The Scoundrel's Secret Siren (12 page)

Lorelei felt paralysed with fear as Mr Finch’s second appeared to take the earl’s words to heart, completely failing to ask Winbourne if he would not apologise to his opponent and call off the engagement. Not that it would have done any good, she realised.

Drawn steel rang through the still night.

“I say!” exclaimed Mitchell, leaping out of the way as his eager friend drew his own sword.

Winbourne followed suit, with an easy grace which suggested years of practice and an excellent rapport with his blade.

They bowed, one with disdain, the other with obvious impatience.

“
En garde
.
Prêt. Allez
!” called out Mitchell, from a safe distance, as though this were a bout at a fencing academy and not a senseless duel in the woods.

As she watched the men circle, feeling the tension build like an impending summer storm, Lorelei decided that such things were only dashing in stories. The swords looked terribly ominous – much worse than a physical brawl might have been, however undignified. She did not care that a
physical brawl was strictly prohibited among gentlemen – at least both could have come out of that alive.

It took all of her courage not to look away. At last, Finch lunged. Lorelei had never seen a duel before, and she knew little about fencing, but even she could tell that the boy was a clumsy swordsman: and yet, his movements were quick and eager. Winbourne easily deflected the attack and Lorelei knew a moment of relief.
She could not help but admire the easy strength and undeniable skill evident in his thrusts and parries. It was like a dance of the most deadly kind. The opponents’ eyes did not stray from each other as they moved and circled, advanced and retreated.

There were a few moments when Lorelei barely stifled a gasp as Finch parried and riposted with such rapidity that she was sure even Winbourne would not be able to counter, until he did and she found herself able to breathe again. The ringing of steel carried across the clearing and Lorelei was sure she would never forget the horrible sound so long as she lived.

She wondered how long the duel could go on for – surely they would tire of it soon enough, before anybody was hurt. Unconsciously, Lorelei leaned against a low-hanging branch at elbow height, riveted by the frightening battle being fought before her eyes.

She wondered about the business with the dice and who the lady was, in whose honour the young Mr Finch was so determined to shed blood. She knew many young men fought in honour of their sweethearts or their sisters – if this was the sort of thing brothers did, Lorelei was suddenly glad she had only a sister. Whatever the outcome of the ill-conceived bout, she was certain that if the lady in question had any quality to her person at all, she would not be at all gratified by the violence.

Lorelei’s father, a military man of great repute, had always scoffed at duels as the providence of silly boys and Corinthians, but seeing one in real life, the young woman found she could not dismiss them so blithely.

A particularly loud ring of steel at another violent engagement between Winbourne and Finch made her start, but they shoved apart quickly. Mr Finch’s breathing was getting heavier and his hair decidedly untidy.

“Steady on!” exclaimed Mitchell, whose presence she had completely forgotten. He appeared just as alarmed as she felt.

“Yes, Finch, do endeavour to show a little more finesse, or I shall be forced to think that you learned your technique from street brawlers.” The earl should have been out of breath, and yet he still somehow
managed to appear cool and vaguely bored, as though he were sitting though a tiresome poetry recital.

Lorelei saw Finch’s face twist aggressively before the men circled again and suddenly the earl was facing her directly. This time
, the younger’s man’s attack was so mercurial she could not hold in a gasp, and the branch she’d been leaning on cracked alarmingly.

Nobody heard her but Winbourne, who happened to look up just as Finch was pressed into his attack. The
ir eyes met and she knew he had seen her. In the next instant, the earl gave a hiss as a scarlet stain spread across the starling white of his right sleeve.

Finch took a moment to gloat, which was a very foolish mistake indeed. The Earl of Winbourne gritte
d his teeth, and in one swift lunge punctured his opponent’s shoulder. Lorelei was immobile, blood pounding in her ears.

Finch reeled back, dropping his sword. The cold tip of Winbourne’s blade was pressed into Mr Finch’s shirt over his heart. Time froze. Then, the earl said something dismissive about duels to the death before slowly lowering his sword arm as though it did not pain him in the least.

For a moment, the three men in the glade stood as if made of stone, and then Winbourne spoke again. “I think you asked me if I have the nerve, Finch. You have clearly not been associating with the right circles, else you would know exactly how much nerve I have. However, I find I have no taste in killing schoolboys, even ones as odious as yourself.  I suggest we end this game. Your friend Mr Mitchell had better make certain you see a physician before you bleed to death all over his curricle. As for your lady, I’d be careful before challenging any other gentleman for seducing a woman they have never set eyes on.”

Finch swayed slightly on his feet, his face
greying in complexion – he was obviously in a great deal of pain. Mr Mitchell rushed forward and steadied his friend. Still he glared at the earl with undisguised dislike.

With a polite, if somewhat shaken, ‘good morning’, which the earl acknowledged with a nod, Mr Mitchell helped his friend walk unsteadily back through the trees to where he had left his curricle.

There was something about Winbourne’s suddenly stark, drawn, features that pulled Lorelei to the wounded man – made her want to emerge from hiding and put her arms around him. It was completely irrational, not to mention inappropriate! She couldn’t quite understand him, couldn’t pin him down, and this unsettled her. The man frightened her and yet she still found him utterly compelling.

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 someho
w 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 you
r 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.