“Just a moment, Miss Talbot,” and he jogged back to where it still lay upon the pebbles and set it on his head. When he rejoined her, he felt less undressed.
“At least my hat was saved,” he crowed, then wished he’d kept his mouth closed as her lips pressed momentarily into a thin line of dismay.
“What about my reticule I gave you for safekeeping?” she demanded, then held her hand out.
He blinked. Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew it. Slowly, he handed her the soggy purse. The fine silk, he warranted, was ruined.
“I hope as with your other reticle there was nothing of much value in it.”
She gave a massively long sigh.
Just as they climbed to street level, she struggled to tug on her single glove and slide the strap of the reticule onto her wrist while still holding her stays and chemise.
“That’s better,” she declared.
He would rather be flayed alive than tell her it wasn’t. In fact, she looked even stranger in her bedraggled state, her hair hanging snarled down her back, limping slightly because of the single shoe, wearing a bathing dress, a single white lace glove, and a reticule dangling from her arm.
Poor Miss Talbot!
***
GLYNNIS CONSIDEREDher losses as she hobbled along the rather rough track atop the cliffs toward the Old Ship — a day dress, shoes, a bonnet, a purse, and stockings. And maybe her stays were ruined, too! And the loss of her parasol to boot.
She feared she would have to move from her current lodging into the Lanes, as the center of Brighton’s old section was known. Not only flint cottages which housed the workers servicing the more prestigious areas of Castle Square, East Street, North Street, and, of course, the Steyne, the Lanes were also home to brick and cobble buildings filled with public houses and small shops. Perhaps she could get a room above the Cricketers Arms or the Black Lion, although she wouldn’t be able to tell anyone in the Prince Regent’s group of friends where she was staying.
A sob welled up in her throat, but since Hargrove was still by her side, she shoved it down again. The viscount had grabbed her person most improperly inside the overturned bathing machine, although she’d been relieved to see him while still deciding how terrifying her situation was. When his head had appeared in her underwater grotto, she knew at once she was not going to die.
Nevertheless, instead of making her all tingly with his caresses and then shocking her with a kiss as he’d done, she dearly wished he had helped her reclaim her dress and stockings before they had been swept out to sea.
Yet that kiss!It had been rather spectacular, warming her completely, at least for a moment. Looking at him out of the corner of her eye, she wondered how he could take such liberties without a by-your-leave beforehand, nor an apology after.
The answer was obvious — he was decidedly a rake, one who didn’t mind kissing an engaged woman.
Perhaps he wouldn’t mind helping her, too, yet she couldn’t imagine how. The one thing she could never do was stoop to asking for money. Naturally, she wouldacceptit if offered, but she would never lower herself by asking.
Besides, how could she ask anything of him while appearing so bedraggled, like something the cat dragged in? After all, Hargrove looked in shabby shape despite his dry hat, so she could only imagine how wretched was her own appearance. She wished she’d never thought dipping in the sea would be a good way to attract a man.
True, Lord Dodd had expressed an interest, but it had cost her greatly to secure a dance later that evening.Almost her life!And she couldn’t go anywhere that night unless she paid the hotel concierge extra to supply her a hot bath. Her account at the Old Ship was growing to dizzying heights.
She spared her rescuer another glance. Lord Hargrove was whistling to fill the silence in his quaint, off-key manner. And then she had a most outrageous and wonderful thought.
“How many bedrooms do you have in your rented house, my lord?”
“Three,” he answered without hesitation, before swinging his attention to her. “Why?”
“Do you have plenty of hot water?” she asked.
“Hot water?” He looked perplexed.
“Yes, for baths and such. The inn is woefully short of it. I fear if I have another cold bath, I shall become ill.” She coughed delicately before adding, “You may have noticed my delicate health of late.”
Frowning, he nodded. “I wondered at your pale complexion and your fainting spells. At first I attributed both to a lack of appetite. However, when I saw you eat so heartily, I knew it wasn’t lacking, merely being ignored.”
“Not ignored.” Glynnis coughed again and looked at him from under her lashes. “I haven’t felt well enough to eat at the proper hours. I am entirely unsettled. And the inn is drafty.”
“That’s a pity. I will speak with the manager if you wish. I’m sure we can get you a hot bath.”
“Perhaps,” she mused, then cocked her head. “I was just thinking that you have so much space while I have only a room. If I were to move into your house, I could have all the comforts of home and remain under your protection as the Prince Regent requested.”
