Banished to Brighton by Sydney Jane Baily

Chapter Seven

Awakening around eleven, Glynnis’s stomach was rumbling. She’d already consumed Lord Hargrove’s other sandwich the day prior, long before the party, and today’s picnic was still two hours away. Perhaps she should have eaten more of each course, rather than consuming such ladylike morsels. Even better, she could have attempted to bring some of the Regent’s exquisite food home with her.

Ah well, it probably would have been stolen along with her reticule.

She considered whether she was brazen enough to walk to the Pavilion and present herself to Prinny for a quick nuncheon before the mid-afternoon gathering. However, Glynnis had heard he wasn’t always as sociable when not playing host. It would be dreadful to do anything to raise his ire and risk missing out on the rest of the little Brighton Season.

While she could put anything from the hotel’s dining room on her hotel account, she decided to wait for the free meal. After all there was a slim chance when it came time to settle the bill, she would not have secured a wealthy fiancé to take care of it.

When Glynnis could stand her room not a minute longer, despite it being light, airy, and comfortable, she decided to go on her one errand. Parasol, straw bonnet with ribbons tied securely under her chin, a pale blue lightweight cotton dress, and a cream-colored silk shawl in case the breeze picked up — she was ready for the day’s events.

Stopping at an apothecary, she purchased the smallest amount of both witch hazel and a soothing, chamomile salve. After all, the condition of her skin was nothing to risk. After hurrying past the delicious smells of the hotel’s café, she was back in her room to apply both the treatments before going outside once again.

Not wanting to go too far in case she missed Hargrove, she remained on the oceanfront road, strolling next to the cliffs, past the fish market and the baths where she would be later, after the picnic, if the prince didn’t change his mind. She crossed the opening where the Steyne met the sea and traversed the South Parade. In five minutes, Glynnis walked on the Marine Parade where the wealthier nobs had taken up residence.

To her surprise, just a few houses ahead of her, James popped out the front door, closing it behind him. As usual, he appeared mouth-wateringly handsome, or perhaps her mouth was merely watering because she was beyond famished. In either case, she was glad to see him.

“Hargrove,” she exclaimed, and he looked equally astonished. “I had no idea your residence was so near to mine. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He blinked. Maybe the sun was in his deep blue eyes.

“The address of my dwelling didn’t come up in our conversation, nor did I see how there was any relevance as to where I was staying,” he insisted.

“Hm.”By his reaction, Glynnis had a suspicion he hadn’t told her how very close he was because he was worried his proximity might present temptation. With him merely a few minutes down the road, if she were the immoral type, she might find herself dancing Molly Pratley’s gig on his feather bed.

A bold thought, yet she’d seen how his gaze had landed on her lips the night before. Pure desire had shone from his eyes, and she’d felt an answering sensation of yearning. Nothing would have seemed more natural and perfect than ending up swiving, despite knowing ladies didn’t do such a thing outside of marriage.

More’s the pity!In her heart, she knew he would have made her first time something spectacular.

“Were you out for a stroll?” he asked, such an innocent question when she was having such bawdy imaginings.

“I was, but mostly, I was waiting for you and for the picnic.”

He looked surprised. “I had no idea anyone would be so eager to eat food on a blanket spread on prickly grass in the hot sun with all manner of creepy crawlies and flying things.

That dampened her spirits a little until she realized he was teasing.

“Your expression!” Hargrove said with a laugh, before taking her arm and escorting her back toward the Steyne and the Pavilion grounds. “Prinny may have blankets spread out, but he’s just as likely to have tables and comfortable chairs on the grass on the western side, near where I caught Cumberry trying to kiss you.”

He paused and she wished he hadn’t caught her with three men who were unsuitable. It reflected as badly on her powers of sound discernment as it did on the quality of men hanging on to the royal coattails.

“In fact, I can’t imagine him getting down onto a blanket. One of his legs looked a bit swollen last night. In any case, he’ll have servants with giant fans to cool his guests and keep the flies away.”

She laughed, but Hargrove added, “No, I don’t speak in jest. He will. As for the crawlies, I’m not sure even the Prince Regent can do anything about ants.”

“They shall have to fight me for the sausage rolls,” she said.

“Don’t tell me you skipped another meal.”

“Of course not. I ate at the same table as you.”

“I’ve had plum cake and a bracing cup of chocolate already and then a cup of tea with a brioche slathered in butter and jam.”

Glynnis’s mouth was watering again. “You knew how close I was. It would have been gentlemanly of you to invite me over,” she said, feeling quite let down.

“That would have been the opposite of gentlemanly, and you know it. Besides, I was in a rented drawing room with salt-encrusted furniture, and I’m sure the sea air is purposefully blowing the aroma of dried seaweed through my window. You have that delightful hotel café at your disposal. I’m sure they have brioche there.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, glad when the Pavilion came into view. “But do you think we will eat presently, or will there be some sort of entertainment first?”

“Are you truly hungry?”

“It’s no matter. My own fault. I got out of bed late and then had to go find something to soothe my scrapes instead of something to quell my appetite.”

“Ah yes. I intend to have a word with that idiot Cumberry if he shows his face today.”

A warm feeling flooded her. Hargrove was going to take the other man to task on her behalf. A champion at last!

“Thank you,” she said, “yet I believe it will do you as much good as shouting into the wind. After all, what will he do? Offer to escort me another time? I believe I no longer wish to be on his arm.”

“You should never be alone with that man again. Regardless, I will give him a tongue-lashing. It would do him some good to think about his actions, especially where women are concerned.”

She couldn’t disagree, so she said nothing. And soon, they’d traversed the property and found the Prince Regent standing under a tree with a gaggle of courtiers around him. She was relieved to see tables already set up, and a steady stream of servants carrying baskets and trays out from the kitchen’s back door.

Almost running, she went to the nearest table, reached over, and picked up a bread roll.

“No, no, Miss Talbot!” It was Prince George’s voice, and she dropped the crusty bun as if it were made of hot coal.

Her stomach panged, having been so close to getting a tasty morsel. And all she could think of was the blasted plum cake Hargrove had mentioned. Regardless, she sank into a deep curtsy until the Prince Regent nodded for her to rise.

“A picnic is a casual affair, but we still have to wait until all the guests are here. Besides, you’re at the wrong table,” Prince George informed her. “I want you at my table with my friends. Mine is the one in the shade. I’m sure someone with your fair complexion you’ll appreciate not having to hold your parasol through the entire meal.”

“How long do you think we’ll spend dining?” Hargrove asked, and Glynnis could hear the worry in his voice that another three hours of his life were about to be stolen from him.

“Don’t sound so anxious,” the prince said. “We shall get to the ocean’s edge today, long before the sun goes down with plenty of time to bathe and maybe take a donkey ride. And we shall stay on the beach for the sunset because it is glorious.”

All that sounded fine, but not until she’d had a solid meal.

“It’s a lovely day for a picnic and for bathing, Your Highness,” she prompted.

“Isn’t it though? But then Brighton or as I first knew it, Brighthelmstone, has always been a delightful place. I think I love everything about it, the assemblies, the horse-races, promenading along our splendid English Channel, the weather.” The Prince Regent turned his pudgy face toward the seaside.

“The gambling, the loose blowsabellas, being so far from his stodgy parents,” Hargrove muttered in her ear.

She dug her elbow into his ribs to shut his mouth as Prince George turned back to them.

“The people here,” he continued, “are universally of wit and style, and the ladies such as yourself have all the beauty of a fine painting and the enjoyableness of—”

“Roast chicken?” Hargrove interrupted.

“What?” the Regent exclaimed. “Are you comparing lovely Miss Talbot to a piece of well-cooked fowl?”

Her stomach squeezed at the mention of chicken.

“No,” Hargrove said, “certainly not.”

Glynnis could hear the mockery in his tone.

“I was merely wondering what was on the picnic menu. It seems ages ago we were dining at your table.”

“Yes, it does, doesn’t it?” Prince George said, sounding distracted. “And I am growing peckish, as I haven’t eaten since breakfast except for a small noontime snack. If you’ll excuse me, Miss Talbot, more guests are arriving. By the way, Hargrove, you’ll be at that table over there.”

And he pointed to one in the full sun.

“I hope you enjoy my picnic,” the prince said to her.

“Yes, thank you, Your Highness.” She curtsied again and watched him waddle off across the grass, using a sturdy cane. “That was rude of you,” she said to Hargrove. “You were mocking him.”

“He isn’t here for the wit and style, any more than his courtiers are. Being here makes him feel young again, like he’s twenty-one and seeing Brighton for the first time. Word has it, he came two decades ago to escape his father’s disapproval. Now, he’s here to escape the same sentiment but from most of the British people, and especially Londoners who don’t think he’s half the man his father was, except in size, of course.”

She frowned and stared after the prince. “It’s unlikely his father will recover, isn’t it?”

Hargrove nodded. “I think you’re correct.”

“Then Prince George will be our king and shall need to fill his father’s shoes.”

“He will try.” And Hargrove sighed, sounding weary. “While he empties the country’s coffers.”

She didn’t know anything about such things, but trusted Britain’s coffers would remain as plentiful as ever, along with those of her future husband, whoever he may be.

Hoping to start moving things in the right direction, Glynnis walked toward the table the prince had indicated, closed her parasol and leaned it against a tree.

Hargrove accompanied her. When her stomach grumbled loudly, her gaze flew to his.

“Good lord, woman,” he looked around as if he feared someone would think he’d made the noise. “You might wish to eat upon a more regular basis. It sounds as though you have an animal caged under your skirt.”

She grimaced and turned her back, and that’s when she saw servants setting up the croquet wickets.

“Oh, sweet Mary,” she muttered. Food first, food first, she chanted silently.

“We shall have a round of lawn croquet before we dine,” Prince George announced.

The Devil!

“Did you just mutter an oath?”

Had she?Glynnis was sure she’d only thought it.

“Of course not!” And as the rest of the guests had arrived including some new faces she hadn’t seen the night before, the prince divided them up into groups of four. He looked happier even than at his party the night before.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. And then she went to her assigned team with Hargrove and another man and woman. They all greeted one another, and the play began.

By the luck of the draw, Glynnis’s team went last, and as she waited for the three groups ahead of her to clear the first hoop, she realized without her parasol, her hat wasn’t providing enough shade to keep her head cool. When they started, the other lady in their group handed her parasol to her partner who dutifully held it over her as she swung the mallet, sending her blue-painted ball through the hoop.

Managing to hit a ball from the team ahead of them, she yelled “Roquet,” even though Glynnis was certain they were to keep their points and their score confined to their own four balls.

Glynnis didn’t make it through the hoop on her first try with her yellow ball, but did so on her second, as did both the gentlemen. Naturally, the Prince Regent finished his fourteen points first about an hour and a half later, hitting the brightly colored winning pin.

By then, Glynnis’s skin felt clammy and her heart was racing despite doing nothing more strenuous than ambling around the parched lawn. Licking her dry lips, she focused on the hoop, but it seemed to be moving.

“Stay still,” she ordered.

“Are you well?” she heard Hargrove ask, but a buzzing in her ears made her wonder if a hive of bees was nearby.

She felt the mallet slip from her grasp, and then ... nothing.

***

JAMES CAUGHT MISS TALBOTbefore she hit the ground. A chorus of concerned murmurings went up around them, but she was oblivious. He looked down at the lovely creature in his arms. Her eyelids remained closed with her dark lashes fanning her cheek.

After a moment, Prinny stepped closer and observed the scene.

“You may take her inside, Hargrove. The sofa in the main salon under the dome is most comfortable.”

James nodded and strode across the lawn carrying Miss Talbot high in his arms against his chest. One often heard of fainting damsels, and in some of the stuffier ballrooms in London, he’d heard murmurings some lady had fainted by and by. But Miss Talbot was the first he’d seen do so close up. It was a strange thing to be holding so much female flesh out in public.

In a short while, however, they were indoors and alone. He set her upon the very sofa Prinny had mentioned. Naturally, it was red velvet with gold tassels. He couldn’t recall ever laying a woman down without it being quickly followed by a kiss or the removing of clothing. Maybe that was why he felt so mesmerized by her shapely form and parted lips.

The cushion pushed her hat forward as he released her, and since it looked uncomfortable, he untied the ribbon and removed it. She stirred, and her eyes slowly opened.

“Oh,” she moaned. “I feel ill.”

A footman stood in the doorway. “Would you bring a glass of ale or lemonade?” James asked him.

Then he touched her forehead. It was clammy. After brushing a few tendrils that clung to her skin, he lifted her gloved hand and patted it.

“Just catch your breath a moment. I’m sure it was simply too much sun.”

He watched the rise and fall of her chest as, surprisingly, she did as he instructed.

“I fainted,” Miss Talbot declared, eyes widening.

“You did.”

“That’s my first time ever,” she said, looking at their joined hands. “One minute I was concentrating on the yellow ball, and then, here I am.”

“It was my first time catching someone who fainted,” he confessed. “You added a measure of excitement to the party, I must say.”

“I’m ready to sit up,” she declared.

When she started to rise, he wasn’t sure whether to force her to remain prone, but in the end, he helped her to a seated position.

The footman returned with a tray, set it down and poured a glass of lemonade, handing it to James, who in turn gave it to Miss Talbot.

“Drink it down.”

She needed no second invitation, but slurped the beverage with gusto.

“Don’t tell me,” he said. “Not only didn’t you eat anything, you haven’t drunk anything either all day.”

She merely shrugged before draining the glass. He was starting to feel annoyed by her. It appeared she couldn’t look after even her most basic needs. Did the woman need a nanny? But her next question disarmed him.

“Do you think they’ve started the picnic yet?”

He couldn’t help but grin at her. He’d been crouching beside the sofa, but he rose to his feet and offered her his hand.

“I believe some food will do you better than resting here.”

“I do hope there are sausage rolls,” she said. As Miss Talbot stood, her hat fell behind her onto the sofa, and James hurried to pick it up.

“Allow me,” he said.

With her facing him, he placed it atop her shiny brown hair, which was plaited and pinned up. An irrational wish to unpin and unplait and run his finger through the thick skeins made him feel a little clammy as well.

“Make it straight,” she ordered, referring to her bonnet.

Dutifully, he adjusted it while her soft brown gaze regarded him the entire time.

“Don’t forget the bow,” she said. “Without a mirror, I can hardly do it myself.”

There were plenty of mirrors in the room, but he had no desire to relinquish her care to any one of them.

Drawing the silky cream-colored ribbon through his fingers, he set to tying the most perfect bow under her equally perfect chin, all the while staring into her eyes. When he finished and his fingers trailed along her chin, he couldn’t help brushing a thumb across her lush lower lip.

She gasped, and he fell farther under her spell, utterly compelled to kiss her.