Banished to Brighton by Sydney Jane Baily

Chapter Four

“What are you doing?” came a stern voice, making Glynnis jump.

It was Lord Hargrove, who’d become practically her shadow ever since the encounter with the Prince Regent. That meeting had gone better than expected. His Royal Highness had already imbibed enough to be happy and welcoming, but not so much that he later wouldn’t recall how well they’d fallen in with one another.

She sensed having his favor for the remainder of her stay in Brighton would be essential. Any friend of the prince’s would always be surrounded by the highest level of society. Surely one of the men would want her as his wife.

Thus, she had continued to amuse him until he truly couldn’t ignore his courtiers any longer. Finally, Glynnis had curtsied, hopefully leaving him wanting more of her company. As for the Regent ordering Hargrove to look after her, Glynnis hadn’t decided yet if that was good or bad. Until that moment...

“I am going to join the other party-goers outside.”

“Most are indoors, either in the music room or strolling Nash’s new gallery.”

She frowned. “Do I have to go where everyone else is?”

“It’s safer,” he pointed out.

Glynnis couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “We are in the middle of a royal assembly. It is not yet midnight. The entire town is like a safe version of London.”

“Not that safe,” James insisted. “The Prince Regent doesn’t only bring the—” he coughed once “—the wagtails.” She raised her eyebrows, and he hurried to add, “The disreputable females, if you take my meaning.”

She nodded, wondering where he was going with this awkward speech.

“Inadvertently, his entourage brings from London the scapegraces and nappers, the light-fingered budges, the bully-cocks, silk-snatchers, and common pickpockets.”

She knew she wore an astounded expression.

“You cannot seriously be trying to frighten me into thinking charming seaside Brighton is anything like the streets of London, particularly east of St. Paul’s.”

They stared at one another in silence, until finally, Hargrove expelled a breath and confessed, “No, I suppose not.”

“Then I will head outside, my lord. In all probability, I shall return in time for the next piece. I believe the prince said it would be Beethoven.”

“Not without me, you’re not.”

And then it hit her like an iron spade. If Hargrove wouldn’t compromise her, then he would be the perfect witness to some other man doing so. She only need dodge him long enough to get a baron, a viscount, or if she were extremely lucky, an earl to take her behind the hedgerow. She would let him place his hands on her waist and kiss her, and then Hargrove would happen upon them like a dog at the hunt.

He seemed like the type of man who would demand instant satisfaction — and she would find herself engaged before sunrise.

“Very well, but don’t hover,” she said. “If you do, then people will think we’re a couple. What will that do to my reputation?”

He looked at her, narrowing his attractive eyes.

“I shall introduce you to a lady or two, and then you can stay in a group with them, unless you know some from Town.”

She hadn’t attended a Season or three to make female friends, nor had any of the other ladies. And if one didn’t have sisters or cousins or even a mother who had Mayfair friends, then each ballroom was nothing more than a chamber full of vicious competitors.

“I don’t need to meet any ladies,” she said too quickly.

“You can’t meet any more men. You’re engaged and that would affect your reputation far more quickly than walking around with me.”

“I disagree. Because I am engaged, I should have the freedom to keep company with anyone I choose in the public areas.”

He gritted his teeth, and she assumed he was fuming.

As her finger was already on the door handle, Glynnis pushed her way outside. A long expanse of grass met her gaze until it was stopped by another large building across the lawn, a building with whimsical minarets and a massive dome. The prince’s famed stables! She strode onto the path winding around the property, although there were people standing around lanterns and under tents.

“What about you? Don’t you have a lady-friend here who needs your attention?” she asked over her shoulder, knowing Hargrove was still close. “Don’t say you have no intention of maintaining your raffish reputation in Brighton. You’ll break all the single ladies’ hearts. And some of the married ones, too, I’ll warrant.”

Glynnis hoped he took it as a challenge and would go off to do something befitting a rum buck. She’d seen him dancing with a woman who, by her dress and manner, was a courtesan. It had given her a small pang of jealousy, knowing Hargrove was free to engage in the mysterious two-backed beast with the harlot, while she had to bait a man and then await her wedding night.

Into the silence, Glynnis turned to observe him. Hargrove cocked his head, gave a single sniff, and then sighed.

“Perhaps I am sticking a little too closely. Nothing can happen here in the garden in sight of the Pavilion’s many windows, not with so many others around. But what will you do if I walk away, for I do see a lady of my acquaintance with whom I would like to share a word? Will you simply stand by yourself like a stick in the mud?”

“I shall take a short stroll, and if it makes you feel better, I will even speak with some of the other female guests. All right?”

He hesitated, but only a moment. “Very well. I will see you anon.” Bowing slightly, he wandered away toward two fair-haired women. Glynnis wrinkled her nose. Maybe he preferred blondes and that had set him against her in London. If she’d been so fair as those girls, maybe he would have allowed himself to be trapped.

No matter. There were plenty of noblemen who liked a chestnut-haired lady. Hesitating, wondering if she should walk right up to a group that had more men than women, suddenly, another solitary individual exited the Pavilion and came sauntering toward her.

To her good fortune, he was vaguely handsome, taller than she was, and not more than a decade older. Thus, as soon as he crossed the paving stones and onto the grass, which was currently yellowing due to the daily hot sun, she was upon him.

“Good evening, my lord, can it be you?”

He bowed graciously while wearing a bewattled expression.

“I am not sure who you think I am, dear lady, but to my dismay, I do not believe we are acquainted.”

“Goodness! Please excuse my forwardness. I thought you were someone else. I don’t know anyone here, and thus must admit to pouncing too quickly upon what I thought was a familiar face.”

Then she offered him her saddest pout.

“Never mind,” he said. “Why don’t we introduce ourselves? Somewhat irregular, wot-wot, but we can always say someone put us up to it.”

Perfect, Glynnis thought. He didn’t mind a little dissembling.

“That sounds like a grand idea. I am Miss Talbot. My father is the viscount, Lord Dynevor of Llandeilo, Wales.” She always tossed that in as soon as politely possible, since being a viscount’s daughter was something, as long as word of her penniless state wasn’t widely known.

“I am enchanted to meet you, Miss Talbot. I am Lord Cumberry. My family home is in Kent.”

She wracked her brain, but didn’t recall the name. Without asking, she had no way of knowing his rank. But his cravat was whiter than new snow, his boots were perfectly polished, and his dark jacket and indigo waistcoat had not a thread out of place. He must, therefore, have a valet, and they were expensive to keep.

So far, so good.

“Have you only just arrived in Brighton?” she asked him.

“Indeed, I have. I’ve taken a house on the Steyne. I like to be in the thick of things.”

Or maybe he couldn’t afford the first-quality homes on the seafront. But noticeably, he didn’t say “we.” She could only ascertain he had no wife.

“And you?” he returned, seemingly interested.

“I, too, have recently arrived. I’ve taken lodgings on the Marine Parade.” Or at least, a room in a hotel, but he needn’t know that. Not yet.

He nodded. “The sea air and all that, wot-wot.”

“I’m sure the air is as fresh and cleansing on the Steyne as where I reside,” she consoled him.

“Indeed. Shall we take a turn around the prince’s fine yard?”

He offered his arm, and she placed her hand upon it before they started to walk. Occasionally her shoulder brushed against his arm. She had a feeling he was game.

Continuing their promenade, chatting lightly about nothing, they finally approached the large white building in the corner of the property.

“The stables,” her escort said as they drew closer.

“Yes, I’d heard of their unusual design, but they are beyond imagining. She took another look at the impressive edifice of minarets and massive windows with its majestic dome towering over everything around it, and she had two thoughts — firstly, there didn’t seem to be any lamps lit or party guests near the stables, and thus she intended to steer him back to where someone might see them. Secondly, gracious! These horses had a finer home than her parents’ house.

As they drew closer, the hair on the back of Glynnis neck seemed to prickle, perhaps because Lord Cumberry’s footsteps had sped up. Easily tugging her arm free, she spun upon her heel to start up another path along the lawn and back toward the Pavilion.

“Miss Talbot,” came Lord Cumberry’s voice behind her. “Wouldn’t you like to see the prince’s fine horses? I believe you shall find a magnificent stallion inside.”

Raising a gloved hand, she kept walking. Did he think her an absolute ninny?

“Most assuredly,” she declared, “I shall not.”

His hurried footsteps caught up to her, and they continued in silence until they reached a yew hedgerow growing at an angle to the house. Suddenly, they were in the shadows, close to the other revelers yet still shielded. Moreover, they were slowing down until they came to a standstill.

“Have you been to Brighton before?” he asked, glancing around him in a manner familiar to her. He was looking for privacy.

She’d already answered this banal question when he’d asked her many minutes prior. She, too, looked around, but she was looking for a witness.

“No, my lord. This is my first time.” That made her sound like a debutante at her first ball, a good impression. She blinked up at him a few times as if life in society was entirely new to her.

“I quite like it,” Glynnis added in her best breathy tone. “Moreover, I find everything and everyone are of interest to me.”

“How refreshing,” Lord Cumberry said. “Look up and see how clearly the stars appear.”

She did as he suggested, and felt him move closer until suddenly, his lips were upon her arched neck. She shivered, continuing to observe the night sky, and then he drew her against him. This was all very good except she was unsure how to get someone to see their inappropriate behavior. Should she scream?

Hating to do that, for she would rather not directly be the cause of their discovery as it could cause resentment in her future husband, she bided her time and let him nibble her neck. Where was Hargrove? She’d hoped he would have discovered her by then.

Instead, Glynnis would have to let Lord Cumberry take a few liberties now in order to ensure he took some later when she had maneuvered them into a more favorable position for being found.

When she felt his hands on her back, she shifted her gaze to his.

“I did see the stars,” she remarked, then added coyly, “They gave me the most curiously warm feeling.”

He chuckled softly before lowering his head. She closed her eyes and waited. Instead of a pleasant kiss, she heard loud, off-tune whistling.

In a flash, Lord Cumberry darted away from her.

“Cumberry, is that you?” came a familiar voice.

Hargrove!

***

“WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOUabout, ol’ boy?” James asked. As if he didn’t know! There they were at the first of Prinny’s parties and already Kissing Cumberry was up to his usual tricks. He’d been caught kissing more women than just about any man. Not that many a man didn’t enjoy stealing a kiss, but the fellow showed no sense about where and when.

Poor Miss Talbot to have foolishly taken a walk with him. He couldn’t credit the idea she’d had a hand in enticing Cumberry, not now she was safely engaged. James had kept an eye upon her, ready to run if she so much as set foot in the stables, and was glad she’d shown good sense in turning back toward the party. Then he’d lost them momentarily behind the shrubbery.

“Good evening, Hargrove,” Cumberry returned, grinning like an idiot and looking unbothered, while Miss Talbot appeared flustered.

Apparently she hadn’t realized her predicament until too late, and luckily James had shown up in time. If he hadn’t whistled a warning, he would have been forced to demand Cumberry do the honorable thing and buy the marriage contract from Miss Talbot’s fiancé. Probably Aberavon would still have demanded satisfaction by way of a duel.

“Prinny’s about to play the cello,” James told them, “and everyone has been commanded to enjoy it.”

“Don’t want to miss such a performance, eh, wot-wot,” the man said, practically salivating. Cumberry was a confirmed royal bum-kisser, too.

“We must take another walk soon, Miss Talbot,” he added before dashing back toward the terrace doors of the Pavilion.

“I guess we should go inside,” Miss Talbot said.

“No rush,” James told her. “Undoubtedly, the prince’s cello will be brought out, but not yet, not until we’re all desperate to leave and Prinny is equally desperate to hold us captive.”

She cocked her head. “You lied to Lord Cumberry?”

“Indeed, I did. And now that he’s gone, I must warn you not to walk alone with him again. He will attempt to take liberties with your person. Moreover, he is the worst type of petticoat pensioner.”

The annoying woman showed no alarm, but simply blinked up at him.

“I beg your pardon.”

“Cumberry is a scroof, if you take my meaning. He’s a sponge who lives off the women he escorts around Town.”

“Ah,” she said. “If he’s the worst, is there a better type of petticoat pensioner?” She offered an amused smile.

“I suppose not. I don’t approve of anyone using another person for their own gain.”

Her cheeks went a little pink, and it had been harsh of him to say, but he was still smarting over her deceptive behavior on the divan.

“I thank you for your concern once again,” Miss Talbot said, albeit a little stiffly. “First Leilton and now Cumberry. Is there anyone at this party who isn’t a scoundrel? Anyone safe for an honest woman to chat with or take a turn about the garden?” Then she glanced around.

James realized they were secluded behind a hedgerow. Undoubtedly, she was noticing the same thing.

Looking back at him, her lovely eyebrows rose.

“If there is no cello performance yet,” she asked, “what shall we do to occupy ourselves?”

And the chit offered him a wry smile. She was so frank with her stares, he felt a stirring he absolutely didn’t wish to feel, the same draw he’d perceived in London.

“We must rejoin the other guests at once, Miss Talbot.”

Damn him if he didn’t sound like a prude! The sooner her fiancé arrived and took her off his hands, the better.

She insisted on him taking her arm, so they strolled out from behind the hedge, linked together. A few people glanced their way. The only thing saving them was that Prinny’s parties often ended in scandalous behavior and an unchaperoned stroll around the grounds didn’t seem terribly egregious in comparison, even if a few imagined they had been up to no good.

Still, James would insist she behave better. He almost laughed at himself. How on earth could he do that? Moreover, he couldn’t imagine how she had become his responsibility.

“I shall leave you here,” he said, abruptly disentangling her from the crook of his arm. Her hand gripped his coat sleeve tightly for a moment, then released him. She wandered toward one of the smaller groups of guests which included a few lords and ladies whom he knew, and he felt a little sorry for Miss Talbot.

Shaking it off, having done his duty, he went back inside. But a few minutes later, out of the corner of his eye, he observed her reenter the music room. Suddenly, the pleasant distraction of a well-known Cyprian who’d come down from her infamous perch in London to offer her services to the Prince Regent’s friends faded into the background. She was still talking, but her voice faded.

Miss Talbot glanced at him, then looked away, taking in the room, and quick as a whip, she traversed it and left.

“If you’ll excuse me,” James said to the rouge-cheeked beauty with her feminine assets on display in the sheerest of gowns. He might have a go at those assets later if no one else claimed her first.

Following in Miss Talbot’s footsteps, leaving the music room behind, he realized she’d already passed through the gorgeous new Nash gallery and was somewhere else in the Pavilion. Unable to tamp down his curiosity, he went after her.

Where was the minx? And why in hell was she strolling alone?