What strange creatures men were!
Without bothering to answer, she turned and walked out, down the stairs and back onto the Steyne. She was exactly where she had begun when she’d first arrived in Brighton, no worse for the experience, except she’d run out of money. She’d wasted all her precious time on Lord Dodd.
Tomorrow, she had to settle up with the Old Ship and decide what to do.What a sorry plight she was in!
Ahead of her were two ladies wandering along, and Glynnis almost called out to them since they seemed to be going her way. Then she realized they were harlots, and one was the frowsy blonde in which Hargrove had shown an interest the first night.
Other people were out, too, on this pleasant evening, but they were mostly couples. There were also a few young bucks who took notice of her, perhaps mistaking her for a lightskirt. Viscounts’ daughters didn’t walk alone after sundown in evening dress, looking shiftless and with nowhere to go.
Thus, she caused her footsteps to become purposeful, passing the trollops who had stopped at the corner. They tittered when she went by, and for a moment, Glynnis wondered if they were more fortunate, more intelligent than she. After all, they were selling themselves as she’d hoped to do. Whereas she was offering her body for a lifetime as a wife, they only had to give theirs for an hour, maybe less, although there was little security in their precarious positions.
Sadly, presently, she had even less. At least they had enough money to keep a roof over their heads on the Steyne, not to mention companionship. She had neither. Even if she started selling packets of shells for the popular passion ofshelling, with genteel ladies in London fixing shells to frames, vases, and even their hats, it would be too late. She needed assistance immediately.
Which was why when she reached the Marine Parade, she turned left instead of right, toward Hargrove’s home instead of the Old Ship.
For the second time that night, she stood upon a nobleman’s doorstep. Taking a deep and steadying breath, Glynnis knocked.
Chapter Seventeen
When Hargrove’s butleropened the door, Glynnis faltered. Uninvited and standing on the doorstep about to ask whether the man’s employer was home, she felt like little more than a bedizened beggar in fancy dress.
Immediately, the man stepped back. “Miss Talbot, do come in. Lord Hargrove is at home.”
How kind of him to remember her and to give her entrance!
“Mr. Sparks, isn’t it?”
“Yes, miss. This way.” And as a proper butler would do for a proper young lady, even onewithouta chaperone, he led her up the stairs to the formal drawing room.
“I will tell his lordship you’re here.”
“He’s not expecting me,” she confessed.
Mr. Sparks barely faltered in his step. “I understand, miss.” And he disappeared.
Glancing at the sofa, recalling what she’d just seen, she opted for the gray winged-back chair. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes. Instantly, Isabelle’s face —and her breasts!— and Lord Dodd’s bucking hips came to mind, and Glynnis could almost hear the moans and groans.
