsettling scrutiny. “Now that you are all cleaned up, miss, and the gentleman asleep, perhaps you had better tell me whether this is an elopement? You should know that we don’t hold with such around here.”

  So startled was she by the question, that it took Lorelei a moment to reply. “An elopement! Oh, certainly not! His lordship was wounded in a duel this morning, and I came across him on an early walk. I am a very light sleeper. Only, there was no time to take him back to the house – I barely managed to bring him here. We are staying up at Gilmont House, you see – Lord Winbourne is her ladyship’s brother.”