Banished to Brighton by Sydney Jane Baily

Chapter Twenty

Or let thine eye with pleas’d attention roam,

To where the Royal Stables rear their dome.

Majestic edifice, with graceful pride,

Towering above each structure by its side.

– Brighton. A Poem by Mary Lloyd, 1809

THEY WENT UP THE STEYNE, past the Pavilion and took a left onto Church Street. James wondered if Prinny were watching, but he was probably resting for the evening’s assembly. The prince was hampered by the modest size of his Brighton home, which was why the Castle Hotel’s assembly rooms had come in so handy and why Prinny intended to take it over and expand his Pavilion to far larger proportions.

Also, with Nash’s help, it would better match the more fanciful, oriental style of the stables. After all, the stables were nearly bigger than the main house, and the prince’s horses lived better than he did — or at least, that was the joke among the townspeople, as James heard in the tavern on his first night.

In fact, all talk was of the prince’s expansion plans and its great cost.

“I can see the preparations are underway for tonight,” Miss Talbot pointed with her parasol across the extensive lawn.

Given the fine weather, the Regent’s party would be held entirely outside on the west grounds of the Pavilion, with lanterns and tables, musicians, and even a makeshift dance floor.

White tents had been raised and servants were scurrying in and out. The First Yeoman of Confectionery, the Clerk Comptroller of the Kitchen, the Head Table Decker, and many more would be bringing their expertise outdoors to make everything run smoothly.

It was a rehearsal for the main play, the masquerade ball that would be the Prince Regent’s birthday party the following week. James had hoped to be back in London by then, but now, he simply didn’t know.

“The stables seem to be as busy as the Pavilion,” his companion pointed out, and he wrenched his attention back from the night’s impending party to where people were milling around the doorways of the largest stables James had ever known.

“Prinny has a passion for horses. Here, unlike in London, he had room to build the stables of his dreams.”

“Of any pampered horse’s dream, by the look of it,” Miss Talbot said upon entering the large roundhouse.

“If one had to be a horse,” James agreed, “this would be the place.”

Both speechless, they walked to the center of the massive circular building where grooms were leading some horses out to the open courtyard through one archway and some to the rectangular Riding House for exercise through another while other horses were being brought back inside.

But before one could examine anything at eye level, one felt compelled to look up, drawn by the rays of light streaming down onto the dirt-covered brick floor. Although James had seen the massive dome before, he whistled at the sight of it rising above them.

“I thought the outside was spectacular,” Miss Talbot remarked, referring to the building’s oriental-inspired exterior design, “but in here, it’s as grand as Saint Paul’s Cathedral.”

Her head was tilted back, giving him a glorious view of her pale, arched neck as she stared up at the many-windowed cupola through which cheery sunbeams entered.

“I had the royal tour a couple years back when it was first completed,” James told her. “Ask me anything.”

“The dimensions, I suppose, would be my first question.”

“Really? I thought you would ask me about the cost.”

“I’m not always concerned about money,” she said. “But tell me what it cost.”

“Over fifty thousand pounds!”

She clutched at her bosom, drawing James’s gaze to the swell of her breasts.

“It almost bankrupt Prinny at the time,” he added. “His father had to appeal to Parliament to clear the debts.”

“If only my brother could do the same,” she mused.

“If your brother were going to rule England one day as king, then I suppose he could.” James looked up. “The structure took five years to build and from where we’re standing to the top of the dome, it’s sixty-five feet high.”

“I said it was like a cathedral, and I was right.”

He nodded. “Instead of pews, there are sixty-one stalls, twenty-three for coach horses and thirty-eight for all the other saddle horses, including the prince’s prized hunters.”

“How can you recall all that?”

James shrugged. “I have a decent memory, and Prinny made me look into practically every stall.”

And then Miss Talbot did a slow turn to take in the size of the roundhouse.

“Each horse has its own room,” she said, sounding amazed.

“Stall,” he corrected.

“Those are not like any stalls I’ve ever seen. They have proper doors and windows.”

He laughed. “You’re right. I had never seen anything like it either. The horses at my family’s estate near Lambourn would think themselves in a pigpen by comparison.”

“If your horses were thinking, my lord,” she teased.

“True,” he agreed, and desperately wanted to kiss her because of the jaunty tilt to her head. Instead, he pressed on with his tour. “There are lodgings for grooms and stable boys on the upper floor,” he gestured to the circle of windows on the second floor. “And elsewhere on the premises, there are coach houses, an engine house, forge and farrier, and, of course, harness rooms. Prinny stables are a completely self-contained palace for horses. And some say the whole thing looks an awful lot like the Paris Corn Exchange, but I’m not sure anyone would tell the Prince Regent such a thing. Not to his face.”

“And does it look like a corn exchange?” she asked as they walked toward the Riding House.

“This is far lovelier. I suppose the dome is the only real similarity. Prinny’s is a foot higher, by the way.”

“Naturally. The builder knew with whom he was dealing.”

“You are exactly correct, Miss Talbot.” Then he leaned closer, caught the scent of her floral perfume, and said, “Somewhere hereabouts, there’s a secret tunnel that leads to the northern end of the Pavilion.”

“Where?” she asked, looking around as if there would be a sign.

He laughed. “I told you, it’s a secret. I know of it, but not where the passage begins or ends.”

“I heard a rumor,” she said, “the tunnel was not anywhere near here but connected the main house to that of Mrs. Fitzherbert.”

“Poppycock!” James said.

They strolled through the arched opening into the Riding House.

“This is magnificent, too,” she said.

Instead of a dome, it had a gracefully arched roof buoyed by buttresses.

“What’s holding it up?” she asked.

“The prince’s determination,” he joked. “It’s impressive, isn’t it? One never sees such a large unsupported roof. Some said it would fall when the scaffolding was removed. Obviously it hasn’t.”

They stood to the side, out of the way, and watched riders putting horses through their paces, taking the jumps that were set up with ease and grace. And then one performed a perfect jump over the cross rails, galloped to the end, and turned, before trotting slowly toward them.

“Payton,” James hailed the familiar figure.

He dismounted. “Hargrove,” Payton said by way of greeting before turning to Miss Talbot. “We haven’t been formally introduced, but you must be Miss Talbot. Do you plan on riding today?”

James noticed her cheeks infuse with a pleasant pink and also didn’t miss his friend’s curiosity at seeing them together. Moreover, Payton could very well see for himself they weren’t planning on riding by their clothing, unless he was asking something quite different altogether.

“Miss Talbot had never seen the stables.”

“It’s an amazing place,” she spoke up. “And you are a wonderful rider, Lord Payton. Will you be at the party tonight?”

“If only to see you,” he said with full-blown flattery.

James rolled his eyes. “Come along, Miss Talbot. With your kind words, Payton’s head will grow too big for his hat.”

Payton laughed, giving James a knowing look.

Dammit all if his friend didn’t think him jealous!

After Payton took his leave, they passed through the doorway at the other end of the Riding House and into the open courtyard, also owned by the prince. From there, they exited back onto Church Street.

“A lovely outing,” Miss Talbot declared. “Do you think there is somewhere we can get any fruity ice or ice cream? Somewhere like Gunter’s? Besides the prince’s kitchen, I mean. Or even a glass of lemonade.”

She twirled her parasol and looked beyond fetching. James was starting to think he might have to have a word with her about the future and her fiancé and whether she might see her way clear to fall in love with a rake who was willing to reform and become devoted.

After all, he’d had his fun — as much as any man and more so. Back in London was his comfortable house, ready for a family. Also back in London was his mistress, ready for anything, but he couldn’t work up too much enthusiasm over returning to her, not when he was holding Miss Talbot’s arm.

“Glynnis Talbot,” he said, feeling her startle beside him.

She said nothing for a moment, and then, “Yes?”

“Nothing at all. I was just trying out the sound of your name. It’s a strong yet pretty name. It suits you.”

“Thank you. I didn’t think you even knew my Christian name.”

He chuckled. “After our first meeting, I asked our host who you were, including your name.”

“I see.”

He waited. Did she know his name? Perhaps she didn’t care. He had to remind himself she had tried to trap more than one man during the Season.

“I know your name, too,” she said after a few steps. “James Lambert. It is a strong name, yet not at all pretty.”

He liked hearing her say it, too.

“Let’s go through the Lanes,” he suggested. “We’ll find ice cream and lemonade, I believe.”

Indeed they did. And James hadn’t never had such a fine time doing nothing before. They looked in shop windows, spoke prittle-prattle, and laughed a great deal. And he found himself looking forward to escorting Glynnis to Prinny’s garden assembly.

“Isn’t it strange to be walking back to the same house to get ready for the party?” she remarked later.

“It is,” he agreed, and when they were back at his house, he found it difficult to part with her.

She, however, was gleeful to dash upstairs. “Your maid is most helpful. I am sure she will make me look my best for tonight.”

“You already look your best,” he said, despite her having gone too far to hear him.

Glynnis Talbot . . . Glynnis Lambert. Viscountess Hargrove. Hm!

***

A PERFECT DAY, SHEdecided. And there would be more because Glynnis had made sure the Prince Regent didn’t give the pieces of art a second look. Hargrove wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Biting her lip, she had the decency to feel terribly guilty. Poor James!

She liked the name immensely. He hadn’t exactly given her leave to use it, nor would she when she recalled how revoltingly forward and intimate Isabelle had sounded.

But she could think of him that way, while continuing to call him Hargrove to his face, the same way his friends did, including that dashing Lord Payton. The man sat a horse well and had a nice way about him. Although he couldn’t hold a candle to James.

Sighing, she wished she could stop comparing other men to the viscount.

Poor James indeed!She’d done him a terrible disservice. Sadly, it had been necessary to keep a roof over her head. However, if Lord Payton turned out to be a potential husband and she fell under his protection, then she would do her best to convince the Regent he must enjoy every piece James had brought over from Paris. What’s more, she would be as convincing as her fellow Welsh-born woman, the famed actress Sarah Siddons.

After Glynnis gave herself a scrub down in the tiled bathing room, Polly helped her into a clean gown and dressed her hair. Tonight, she was determined to conquer Lord Payton.

Descending the stairs, she faltered. Hargrove had beaten her to the ready. She nearly blurted out how attractive he appeared in his cream-colored breeches, blue silk waistcoat, and darker blue coat, but managed to snap her teeth closed on the words.

He must admire her first. And he did. She could see it in his glittering eyes.

“Miss Talbot, you have outdone yourself.”

She tried not to look as pleased as she felt. “I’m sure it’s all Polly’s doing.”

He shook his head. “Who on earth is Polly?”

“Your maid, of course.”

“Not really my maid,” he said. “She came with the place, you know. I’m glad she finally has something to do since she is paid weekly with all the staff.”

“A few shillings,” she teased.

He smiled. “You may say it’s Polly who’s given you quite the shine, but you’re a well-rigged frigate without any help from anyone.”

Their gazes caught, and she would have welcomed him drawing closer and kissing her.

Instead, Glynnis let him take the lightweight shawl from her hands and turned as he directed until her back was to him. When he draped the silk across her shoulders, she shivered at the touch of his fingers, which remained for the briefest moment on her upper arms.

Facing him once more, she considered how intimate their living arrangement was — for he hadn’t yet donned his evening gloves.

Taking a pair from the hallstand, he drew each on with a quick tug. She swallowed. It was easily one of the most enticing things she’d ever seen, and her insides fluttered. What would it be like to be in his bedchamber when he was dressing? To see his bare throat before his cravat was tied? Gracious!

“Is something amiss?” he asked.

She had been staring shamelessly at his hands, imagining them upon her body. Daring to glance at his face, she seemed to get caught by the sight of his attractive mouth.

“Nothing,” she said, licking her lips. “Just ... nothing.”

When she dragged her glance to his blue eyes, she saw a spark flare to life that matched the heat curling inside her, low in her body.

“Miss Talbot,” he began. Then he cut himself off, gave a shrug of surrender, and drew her toward him.

“May I kiss you?”