Banished to Brighton by Sydney Jane Baily

Chapter Twenty-One

Glynnis swallowed,unable to believe James was asking such a question. Nor could she fathom why he bothered instead of taking what they both evidently wanted. Perhaps he was testing her.

Should she say no and prove herself an upstanding lady? Should she say yes so he understood how greatly she desired him?

James’s eyes narrowed slightly. Maybe he, too, was weighing the ramifications.

In the end, she couldn’t help herself. Glynnis gave the slightest of nods, and he swooped in as if he’d been barely restraining himself.

She was thankful he didn’t sink his fingers into her hair, for she would hate to have to go to Polly in disarray before she’d even made it out the door. But he did wrap his hands around her waist and anchor her to him. She closed her eyes in anticipation.

He claimed her mouth, melding their lips into a perfect seal of desire. Her hunger for him grew until she had to steal her arms around his neck, dragging her reticule up his chest as she did. Heat sizzled through her as she tasted him, mint tooth powders and a before-the-gathering glass of brandy, and sniffed his familiar scent of sandalwood and bergamot.

This was passion. This was heaven. This was ... impossible!The only thing such a rake of a viscount would offer was a delightful tupping or maybe a position as his mistress, for he adamantly didn’t wish to be married.

By the time he pulled back and she slowly opened her eyes, her heart was pounding and her head felt light. If he suggested not going to the lawn party but going upstairs to his bedroom instead, she would agree.

And it wasn’t mere lust, although she recognized that to be a component of the mixed emotions swirling through her. But she knew her heart, and it had become well and truly attached to this man.

She drew her hands from him, and they stared at one another, breathing hard.

“I’m sorry I tried to trap you,” she blurted before she could change her mind.

His eyes widened briefly, then he nodded, which she took as an acceptance.

“I am almost sorry it didn’t work,” James confessed. Then he broke the mood with a wide grin. “Shall we go and partake of Prinny’s delights?”

A part of her wished he had decided to partake of her delights instead, but she was also grateful he wasn’t treating her in a shabby fashion, like one of the Cyprian’s at the prince’s parties. If they’d given in to desire and James had taken her upstairs, everything would have changed. She could no longer claim the status of a virginal lady, making it that much harder if not impossible to gain a husband. Besides, she was loath to lose the viscount’s respect.

In silent companionship, both of them seemingly deep in thought, they walked to the Pavilion. Glynnis made a point not to glance at Lord Dodd’s house on the Steyne and hoped he wouldn’t be at the party, nor Isabelle Montrose. She couldn’t forget what she’d seen or the vulgar way they’d handled her untimely interruption.

On the other hand, if they felt the passion she felt for James, then she couldn’t really cast shade upon their choice to succumb. It was only how basely and casually they treated the act of amorous congress that shocked her — that and seeing Isabelle’s bouncing breasts.

Besides, if she and James were to make love, she could not imagine happily handing him off to the next woman a minute later. She would want to scratch out the eyes of any female who tried to take him from her. Thus, whatever she’d seen in Lord Dodd’s drawing room, she was firmly of the belief it wasn’t love.

Love!That word came to mind to describe her warm feelings for the man next to her.

“Don’t think about them,” James interrupted her thoughts. “Dodd won’t approach you unless you invite his attentions. And if he does, I’ll deal with him.”

Lord Hargrove, her protector again!

Taking a left onto North Street, they entered the back “pleasure garden,” as the Prince Regent called it, through the south gate. Musicians who had been placed near the orangery, were already playing a lovely tune, “Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill,” purported to be a favorite of not only the prince but his father, too.

From earlier in the day when she and James had gone to the northwest end of the lawn, great changes had been undertaken.

Large canvas tents with hanging lanterns strung between met their eyes, reminding Glynnis of the fancifully lit gardens of Vauxhall. Boards had been put out over the grass, creating a crude but level platform for country dancing.

“No waltzing tonight,” James quipped. “Impossible to glide smoothly on that.”

“I think it’s marvelous,” Glynnis declared. “Dancing outside under the stars — what a treat!”

“And under the tents shall be enough nourishment even for you, I would warrant.”

She rolled her eyes, but then she thought about it.

“Actually, my lord, I am a little peckish now. Do you think there are hors d’oeuvres set out already?”

He let out a great guffaw at her admittance of an appetite, but she didn’t mind.

“I’m sure Prinny will have food and drink available all evening,” he promised. “Let’s get a little of both, shall we?”

Glynnis was glad James was in such good humor, especially after she’d sabotaged his dispersion of the works of art. Approaching the first tent, they removed their gloves — James tucking his into his pocket and Glynnis rolling hers and sliding them into her reticule. Each took a glass of champagne in one hand and a small fish tartlet in the other, easily eaten in two bites.

“There’s Miss Talbot,” the Prince Regent declared, gesturing with his hand for her to approach. The small group who surrounded him melted away.

She curtsied and rose to see him smiling.

“I thank you for inviting me, Your Highness.”

“And I thank you for bringing your lovely countenance. I shall even forgive you for bringing Hargrove.”

But his expression belied his words, and he smiled at the viscount. “I’ve had a very good day today, Hargrove, and thus, you may bring me more of your ugly art. Although none of it will suit the redesigning of my Royal Pavilion, I may keep everything you showed me today and send it all to London.”

“To Carlton House, sir?” James asked.

“God, no! I might send it to Buckingham House as a gift to my parents.” The prince drained the champagne he was holding and then handed the empty glass unceremoniously to James.

“I shall see you on the dance floor, Miss Talbot. Isn’t it a clever idea?” Then Prince George turned away to welcome other guests.

James set the glass down on a nearby table.

“He is our future king,” he muttered quietly, not to her but to the world in general.

Glynnis smiled. Prince George seemed a mercurial fellow to lead a nation, but since she’d never met King George, she had no way of knowing whether they were all so spirited and somewhat silly.

“In any case, do you feel more at ease?” she asked her companion. For her part, she didn’t. If the prince said he wanted the art, then he also might dismiss her new landlord, setting him free to leave for London.

“Do I feel better because he stated at the beginning of a long night of drinking that he will take the art off my hands?” He shrugged. “Quite possibly by tomorrow, he will have lost his good humor over whatever cheered him today, or he will simply forget entirely about his promise. Regardless, I will show up with the blasted stuff tomorrow and hope for the best.”

Glynnis was about to remind him she wished to accompany him when she saw Lord Payton enter alone through the south gate.

“There’s your friend.”

James waved him over, but before the man could arrive, she asked, “Is Lord Payton a bachelor?”

She would swear she saw James stiffen, or at least stand a little taller with rigidity.

“Yes.” He fixed her with his blue eyes that had recently flecked darkly with desire for her. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason really. I don’t recall him in London during the Season, thus I assumed he was a happily married man staying out of the ballrooms.”

James nodded. By that time, Lord Payton had reached them and greeted them both.

“Champagne for everyone. My treat,” he said, snagging a glass from a passing servant’s tray.

They all laughed.

“Are you starting to see the charm of Brighton?” Lord Payton asked his friend.

James glanced sideways at her, and she felt her cheeks grow warm at his obvious interest.

Lord Payton coughed. “I meant outdoor parties in the zingy salty air,” he clarified. “Prinny has brought the entire indoors out with the dance floor and musicians.”

“It is a lovely idea,” Glynnis spoke up, determined to get the man’s attention. Probably, if he was a friend of the viscount’s, he was of similar ilk, a certain degree of wealth, too. And as she now knew him to be unmarried, she intended to go after him full tilt like a knight errant. “Do you enjoy dancing, my lord?”

“I do, and I will announce now that we shall have the first dance unless this lout or the prince has already claimed it.”

“No, indeed,” she said. “Neither have claimed the first. I look forward to it.” And because she knew the best thing was a little mystery, and also to avoid any strange looks from James, she added, “I am going to take a look at the aviary. I’ll see you gentleman anon.” That gave neither of them permission to join her.

Instead, she picked up another glass of champagne and another tartlet and sauntered toward the two-story bird enclosure on the other side of the garden.

***

JAMES KNEW HIS FRIENDwas going to make a comment.

“Miss Talbot is a rum mort if I ever saw one,” Payton remarked as soon as she was out of earshot. “Are you going to add the minx to your list of your amorous conquests?”

James followed her with his eyes, making sure Dodd was nowhere near, but he answered.

“I am not.” He hoped his tone put an end to the discussion of Miss Talbot.

“Whyever not? I’ve seen you with her on two occasions. Has she rejected your advances?”

“No, it’s not that.” Why had he kissed her again that evening? He hated to think it was merely because he had the opportunity, simply because she’d been standing in his foyer looking so lovely. After all, he didn’t want to take up with her, so why was he tormenting himself. Moreover, why was he teasing her?

And again, he couldn’t help wondering why she didn’t rebuff him when her fiancé was on his merry way. In his gut, James feared it was because she was willing to cuckold the poor fellow.

“I’m watching over her as instructed by Prinny. The more I can obey our regent, the sooner I get home.”

“Is that really all it is?” Payton asked.

James nodded.

“Then you don’t mind if I dance with her and perhaps keep a little company with such a beautiful woman?” Payton asked.

“She’s engaged,” James reminded him, wanting to warn Payton off as much as he had Leilton or Cumberry and now Dodd, too. “You don’t wish to get in the middle of that, do you?”

“No,” his friend said. Nonetheless, he was looking where Glynnis was foolishly sticking a finger into the aviary.

She would be lucky if it wasn’t pecked off. And James hadn’t found her to be the luckiest person he’d ever met.

“Look at her,” he said. “Like a child. I bet she would stick her hand out to pet a lion at the Paris menagerie, too.” He took a step forward, but Payton put a hand on his arm.

“I’ll go. I know what some of the birds are. Prinny told me in the spring when he appropriated them. That aviary is almost as nice for the feathered members of the royal household as the stables are for the equines.”

With that, James was left alone while Payton strode off toward Glynnis.

His gut twisted uncomfortably, and it wasn’t from the fish tart. He hated to admit it but he was already feeling horn mad over Glynnis’s fiancé, and the man wasn’t even around. And now he was going to have to deal with Payton making advances upon her.

In the end, however, she was not truly his responsibility. Thus, if she welcomed Payton, so be it. James snatched up another glass of champagne and downed it.

Luckily, Prinny had made sure to invite the same band of Cyprians, and James was soon talking to the blonde who’d caught his eye previously. Of course, there were other single ladies there besides Glynnis, but courtesans we far easier to deal with. They didn’t manage to worm their way into one’s head and heart, nor did they evoke protective feelings. The only thing he wanted to do with this rouge-cheeked woman was swive her soundly.

Except he would rather be talking to Glynnis.

Each time he glanced around the vast garden, she was chatting and laughing with the Prince Regent or with Payton or some other man — never with a woman.

What a flirt! James felt sorry for Aberavon.

When the dancing started, Glynnis partnered with Payton for the long opening cotillion. James didn’t bother approaching her for the second dance. After all, in the end, she would be going home upon his arm at one or two in the morning.

As the evening progressed, he realized he was drinking too much, and enjoyed himself while doing so. He had finally decided to let go of the worry over the art and accept the far-fetched notion that all would be plummy in the end.

What choice did he have?He might as well stop fighting and enjoy Brighton for the time remaining. He would attend the horse-races and then Prinny’s birthday party, and after that, one way or the other, he would get home to London.

Accepting another glass of wine from a passing servant, he made note of where Glynnis was, and then downed another. By the last dance, when he finally partnered with her, he thought the floor was moving like a ship’s deck.

“You have had fun tonight,” he said as they moved down the row between the other couples.

“You’re shouting,” she replied, and her brow furrowed when she looked at him. Then when he staggered and nearly tripped over some man’s feet, she grabbed his arm to yank him back into the center to finish the promenade. “You look flushed. Are you well?”

James scowled and turned away to take his place at the end of the row opposite her. When the rest of the dancers had moved through and taken their places, he met her in the center and touched palms. Fervently, he wished her hand was bare, but they’d all put their gloves back on after the midnight meal.

Glancing at the motley group of toadies and harlots, James rolled his eyes. As if gloves would reinstate utmost civility to the pagan outdoor gathering!

Finally recalling she’d asked him a question, he tried to moderate his tone. “I am well.”

For her part, she was practically glowing with happiness. Well fed, dancing with every man, her head having been close to Payton in some secret chat — why wouldn’t she be happy? She was in her element.

James scowled again.

“Have you enjoyed the party?” she asked.

Of course she wouldn’t know whether he had or not seeing how she’d barely given him a glance and had been partnered with his friend at the sit-down meal under one of the two large tents.

“I have,” he declared although he would have enjoyed it more had they been keeping company. “Not as much as you, I warrant. You’ve been quite the gadfly tonight. Let’s hope you’re not arranging for another encounter like the one with Dodd.”

The thought of walking in on such a scene of sofa-swiving suddenly struck him as incredibly amusing, and he laughed.

But Glynnis didn’t even crack a smile. Her cheeks flamed, and she glanced around her, probably to make sure no one had heard.

Pursing her lips, she said nothing as they finished the dance. Everyone clapped when Prinny made a final promenade between the rows of dancers. And then they were dismissed.

To his amazement, Glynnis walked toward Payton, and then Payton came over to him.

“Are you in your cups, old man?”

“No!” James peered past his friend to Glynnis who looked downright dour.

Payton put a hand on his shoulder. “It seems you’ve been a bit of a guzzle guts tonight.”

James jerked his shoulder out from under his friend’s grip. “Ridiculous,” he said, feeling tired.

Marching over to Glynnis, he said, “Shall we go?” And he offered her his arm.

She didn’t take it. Instead, she looked to Payton with an uncertainty that gutted him.

“Take it,” James said quietly, having never in his life felt the humiliation of a woman not wanting to be on his arm.

She shook her head. “Lord Payton will walk with us.”

Fury raced through him. Was he to have a nursemaid?

“You will take my arm, or you will not return to my home.”