Banished to Brighton by Sydney Jane Baily

Chapter Eighteen

James jumped up fromhis chair and came around the corner of the table. Drawing out her chair, he squatted down before her.

“Please Miss Talbot, don’t cry.”

She snatched up the napkin from her lap and used it as a handkerchief.

“Why not? You’ve got it all out of me. Yes, I am in financial distress. To put it plainly, my lord, I am at low tide. While my brother makes ducks and drakes at the gaming hells, the devil himself may dance in my pockets they are so empty.”

The absurdity of a beautiful lady in an evening gown talking about her empty pockets and wiping her tears caused a flash of anger to tear through James. Of course, he knew how the world worked and that she couldn’t earn money. He also knew how an heir could be a profligate spendthrift. But he couldn’t fathom her parents allowing their only daughter to fall to this fate of insecurity.

“Your parents seem woefully negligent,” he said softly, hoping it didn’t make her start crying again.

She hung her head. “They didn’t know how dreadful it was in London. I tried my best, and I thought I could...,” she trailed off, sniffed, and then started again. “I thought I might start over in Bath, but that wasn’t to be. Then I recalled the Prince Regent’s birthday and knew he was planning to come here this year. So I thought I would...,” again she trailed off.

“Await Lord Aberavon here in sunny Brighton,” he supplied.

She looked at him and blinked her lovely eyes. “Precisely.”

“I suppose it’s as nice a place as any, less rainy than Bath and without the dreaded slip-slops.” He hoped he could lighten her mood with a little jest.

She shrugged. “I can no longer afford even gruel. Nor can I pay the entire bill at the Old Ship, which is due tomorrow. I’m a shilling or two short.”

“A shilling or two?” he asked, believing her because he now knew her to be careful with money and particular down to the penny. “What will you do now?”

She looked away, pursed her lips, and said nothing.

He recalled their first meeting and how she’d wolfed down the sandwiches.

“I am sorry I left you with the bill from the café.”

Her gaze swung back to him and, wonder of wonders, she laughed, a lovely sound despite the situation.

“I was annoyed when you did it,” she admitted, “but it doesn’t matter now. That small coin wouldn’t save me from—”

“From what?” he demanded.

“From whatever comes next. In truth, I am not sure. I have never been quite so low.” She looked down at the soiled gown. “I cannot afford to stay another night, yet I cannot afford passage home.”

“Besides, what would your fiancé think if you left now?” James reminded her, not sure why but reluctant to have her leave. Then he realized why. He would miss her presence in Brighton and had imagined he would be the first to go.

She gave another short laugh sounding more despondent than happy. Rising to his feet, he reached out his hand. They could speak more comfortably in the drawing room. But she hesitated and looked at the table.

“Aren’t there other courses to come, my lord, and what about dessert?”

It was James’s turn to laugh, and he did, then he went back to his seat and nodded to the footman, who had remained plastered against the wall, forgotten. And the meal commenced with a dish of mackerel seasoned with fennel and mint. Next came a fine roasted chicken and roasted vegetables bathed in a rich butter sauce.

James watched her enjoying every bite while letting her chat in between mouthfuls, and he considered the options. He hadn’t known her long, and what he knew of her wasn’t exactly innocent. She’d tried to trap him and then had been perfectly free with herself despite being engaged. And she’d let him kiss her soundly on more than one occasion and nearly tup her in her hotel room.

So why, after the last savory course had been cleared away and dessert was imminent, did he find himself making her an offer?

“If you wish, you may stay in my spare bedroom.”

She gasped, apparently taking in a drop of the wine she was sipping, then coughed and recovered. Still, when she looked at him, her eyes were wide, not to mention a little red from crying as was her nose. Yet somehow, she was still beautiful.

What was wrong with him?

James ought to rescind the offer at once He ought to pay for her to stay at the Old Ship, but a lady remaining there alone without a private bathroom or kitchen staff or even a helpful maid seemed brutish of him to force upon her.

Finally, Miss Talbot said, “Yes, I would like that very much. And I am beyond grateful.”

He didn’t need or want her gratitude. That could spell trouble with a capital K-I-S-S!

“Very well,” he said before he could change his mind. “After dinner, I’ll return to the hotel, pay your bill, and bring your things.”

“I must pack them myself. I have stuff everywhere, all over the room, stockings drying on the windowsill and a shift hanging over the chair and—”

She broke off at his expression.

“I don’t need a list of your unmentionables.” No, he didn’t because then he pictured her in only her stockings or with her shift raised to her...

“We shall go together then,” he compromised as the dessert of meringue floating in cream sauce with fresh berries arrived before each of them. “You may pay while I ... I mean, I will pay your account while you collect your things.”

Dammit! Now he was flustered like a youth about to be alone with his first female.

“I’ll wait for you in the hotel foyer,” he added.

Miss Talbot ate her dessert with her usual gusto and without any further tears, while James slowed down. He hadn’t lost his appetite exactly, but he certainly felt the weight of trepidation. She was desirable, practically irresistible. But resist, he would. He liked to think of himself as a rake with honor, and since she was putting herself in a tremendously vulnerable position through no fault of her own, he would not take advantage.

Soon, they’d settled her account to the shilling, just as she’d said, claimed her things, and were walking conspicuously back along the Marine Parade. He nodded to other couples as if it were the most natural thing in the world to stroll along carrying a carpet bag with a footman behind hoisting a trunk upon his shoulder. And Miss Talbot held only her parasol and a reticule.

“I’m so relieved,” she said.

“Yes, you’ve said that.”

In fact, she had stated it about ten times already, and he could only imagine the strain that had been firmly resting on her slender shoulders. Her brother should be shot. Her father should be shot. Her fiancé, too, should be shot. Everyone deserved a good shooting as far as he was concerned.

And this jubilant, dazzling beauty walked beside him and up the steps into his home as if she owned the place.

He looked heavenward. It was time for brandy.

’Zounds!He could hardly go off to the small study in the rented house and drink brandy alone and leave her without company in the drawing room.

“Do you like brandy?”

“Yes, I do. After the first sip,” she said.

After directing where her things were to go, avoiding Mr. Sparks gaze and pretending not to see the butler’s ever-so-slightly raised eyebrows, James ordered brandy in the drawing room and let her precede him up the stairs.

He tried to keep his eyes off her swaying rump. Really, he did!

***

GLYNNIS COULD RELAXfor the first time since arriving in Brighton. Actually, for the first time since leaving London for Bath. She reconsidered. Her tension went back farther than that. The last few weeks in London had been terribly strained, with her dodging creditors on the doorstep and shoving bills that arrived daily under the disinterested nose of her brother.

Her current situation might only be temporary, but it was a welcome respite from worry. That must be why she was feeling such tenderness for the viscount who had gone against his better judgment to allow her into his home.

It wasn’t as if she intended to stay forever!

But she gladly would, if she could.

After an evening of brandy and cards, with Hargrove behaving so gentlemanly and stiffly, not a word could be misconstrued, no action misinterpreted, and almost no fun at all, she’d gone upstairs to find someone had arranged all her things in the spacious guest room. It reminded her of happier times when she’d been able to use her pin money for actual hatpins and notions and not to keep their staff employed, those plump-in-the-pocket times when she had a lady’s maid.

Almost as soon as she had removed her shoes, there was a tap on the door.

Her heart raced in a burst of anticipation, thinking it must be—

“Miss?” came the maid’s voice.

“Come in,” Glynnis told her. “Were you the one who put away my clothes?”

“Yes, miss.” The young woman was a few years older than Glynnis, with her hair in a tidy plait that had been wound upon her crown and pinned.

“I thank you kindly. Do you work for Lord Hargrove?” For some reason, she had a hard time imagining the apple-cheeked girl in London proper.

“While his lordship is here, miss, but I come with the house.”

Glynnis thought it an odd way to put it, as if the maid were a piece of furniture.

“All the staff does, except his lordship’s valet, who arrived with him.”

“I see.” Glynnis would get no information from this one about Hargrove’s personal life back in London, nor whether he had an arrangement with any lady of the ton.

“I am here to help you undress and put on your nightgown, miss. I’ve had little work to do recently.”

Glynnis shook her head. “You can’t possibly be happy I’m here to give you work to do,” she said, even as the maid stepped forward to lift the gown over her head.

“Oh yes, miss. Brighton is a fine town, but it gets lonely here when the Prince Regent is elsewhere and the houses are all empty. And then instead of a family, Lord Hargrove showed up. Not that I’ve been lollygagging about or twiddling my thumbs,” she added, perhaps worried she would be accused of laziness.

“No, of course. I know there’s always something to do. What’s your name?”

“Polly, miss.”

They fell silent as the maid worked swiftly, and soon Glynnis was in her night-rail with her dressing gown over the top. Polly took out the hairpins, and Glynnis’s long dark-brown hair came down, some of it in braids, some loose as she’d worked a while to create the pleasing style before going to Lord Dodd’s.

Without asking, the maid undid the plaits.

“Shall I brush it, miss, and rebraid it? I set your toiletry articles upon the chest of drawers.”

“No, I’ll do it.”

“Very well, is there anything else?”

“No, Polly, I am quite self-sufficient. Thank you.”

Despite having said that, the maid retrieved the soiled gown from the chair. “I’ll get this stain out, miss.”

“Ox-gall?” Glynnis asked.

Polly wrinkled her nose. “Oh no, miss. Salt and vinegar will do the trick.”

“Thank you, Polly.” The maid couldn’t possibly know how precious each gown was to Glynnis.

“What time would you like me to awaken you?”

She was being treated like a real lady again. “Whatever time Lord Hargrove takes his breakfast, I should like to get up before and be ready.”

Polly nodded. “I’ll make sure of it, miss.”

***

BREAKFAST WITH A SINGLEman in an intimate parlor on the ground floor of a rented house in Brighton. What next? Glynnis wondered. Fairies might dance upon the tabletop, for that would be just as likely.

True to her word, Polly had awakened her from a sound sleep. After a quick wash, with her hair brushed and dressed again, and wearing a pale rose-colored day gown, Glynnis was led downstairs to the informal parlor.

When she saw Hargrove, head bowed while reading the paper, her heart gave an unexpected squeeze. She had grown so fond of him, even before this gallant rescue. Daily, she wished she hadn’t been bone-headed in London and treated him so poorly.

When he saw her, he rose to his feet.

“You look well rested,” he offered.

For his part, he looked dash-fire handsome, but she tried not to gawk.

“The bed was very comfortable, my lord, and my thoughts were at ease for the first time in a long time. I slept well indeed.”

“And now you’re hungry?” he guessed.

She smiled. “I like to start the day with a meal, although I know many do not eat until later.”

“I don’t know where you put it, Miss Talbot,” he said, drawing out the chair from the small oval table.

“My lord?” She looked up at him.

“Your portions of food,” he clarified, returning to his own chair. “You eat heartily, but you have a—”

He bit off his words.

“I have a what?”

He shook his head. “I am straying into territory I have no place going, and only because we’ve become so familiar with one another.” He rolled his eyes. “And we shouldn’t have become familiar, either.”

“Tell me what you were going to say,” she asked, pouring herself a cup of chocolate and taking a piece of toast from the small silver wrack.

“I was going to say despite your appetite, you have a ... a shapely figure.”

In the middle of buttering her toasted bread, Glynnis paused. Looking down to hide her blushing cheeks, they were not the only thing infused with heat. Knowing he thought her shapely caused a happy warmth to rush through her.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I should have considered my words before speaking.”

“That’s not necessary,” she said. “I’ve told you so much about my situation. We can be honest with one another. I have come to appreciate frankness, particularly after the past few days, being kissed by a married man and then invited to dinner by Lord Dodd.”

She helped herself to the crisp, thick bacon strips, two coddled eggs, and a large sausage, all on a platter in the center of the table.

“If I understand you, this is not your normal morning fare,” she said, thinking how preferable it was to only drinking pale tea and nibbling on a few crackers as some did.

“I asked the cook to make an especially hardy offering in your honor, knowing your penchant to being gutfoundered.”

“I’m not a knight of the trencher. You happen to have caught me a few times when I was particularly hungry. It was a coincidence.”

He smiled, not believing her. Plainly, he thought her a piggy female who liked to yam more than she ought.

“I’m pleased to be able to provide you with plenty of nourishment. Besides, in return, you’re going to help me with Prinny and make him accept all the art and allow me to return to London, remember?”

Glynnis felt a little of her contentment seep away. She’d only just found a level of security, but when the Prince Regent accepted the art and Hargrove left, she would lose it again.

Unless...

She couldn’t. Could she?