“I do, but at this moment, my favorite place is here with you.”
Glynnis took a breath.Was Lord Hugh Dodd going to be her husband?
When they were indoors, he began tending to her needs at once. It was warm so he found her a spot by the open window of the tea-room being used as a reception room before the dancing started. Luckily, there was no tea, only champagne and lemonade for those who didn’t imbibe. And Lord Dodd went off in search of a couple of glasses for them while guests were still arriving.
And then after a minute, she spied Hargrove, his head above others and his fine-looking face causing her insides to do an odd flip.
It was followed by a wave of resentment, for despite what he’d said the night before, he was, in fact, escorting Isabelle Montrose. And every eye turned to take in the woman’s stunning appearance.
While Glynnis knew her own gown of green silk trimmed with silver ribbon was pretty, it wasn’t eye-catching in the way Isabelle’s was. For one thing, Glynnis would vow the lady wasn’t wearing a petticoat or a chemise under the diaphanous light golden dress. As she walked, hermons Veneriskept appearing at the apex of her thighs, and from behind, Glynnis was certain she could see the shadow of the crack between her buttocks.
Close up, Isabelle’s nipples must surely be on display. Knowing how Hargrove appreciated a woman’s breasts, it was no wonder he’d hardly glanced her way. In any case, she feared she could not compete, even with her fashionably low décolletage.
Then she wondered at her own ridiculous wish to compete at all. She’d had him between her legs the night before, after all.
But would Isabelle have him in her bed that night?
Firmly taking hold of her wild imaginings, she forced her attention to return to Lord Dodd, gratefully accepting the champagne he offered her.
“You are precisely the type of person I’ve been looking for,” he said, surprising her.
“Type?” she asked. “You meanfemale.”
They both laughed. “I mean witty, amusing, and, of course, beautiful. And top it all off, you’re a viscount’s daughter with all the benefits, I imagine, befitting your status. No wonder your fiancé seeks to bind you to him. I cannot fathom, however, why he would let you come alone to Brighton. Are you sure he isn’t a madman?”
“Quite certain, my lord. Yet there are many suitable ladies on the marriage mart. I saw them for myself last Season. Why haven’t you snapped up one for yourself?”
He raised his gaze upward, as if hard put upon. Then he looked into her eyes.
“Somehow, I didn’t see you in time” he said. “And now it’s too late. Having kept company with you, I fear now I shall never marry.”
She appreciated his manners, although he overdid the flattery.
His gaze fixed momentarily just past her left shoulder. “Maybe Isabelle will not be as unlucky as I am, nor come away from Brighton empty-handed.”
Glynnis turned and realized he was watching Hargrove and Miss Montrose with their heads a little too close, discussing something private. She glanced back at Lord Dodd.
“Is your aunt—?”
“By marriage,” he amended.
“Is she looking to make a match?”
“Mayhap, yes. If she found the right man, I suppose. Why not?”
They both looked again toward Isabelle and Hargrove. Glynnis frowned.Had they somehow got even closer?They were behaving almost indecently.
Glynnis hoped the discomfiting claw of jealousy that gripped her heart was easily vanquished. It was unpleasant, not to mention futile. She had tried that path twice, and twice been thwarted.
Whereas Lord Dodd had practically declared he would marry her if she weren’t already engaged. She might not even have to get him into a compromising situation because he’d stated he wouldn’t be adverse toward being her fiancé.
Hargrove hadn’t had anything bad to say about the man, not the way he had about Lord Cumberry, Lord Leilton, or even the married Lord Staunton, all with their egregious character flaws. Although to be fair, she and Hargrove hadn’t really had much of a conversation about Lord Dodd, especially not while the viscount was kissing her senseless.
She looked at Lord Dodd again. He had gray-blue eyes and blond hair. Good cheekbones, too. Nothing round or pudding-faced about him. Instead of taking him for granted while mooning over Hargrove and sending Isabelle glaring looks of thunder, Glynnis knew she must pay the man better attention.
The Prince Regent chose that moment to enter the reception room. The cheering began as usually accompanied his appearance. For when Prince George arrived at a party, there was always the promise of a good time, high quality food, and plenty of wine.
“Do you know the Regent personally?” Lord Dodd asked her.
