“There’s Mrs. Fitzherbert,” Glynnis pointed out, seeing that impressive lady strolling along in front of them, past the row of the most expensive shops. As a year-round resident since 1804 with such close ties to the Prince Regent, shopkeepers probably didn’t dare charge her more when her former “husband” was in residence at the Pavilion.
“Why don’t you see if you can get her to put in a good word for you? Isn’t that how royal influence usually works? You go to those who have the prince’s ear rather than to the prince himself.”
He stared at her. “By Jove, I believe you’re getting the hang of all this lickspittle toady nonsense.”
She laughed. “Do you think you can charm Mrs. Fitzherbert?”
He cocked his head. “You’re a woman. Doyouthink I can?”
Heat rushed to her core. “Most certainly, my lord.”
Their gazes locked and held for the span of many moments until a couple had trouble getting around them on the pavement. Stepping aside, Glynnis dragged her thoughts from how much she admired Hargrove back to the task on North Street.
“Come, maybe I can help, too. At least, you won’t be a single man accosting her.”
Nodding, they fell into step, trailing along behind the prince’s former wife and mistress.
“Tell her about the best pieces you have and where you think—” Glynnis broke off.
“Is something the matter?”
When Mrs. Fitzherbert had slowed down and turned to look in a shop window, Glynnis received a nasty shock.
“She has my parasol!”
Chapter Fifteen
“Nonsense,” Hargrovesaid. “Put whatever you’re thinking right out of your pretty head. You’re here to help me charm the woman, remember? If you get in wrestling match with her, we shall both be sunk.”
“I know my own property,” Glynnis insisted.
Mrs. Fitzherbert was twirling her white silken umbrella while bending low to peer at something in the jeweler’s window.
“Maybe it simply looks like yours, just like the last one.” He glanced around. “See for yourself. Every one I see is the same.” He gestured to others walking around them.
But the viscount was wrong. True, her parasol was the same white mulberry silk lined with white tussore silk as nearly every woman’s on the street. However, it didn’t have an ivory or bone ferrule, but rather a shiny brass tip, which she was plainly visible along with its fetching tan-colored tassels. The two of them whipped around in a dizzying dance.
