Banished to Brighton by Sydney Jane Baily

Chapter Twenty-Four

Glynnis thought herheart would break, but then realized it already had. That was the ache she’d felt since watching James leave the party the night before. It was one thing to know the man was a rake, another to watch him at his loathsome act of debauchery.

Wringing her hands, she paced her room, trying to console herself with knowing Lord Rufus Payton was already forming an attachment to her. He would escort her to the party the following evening. She merely had to get through the rest of today and tomorrow without clobbering the sloppy smile off James’s satisfied face.

If he were to wear the same after making love to her, she would be over the moon.

Sighing, she sat on the end of the bed.

Rufus Payton was an earl’s second son with a title passed down from his mother’s father, as she’d found out during their carriage ride before the races. He was unpretentious, clever, didn’t mind working on behalf of the Prince Regent, and was enjoying his post in Brighton. Instead of being grumpy as James had been, he was making the best of it.

After all, Brighton was lovely with cool sea breezes and the scent of saltwater and ... an infernal painted whore on every street corner!

Tossing herself backward onto the soft mattress, Glynnis groaned. She had to stop thinking of the blonde woman who’d eased James’s tension, had to stop imagining them together. But entirely unbidden came the picture of the blowsabella in place of Isabelle, her naked breasts jutting forth with James under her rather than Lord Dodd.

“Argh!”Glynnis put her arm over her eyes. She wanted it to be her! She wanted to experience the pleasures of a man and woman with James Lambert. Merely thinking of the act — of him under her or over her or beside her if that was possible — made her wretchedly hot.

Blast the man! He’d ruined everything by flaunting his raffish nature in her face, but she would salvage what she could, even if her heart was shattered.

***

GLYNNIS WAS PROUD OFherself. For the better part of twenty-four hours, she had managed to keep frigidly calm each time she was in James’s presence, avoiding both anger and tears. She’d shown up for dinner, noticing he had changed out of his tea and sponge-stained clothing. They’d eaten in strained silence, and then she’d retired early. He had not attempted to stop her.

That morning, she’d gone downstairs to breakfast, thanking him for the meal again, before quietly reading the newspapers she found stacked on the parlor table. He did the same.

She missed the former friendliness but couldn’t trust herself to speak beyond the niceties lest she either beg him to reconsider the traditional institute of marriage or reprimand him for his lifestyle.

For his part, James no longer joked or teased with her, but tread on eggshells, as the saying went.

Finally, it was the appointed time for Lord Payton to collect her. Glynnis waited in her room, not wanting to encounter James again. She didn’t even know whether he was attending. Listening intently for her escort’s arrival, she hurried down the stairs as soon as Lord Payton entered the foyer.

“Has anyone ever told you what a prime lady you are?” he asked when he spied her.

“No, I don’t believe so. At least none so dashing as yourself have ever done so.”

Although he hesitated, looking past her, perhaps for his friend, she already had her gloves on and her shawl in hand.

Offering it to him, she turned her back and waited. When he draped it across her shoulders, she felt . . . nothing.

Nothing that sizzled at any rate, but also no feelings of revulsion. Contentment at going out with Lord Payton was enough. Far better than the emotional turmoil of every moment with James.

“Slippers?” he asked.

“Drat!” she exclaimed. “Thank you for reminding me. I am terribly sorry for the delay, my lord, but I left them in my room.”

“It is no matter. The party won’t be complete until we’re there.” Then he winked, setting her at ease, and she dashed back up the stairs.

On the landing, she spied James coming out of his room, every bit the rum duke cutting a flash figure, and she cursed her own buffleheadedness at having to see him. So eager to get away without an unpleasant scene, she’d actually caused it by her nervous hurrying.

Halting, he stared. She kept on moving toward her bedroom door. As she passed him, she caught the faint scent of his cologne, and it made her knees weak, taking her instantly back to when he stood between her thighs.

In another moment, she’d snatched her slippers from where she’d carefully laid them out and forgotten them. Turning, he was in her doorway.

“I thought you’d already left, you were so quiet in here.”

“Lord Payton is downstairs. I mustn’t keep him waiting,” and she headed straight for him. He must move out of her way.

But he didn’t. Filling the space between the doorframe, James was a dashing devil in a rich blue jacket and waistcoat, with the brightest of white cravats and pale gray breeches. Coming to a stop in front of him, her breath caught in her throat.

“You look lovely,” he said, his tone a little husky, making her toes curl. A familiar throbbing began between her legs. Blast!

She must resist. Staring at his cravat instead of into his sultry eyes, she answered, “Yes, I know. Lord Payton has already said as such. I’m a prime lady. Now let me pass.”

He made a face of distaste. “Is that the best he could do? Rather uncouth, if I may say.”

“No, you may not. Step aside, Hargrove. He’ll think I am too dim to find my own slippers.”

“I would have gladly taken you to the assembly tonight.”

Sighing, she finally looked directly at him, their gazes locking. “I gave my word to attend with Lord Payton. I didn’t even know if you were planning to go seeing as you hate everything about Brighton except the whores.”

“I didn’t tup her.” He’d said it so softly she almost missed it.

“You didn’t...,” she began but stopped herself. How did he know that was what was bothering her so greatly? But his admission, which she believed because he had no reason to lie, caused an immediate sense of relief to filter through her. She could stop imagining him at least with that particular female.

Ultimately, of course, it changed little. Besides, she could guess the reason his plans for amorous congress had been thwarted. He’d been half seas over, and thus the blowsabella could as easily have milked a pigeon as have got him to swive with her.

Tonight, after the assembly, the entire performance might be repeated by him and the whore, except with him drinking less.

“Frankly, Lord Hargrove, I don’t care if you tup the entire female population of Brighton. I am attending the soirée with a gentleman, and thus your actions are of no concern to me.”

He looked unruffled by her coldness.

“Are you saying if I stroke your delicate chin like so,” and with his ungloved thumb, he did exactly that along her sensitive jawline, “it will be as nothing to you?”

Glynnis lifted her chin away from his touch. She swallowed.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“And if I put my hands upon your waist and draw you close,” and he did so, “you won’t lean against me and tilt your head back for a kiss?”

She shuddered as their fronts touched and the heat of desire shot through her like lightning bolts. Forcing herself to remain rigid, she had no choice but to tilt her head to look at him.

“I won’t,” she declared.

“Actually, you are rather,” he said.

“I’m not leaning against you in any way.” She was amazed by the steadiness of her voice when inside, she was feeling decidedly fluffy, crumbly, soft, and even squishy.

He ignored her. “And if I bend low and kiss you, will you bite my lower lip and push me away?”

She sucked in a breath and waited. Agonizingly slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers. Glynnis reminded herself she didn’t really want this, no matter how her body seemed determined to become molten liquid. She wanted a man who would marry her! She needed a husband.

But when his hands reached around to grab the round swells of her buttocks, she moaned against his mouth.

As he drew her hips against his, curling her into his body so she could feel his stark arousal, she wondered how this would end.

“I can send Payton away,” he murmured, barely lifting his mouth from hers. “We’ll enjoy one another’s company, and then I shall be the one to escort you tonight.”

Lord Payton!She’d almost forgotten him. A perfectly good marriageable man was awaiting her below. As much as she cared for James Lambert, she needed a future.

With determination she could only maintain briefly, she sank her teeth into his lower lip as he’d predicted, releasing him when he yelped. Then she made a fist and rammed it below his ribs next to the mother-of-pearl buttons on his waistcoat.

Glynnis probably hurt herself more than him, but he got the message and let go his inappropriate hold of her bottom.

“Step aside,” she said as strongly as she could, “or I swear I will scream.”

His nostrils flared and the muscle in his jaw jumped, but silently, he moved out of the doorway and let her pass.

Hurrying down the stairs, Glynnis saw Lord Payton chatting with Mr. Sparks. Her entire encounter with James had probably lasted only three minutes, so why did she feel as if she’d kept him waiting an eternity?

“I’m dreadfully sorry. At first, I couldn’t find this particular pair, and then, there they were, under the bed.” She tucked them under her arm as Mr. Sparks opened the door for them.

“As I said, Miss Talbot, we shall enjoy the party when we get there. There’s no rush.”

Knowing James was probably at the top of the stairs watching them, by the way the hair on the back of her neck stood up, Glynnis willed herself not to turn.

At the same time, she forced herself to forget she preferred him over every man she’d ever met.

***

JAMES STROLLED ALONGthe Marine Parade by himself. His mood would be worse except he had felt the shiver under his fingers when he’d held Glynnis. And her warm lips had responded briefly with passion before she’d bitten him like a hellcat.

He supposed he deserved it. Moreover, he was intrigued by her jealousy over a harlot. After all, she was engaged. Why would she care if he enjoyed himself? It was a mystery, but she definitely had been bothered.

Probably not as much, however, as he was perturbed by her newfound companionship with Payton. If she had to await Aberavon in the company of a man, why not do so with him? Why take up with another?

After watching Payton take his lovely houseguest by the arm, James had waited a few minutes, not wanting to be trailing upon their heels down the street to the Old Ship, although the view of her backside might have been worth it. He’d thought about having a drink to bide the time but reconsidered.

With his obsession — which is what he would now call this unceasing desire for Glynnis — burning through him, making him blatantly irrational, he didn’t want a repeat of the previous assembly’s indulgence.

He’d been spoony drunk by the time he got to ... Dammit all! He’d forgotten her name again. He doubted the Cyprian would hold a grudge since he’d left her well paid, but it had been a waste of good female flesh and his own coin. He needed to show a little more restraint.

“Stop behaving like a spoiled whelp,” he muttered to himself when he finally entered the assembly room on the ground floor of the Old Ship. Quite a goodly sized crowd had already gathered, but the high, white plaster ceiling kept it from growing too warm. With their gold-and-red-striped curtains drawn back, the windows were all open along one wall of cream-colored wallpaper as were the double doors at the opposite end, leading into the back courtyard of the hotel.

Above them, the royal box was empty since there would be no concert that evening. In the perfectly positioned, musicians’ balcony, however, the sounds of a small orchestra were already flowing down to the ballroom floor.

Deciding to pay his respects first to the Regent, now that His Highness had all but set him free, James made his way toward the elegant royal retiring room added after one of Prinny’s first visits to Brighton in 1787, supposedly to entice him back. As it turned out, he had needed no such enticement.

Approaching the double open doors off one side of the ballroom, James knew Prinny was already enjoying himself in the royal chamber, as evidenced by the tail-end of a ribald joke followed by his loud laughter, quickly joined in by those around him.

James supposed a jovial Prince Regent was better than a dour one. But sometimes, he might instill more confidence in the British people if he weren’t quite so jolly at so very many parties, and if he took more of an interest in matters of state as he did in matters of music and art.

Prinny welcomed him with a smile and a nod, and James bowed.

“Here’s my good friend, Hargrove.”

James was taken aback by the warmth of the greeting and by Prinny’s declaration to the tuft-hunters surrounding him like bees to a flower.

“Hargrove has brought me the most exquisite vase, all the way from the Louvre. You shall see it at my birthday party. Did I mention we’re having a masquerade?”

And with that, the flicker of fame passed from James back to the prince and those who crowded close to give him early good wishes.

Having done his duty, he returned to the ballroom, trying not to look for Glynnis and Payton. He failed, spying them laughing over something on the other side of the room with two other bucks dancing attendance. And why not? She was easily outshining everyone else in the room, just as she had in London all those months ago.

And exactly like that first time he’d spotted her, a surge of longing went through him. Glancing around wildly for some other destination — Staunton? No. Cumberry? No! Dodd? For God’s sake, no! He ignored the refreshments and then saw a dull but harmless fellow he knew from his London club. They could have a chin-wag over the last Parliamentary session or the price of tea shares.

Yet he couldn’t help noticing when Glynnis noticed him. Her gaze tracked him crossing the room. Her cheeks stained pink, and he felt an answering tightening of his loins thinking of their recent kiss. How they hadn’t yet danced the hornpipe jig, he didn’t know.

“Morley,” he greeted his acquaintance, and their conversation commenced.

It was many minutes later, maybe a good half an hour when he glanced over in her direction for the umpteenth time only to discover her missing.

While Morley talked about coal reserves, James scanned the rest of the ballroom.

She and Payton were dancing, and he wished with all his heart he was her partner.

James waited until the music stopped, and then he made his move. Her eyes widened as he approached. He almost imagined she thought he would grab hold of her and kiss her again. That’s what he wanted to do.

“I think I like this room as much as the ballroom at the Castle,” he said by way of beginning.

She said nothing, but Payton nodded. “I agree. There is something welcoming about this one. What do you think, Miss Talbot?”

“I think it’s because the musicians are above us.” She glanced toward the curved balcony that protruded into the room. “Their position caused the music to float all around us,” she offered.

James looked into her eyes. “I believe you’re right, Miss Talbot. It’s the music. Will you allow me the next dance?”

“No,” she said, unnerving him.

Would she truly offer such a public insult by refusing to dance with him?

“That is, I have already promised it to a Mr. ...?” She looked at Payton as if he were her chaperone, and thus keeping track for her.

“Mr. Caldwell,” Payton supplied. “You know,” he said to James, “the Earl of Ware’s son.”

James nodded. “Yes, I know him.” He could accept being put off for an earl’s son. But he had another question in case she meant to shun him the entire night.

“Are all your dances taken?”

Payton laughed, which annoyed him, but he tried not to show it.

“I ask because this lady is so beautiful, I can imagine I am too late.” James’s attention didn’t waver from her face. His compliment was real, and in a way, he knew he was too late because of Aberavon.

“The dance after is free,” she allowed, and his spirits lifted. She wasn’t going to punish him all night.

“In that case, I will see you then.”

“You don’t have to hurry off, do you, old chum,” Payton said. “Tell me what’s happening with the cursed art, and what was Morley telling you? He always knows which way the wind is blowing when it comes to investing.”

James hesitated. Strangely, he felt as if he were the one escorting Glynnis that night and Payton was the interloper. However, her stance, closer to his friend, belied his wistful notion.

“If the lady doesn’t mind such talk,” James said.

Glynnis hesitated only briefly. “Of course not. You two gentlemen talk. The dance is about to begin anyway.”

As she spoke, her next partner arrived and took her away. James watched her depart, his gaze fixed upon her until Payton spoke.

“What is going on with you tonight? You don’t seem yourself. Nor did you the other night, for that matter, with all that sucking the monkey until you were drunk as David’s sow.”

James ignored his friend’s colorful way with words.

“Actually, I have good news,” he said, deciding to address the main reason for his recent foul mood, not Glynnis but Prinny. “Our prince is going to take precisely one vase from the wagonful of art I brought him.”

“That’s good news?” Payton asked.

“Wellington wants the rest, and Prinny knew it all along. He was punishing me, and now he’s finished. The sea air or Mrs. Fitzherbert or who know what has made him forgive me.”

“That’s grand. Then you can leave this horrid place whenever you wish,” Payton said, laughter in his voice.

“I agree I was hard on Brighton when I first arrived. It’s not as bad as I thought.” James’s gaze swept over the dancers again to locate her, a vision in sunny yellow silk. The saturated hue set off her dark hair to perfection. “However, I believe I’ve not been given permission to leave until after His Highness’s birthday masquerade.”

“Ah, yes, when we watch Prinny become a little boy again, expecting everyone to fawn all over him and give him presents.”

“You mean like every day?” James quipped. They shared a laugh and were back on their old footing. He glanced toward the dance floor once more.

“She’s quite the gimcrack,” Payton said, knowing where he was looking and at whom.

He stiffened, but the man was correct. “She is. Truthfully, she’s what has made my banishment to Brighton bearable.”

“Hm,”Payton said. “Not the light-heeled jade you were with the other night?”

James rolled his eyes. It was none of Payton’s business anyway.

“Don’t get too attached,” his friend reminded him. “I hear from a very good source that she’s engaged.”

“The jade?” James asked glibly

“Ha! That is rich.”

James hoped Payton was taking his own advice and not becoming attached to Miss Talbot.

“I wouldn’t have spent so much time with her had she not been engaged,” he explained. “That alone made her ... safe.”

“Safe?” Payton roared with laughter. “I never thought I would hear such a ridiculous statement from your lips. No female of a certain age is a safe one. You know that.”

James did. He considered them, especially Glynnis, to be the essence of temptation, put upon the earth to send men mad with their eyes and mouths and their smooth skin and luscious curves. And then they had to go and speak, sometimes praising, sometimes cutting a man to shreds.

They talked of other things until Payton said, “I believe it’s your turn, old chum.”

James turned. Glynnis was being escorted off the floor.