Instead of being affronted, he laughed.
“You are always very free with my money. Did you enjoy your almond tart?” he asked by way of reminding her of his previous generosity.
She shrugged. “You have plenty, don’t you?” she challenged. If she pricked his nobleman’s pride, perhaps he would stop this pointless discussion and simply buy her a blasted silk umbrella.
But looking directly at her, he shot back, “I do, as do you. Don’t you? Or do you race through the allowance of a viscount’s daughter, like a spendthrift and now seek to go through my income as well?”
That remark was like a slap to the face.
“I assure you I am quite frugal.” He had no idea. She could squeeze a penny until it cried.
“Then you ought to have enough for a trifle like a parasol,” Hargrove persisted.
“Why are you being so unchivalrous and ungentlemanly and ... and miserly?” She was ready to stamp her foot like a child.
But he laughed again. “I am not. But you arenotmy responsibility. It would appear strange for me to be buying you presents, would it not? Where is that wretched fiancé of yours who should be buying you baubles and bonnets?”
The tears threatened again and Glynnis raised her eyes heavenward for a second. When she believed they wouldn’t spill over, she looked at him again. She wanted to tell him there was no fiancé and that she was facing the world by herself. But she couldn’t. She knew what he thought of her actions in London. If he discovered she’d lied about being engaged, he would bolt so fast, she would see nothing but a blur of breeches.
“My fiancé will be here soon enough,” she said, recalling her dinner with Lord Dodd that very evening.
In any case, for some reason, her words wiped the smile from his face.
“Will he?”
“Yes.” She looked away, tired of lying to him and to herself. “Anyway, I don’t need a parasol. My hat is doing the job perfectly and keeping my hands free.”
“To do what?” he asked, offering a sly look.
“You are incorrigible. I’m going back to my hotel,” she said.
“Not yet.” And Hargrove opened the door of Hanningtons for her. “I cannot possibly pass up ‘unusual low prices.’ Let me buy myfrienda parasol.”
***
JAMES HAD THE SUDDENand terrible notion that Miss Talbot really didn’t have any money. It would make clear why she starved herself some days and moaned over the loss of a hat or a pair of shoes or even paltry gloves, for that matter. He didn’t know any other ladies of thetonwho didn’t have a dozen of everything and yet ordered more of each on a whim.
However, she seemed truly distressed over a parasol and willing to incur the wrath of someone as powerful as Mrs. Fitzherbert, even if Prinny had moved on to sharing his bed with Lady Hertford. James would hate to see Miss Talbot given the cut direct by the Prince Regent over such a silly matter.
He would buy her a damn parasol if only to see her soft brown eyes look happy again, rather than glistening with tears.And where was that damned fiancé?Aberavon was negligent at best. Moreover, why was a viscount’s daughter traipsing around unchaperoned and perhaps with insufficient funds to her name?
He didn’t like it, not one bit.
Thus, he ushered her into the store, known for selling linens, mercery, haberdashery, and hosiery. Assuredly, it would have something to suit Miss Talbot.
“Why don’t you choose a colorful one. Green or orange, perhaps?” he suggested. Then she might not lose it so readily.
She looked at him as if he were a simpleton.
“I would need one for every gown in that case,” she said. “The best parasol is plain to match with anything at any event. Although I do like that blue one.”
He watched her linger at a dusky blue parasol with frills before taking hold of a white one. It looked similar to the one she’d almost wrested from Prinny’s one-time wife, except this one had not only two tassels but a small tassel at the end of each rib. He could see that additional bit of whimsy pleased her.
“A perfect-sized handle,” she said, wrapping her fingers around it, giving him a flash of entirely inappropriate thoughts regarding her fingers around an equally hard part of his person.
“Not too heavy so as to be tiring,” she continued, oblivious to his wildly libidinous thoughts, “not too thick as to be clumsy, nor too thin so as I might lose my grip upon it.”
His mouth dropped open slightly. James had no idea there were so many factors to choosing such a utilitarian object as an umbrella.
