Banished to Brighton by Sydney Jane Baily

Chapter Twenty-Three

Or should the sportive Race thy fancy fill,

East of the Town, across the sunny hill,

Princes, and peers, jockey and rural swain,

All sorts and ranks, make up the motley train.

– Brighton. A Poem by Mary Lloyd, 1809

THE MURMURINGS ANDsmall cheers that arose when the prince arrived at the racecourse drew Glynnis’s attention. Although the event was crowded, she and Lord Payton were not far from the royal tent, where chairs had been set up to shade His Royal Highness.

Immediately she spotted James. While not realizing she’d been watching and waiting, her gaze fixed upon his tall, handsome figure as he strode in with the Regent and his hangers-on.

Instead of taking a seat, James distanced himself from the others and began to meander around the edge of the track.

She was well aware when James passed by. Even though she turned so he couldn’t see her fascinated glance, her skin prickled in awareness, knowing he had noticed her.

Earlier, Lord Payton had taken her for a scenic drive before they’d arrived at the track. He was good company, told interesting stories, looked at her with a warmth and vitality in his brown eyes, and with interest in her person, too.

So why did she keep thinking of James?

Knowing he was there, it was all she could do to focus on the racing. However, when Lord Payton placed a bet on a horse for her, she found it easier to focus her attention. Caught up in the excitement when people started cheering just before the finish, she welcomed her companion’s next words.

“You have won, Miss Talbot.”

“Have I?” she exclaimed. “How wonderful! Thank you!” She clapped her hands, wishing she could hug him.

“It’s just pin money,” he clarified, but beamed at her anyway as if he’d performed a heroic act.

For a brief moment, Glynnis considered whether she should take up betting to earn an income, then thought of Rhys. It was no different from her brother’s incessant gambling with cards, and ultimately, she would lose on a day when Lady Fortuna didn’t favor her.

“It’s pin money I did not have,” she said. Three more races were held on the course that had the horses galloping in one direction, only to turn and gallop back the way they came. Then there was an impressive display of hurdle-jumping, which made her hold her breath at each jump. Finally, they turned away and strolled with the crowd back toward where the carriages were parked.

Young boys had been paid to watch the horses, most of which quietly munched on the grass of the downs. Again, she found herself looking for James, and again, she found him swiftly despite the throng. Easily, she spotted his height and his gait, making his way to the prince’s carriage. However, he eschewed it and kept walking in the direction of the town.

With Lord Payton driving, they were going right past him in a two-seater “gadabout,” as Glynnis thought of the spiffy carriage. She glanced at her companion, who also looked at James but shrugged.

“No room,” Lord Payton said, looking a little too gleeful.

“Surely he can stand on the back somehow,” she suggested. “It would be rude not to offer.”

She didn’t know why she cared. After all, he’d spent the night with another woman, and she’d lain awake for hours picturing it. And all the while she knew it wasn’t her place to judge him, yet she did anyway.

They slowed down as they drew beside him.

“I say, old man,” Lord Payton began, “wouldn’t Prinny let you back in his carriage?”

James shrugged, barely looking up. “I prefer to walk.”

“Really. I’m surprised you have energy after last night.”

Glynnis nearly gasped, thinking he was commenting on James’s swiving, but then realized Lord Payton was referring to the viscount’s vast imbibing.

James glared at him. “You’re holding up the others,” he said.

Glynnis turned in her seat. A line of carriages had formed behind them.

“Miss Talbot thinks you might like to balance on the back axle, like my footman,” Lord Payton spoke up, then laughed.

James, however, didn’t crack a smile. Finally, he directed his gaze at her. “That’s kind of you, but I am satisfied with the stroll. It’s barely a mile, I think. I’ll see you back at the house?”

He’d made it a question, as if he wasn’t sure she would still be there. In truth, she wished she didn’t have to be. It would be difficult to sit across from him at dinner, impossible not to think of his strong arms wrapped around that harlot and his firm lips kissing her.

A surge of jealousy rushed through her.

Thus, she didn’t bother to answer. He would find her at his home when he returned. With nary another word, Lord Payton flicked the reins, and the matched pair trotted forward.

When Lord Payton dropped her off, he walked her to the doorstep as he had the night before and leaned close. Since carriages and pedestrians were going by behind him on the Marine Parade, she knew he wouldn’t kiss her. Still, she held her breath, waiting.

“I would like to take you on another outing,” he said. “If you’re amiable.”

She dredged up a bright smile. They could go on outings until the moon turned blue, but unless he asked her to marry him, it would do her no good. Reaching out, she touched his arm.

“Do you have a prior agreement with a lady, my lord?”

He was obviously surprised by her frankness. “No, I don’t.”

She considered. She must speak even more plainly. “Is your heart engaged elsewhere?”

His smile was genuine and reached his brown eyes. “No, I promise you. It is not.”

Her last question might put the nail to the coffin. “Are you directly set against the institution of marriage, like a rake?”

His smile faltered slightly at the word marriage, but he didn’t cower from the notion.

“I have it in mind to marry one day.”

She supposed that was as good a recommendation for continuing with Lord Payton as any.

“And may I know your Christian name?”

“Yes, of course. It’s Rufus,” he said tentatively, which she thought rather sweet of him.

“Rufus,” she echoed. “A nice name. Mine is Glynnis.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“If I haven’t scared you off with my boldness, then yes, I will accept your invitation.”

“Quite the contrary, I like how frank you are, without stooping to games or coyness.”

Regret lanced her sharply. If only she’d attempted some measure of frankness with James back in London...

“I have work to do tomorrow on the Prince Regent’s behalf, but I will gladly escort you to the assembly. I believe it’s in your old place of residence.”

She’d forgotten the next dance was at the Old Ship. Prince George liked variety, and thus, held parties alternately at each of the large venues in Brighton.

“Indeed, you are correct,” she said.

The assembly room at the Old Ship rivaled that of the Castle Hotel. She’d wandered through it when exploring on her first day in Brighton before the crowd from London had arrived.

“Good.” Like a gentleman, he took her gloved hand and bowed over it. “I’ll be here promptly at eight o’clock.”

They’d been talking so long that, when he turned to leave, James strolled the last few paces to his own front door. He was scowling at the two of them, yet Glynnis still thought him exceedingly handsome in a Gothic way. And while she preferred his easy smile, she no longer cared to invoke it.

“Hargrove,” Lord Payton said with a friendly nod of his head, even walloping him on the shoulder.

“Payton,” James returned, only slightly less friendly, watching him walk away.

“Miss Talbot,” he greeted, then reached around her — making her suck in her breath — but all he did was push open the front door, then gesture for her to precede him.

With a last glance at the man she hoped would be her future, Glynnis went inside.

***

WHEN SHE IMMEDIATELYclimbed the stairs with James trailing behind, he could stand the awkward silence no longer.

“Please, Glynnis, won’t you have a drink with me?”

She continued to the top, then paused but didn’t turn her head.

“I’ve been out for hours, and I feel dusty from head to toe. I was going to change for dinner.” Then she finally looked at him, and when her brown gaze skittered towards his, he felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut by the disappointment he saw.

“Moreover, I think you had enough to drink last night that you needn’t bother again for a week.” Her voice was tart. “Do you even remember?”

James ran a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t so foxed I don’t remember. It was a party, and I was having fun.”

“It did seem you had plenty of amusement,” she agreed before turning away.

“Dinner is hours away,” he tried again. “Surely, you’re hungry.” He was famished for her company. And even though they’d last kissed just the night before, he was hungry for her touch. Even a friendly brush of her fingers as she slapped his sorry face would do.

She sighed. “I am a little peckish, and I would love a cup of tea.”

With that proclamation, she changed direction and entered the upstairs formal drawing room. James thanked his good luck for the demands of her stomach and followed.

Plopping down upon the sofa, she removed her hat and gloves. Such intimacies! Quickly, he yanked the bell pull and gave their request to the housemaid who appeared.

Then they returned to the silence he didn’t care for, so he broke it.

“Did you enjoy the races?”

“I did,” she said. “Lord Payton placed a bet for me, and my horse won.”

Blasted Payton! “That’s wonderful. You’re no longer completely out of blunt.”

She pursed her lips. “There’s not enough for a hotel room if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No,” he said at once. “I wasn’t thinking of you moving out at all.” God no! She had become the only joy in Brighton. “I’ve come to appreciate our arrangement.”

“Whatever can you mean?” she demanded.

Why was she being so prickly over everything?

“I simply mean it’s nice knowing I’ll have company at the meals and someone with whom to take a stroll. I missed you at breakfast.”

That seemed to infuriate her, and he thought she was going to get up and walk out, but she remained where she was, making some sort of fizzing noise, like an angry bee. James was most glad when the maid reappeared with the tea tray and large slices of golden sponge slathered in raspberry sauce. If that didn’t win her back, nothing would.

Slightly mollified, Glynnis leaned forward and poured them both tea, and he knew he should be grateful she didn’t toss it in his face. After stirring in her sugar and taking a sip, all of which fascinated him as never before, she set down the cup and saucer before helping herself to one of the plates of cake.

With the silver fork, she took a goodly sized bite, seeming to relish the very first morsel of sponge cake.

“Mm,”she murmured approvingly, and her gaze, appearing more friendly, finally returned to him. “The cook here knows her business.”

For his part, James couldn’t speak nor even swallow. A small smudge of raspberry glaze remained on her perfect upper lip, and he waited to see her rescue it.

However, when her pink tongue did make an appearance, she merely licked the crumbs off her lower lip, and he groaned before he could stop himself.

Again, her eyes locked with his. She said nothing, merely continuing to eat. Finally, when he’d stared at her for a full minute and through her consuming half her piece of sponge, she spoke again.

“Aren’t you going to taste it? It’s divine.”

Nodding, he picked up the other plate and forked in a bite. Somewhere in his lusty brain he knew it was delicious, but it might as well have been horse feed.

Then he raised his tea to his mouth and drank it down without milk and sugar, just the way he hated it, all the while obsessed over whether the tip of her tongue would make an appearance. Would its velvety tip stroke her upper lip?

Finally, when she set her empty plate down and wiped the corners of her exquisite mouth while leaving the bead of sauce behind, he had to act. Leaning forward across the narrow low table between them, James reached for her.

She froze. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just...,” he trailed off while leaning closer.

She pressed her head into the high-backed sofa.

“Your lip,” he explained softly.

With a final stretch, he managed to wipe off the luscious red sauce from her even more luscious upper lip before losing his balance and falling onto the table, upsetting the tray and the dishes — and the hot tea! — under him.

Worse, he had to brace himself by his outstretched arms on either side of her thighs, with his head landing most fortuitously in her warm lap.

“James!” she shrieked.

“Glynnis,” he said onto her thighs, hoping he could catch her womanly scent before he did the only gentlemanly thing he could do. Pressing himself up and away from her, most ungracefully, he floundered a second on the table before managing to return to his seat.

Too late!He had tea and raspberry stains from his chest to his lap. He’d also knocked the teapot to the floor where the handle had broken, creating a brown stain on the rug, and he’d smashed one cup and saucer to pieces.

“What under God’s heaven has come over you?” she asked, eyes wide while her hands brushed at her lap as if she could still feel him there. “You don’t own any of this, do you? You’ll be charged extra for the dishes and for cleaning the rug.”

He had to smile at her worry over his finances.

“It was worth it.” He held up his right hand and then stuck up his thumb in triumph. Upon the pad was the smear of raspberry sauce, which he now licked clean, feeling like a lion after it had hunted.

He was losing his mind!

And clearly, Glynnis Talbot thought so, too. She gawked at him, from the hand still hovering near his mouth to his soiled clothing.

“Have you been drinking?” she asked.

“I assure you, I haven’t. Not a drop since last night.”

“Then what has got into you?” she demanded.

“You,” he said truthfully and with utter abandon for propriety.

“Me?” Her lovely brown eyes grew larger. And then her cheeks went red, not with a delightful blush, but if he were to guess, he would say with anger.

Her next words, spoken harshly, proved him correct.

“I think you’re merry about the gills from swiving last night. Your entire temperament has changed. I’ve read that sexual release is good for a man, curing him of nervous tension and soothing his violent tendencies. But I didn’t know it caused near insanity. You sent my breakfast up to me, as if I were yours to care for. And now you lunge into my lap like a ... like a cock-a-whoop lad!”

His mouth had dropped open during her tirade. He snapped it closed when she finished.

“Being considerate with a breakfast tray is hardly madness,” he pointed out, not liking the warm tea-soggy areas he could feel. “Are you saying I should have let you starve this morning because you were too stubborn to come downstairs and be civilized?”

“Civilized!” She rose to her feet, and he quickly did the same. “Is it civilized to stagger off with a whore, letting everyone know your business?” She was seething now, and he had a good view of her lovely breasts rising and falling.

“Besides, the Lord Hargrove I know, who didn’t even pay for his own sandwiches, certainly wouldn’t have considerately sent up a breakfast tray, not unless you were feeling tip-top satisfied and fine as five pence. And I attribute such a mood to your recent sexual conquest.”

She was being unfair. He’d already apologized for not paying the bill in the teahouse. Yet before he could defend himself, she raged on.

“I suppose the word conquest gives you too much credit since you paid the trollop. It’s not as if you had to win her over, or that she had any choice in the matter.”

In high dander, Glynnis took a few steps away from the scene of destroyed crockery and toward the door.

“Next time you want to put your face in a woman’s lap, I suggest you go back to the Steyne and find your blonde blowsabella!”

She stomped from the room.