The lady exclaimed and stepped back in fright. When she didn’t relinquish her hold, the tassel broke off in Glynnis’s hand
“Oh!” she exclaimed at the same time as the woman. “I love these tassels.” Her fury rose at the damage, even though she’d caused it herself.
“Bertram!” the woman yelled, far more loudly than Glynnis could have imagined. Perhaps the sea air did strengthen one’s lungs as it was purported.
“Just let me have it back,” Glynnis told her. “Even with the loss of a tassel, I want my parasol.”
“Miss Talbot,” Hargrove warned again, But Glynnis didn’t look at him.
The woman’s eyes widened. Slowly, with her gaze snapping between Glynnis and Hargrove, she started to back away.
“Bertram!” she screamed again.
Glynnis made another lunge for it, but the well-dressed lady used it as a foil. Like a prize fencer, she thrust it toward Glynnis’s stomach before she turned to dash across the Marine Parade.
Glynnis moved to follow but Hargrove’s arms came around her.
“Stop this at once. Even if it’s yours, your dignity must be worth more.”
Sadly, at that moment, her dignity was as valuable as her only parasol, given the strong coastal sun. Thinking quickly, she relaxed in his arms, enjoying for a moment the feel of him at her back, solid and comforting. However, as soon as he loosened his hold, she slipped easily from his grasp, chasing after her quarry who had already crossed the boulevard and was racing toward one of the four-story homes.
Its door opened under an ocean-facing balcony trimmed in cast-iron railings, and a man, probably Mr. Bertram, stepped out.
Glynnis was undeterred by the doubling of her foes. As the lady closed the parasol, beginning to tell the man her troubles, Glynnis simply reached out and snatched it by its straight wooden handle.
Wooden? Oh dear!
She stared at it, unable to believe what she was seeing. Sighing, she looked up into the shocked faces of the couple.
“This isn’t my parasol,” Glynnis mused aloud.
“Of course not,” the lady said. “How could it be?”
Hargrove arrived at her side. “Please excuse my ... friend. She’s had too much sun, as you noted earlier.” Then he turned to her. “Give it back, Miss Talbot. Now.”
Glynnis, her cheeks burning, tried to hand the silk umbrella back to the lady, but she flinched, lifted her chin, and went inside.
Hargrove took it from her and gently handed it to the stunned gentleman.
“And this,” Glynnis added, giving the man the torn tassel. “Please give your wife my sincere apologies,” she said, her voice raspy with humiliation.
The man still said not a word, staring down at the tassel in his palm as Hargrove grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away.
“Leave them in peace,” he ordered.
“I’m terribly sorry,” she called over her shoulder. Then she said to him, “Well, it certainly looked like mine.”
His face was set in stone until they’d walked a few hundred feet, and then he turned to her, a mirth-filled expression.
“The look on that man’s face!” And the viscount started to laugh.
Glynnis was glad he wasn’t angry with her, but she still didn’t have her ivory-handled parasol with its fashionable twin tassels.
“Perhaps you should send the lady a basket of apples or some flowers to make amends,” he said.
She cringed, thinking of the cost. Then she smiled at him.
“If you wish to do so on my behalf that would be most welcome.”
