Chapter Eighteen
James jumped up fromhis chair and came around the corner of the table. Drawing out her chair, he squatted down before her.
“Please Miss Talbot, don’t cry.”
She snatched up the napkin from her lap and used it as a handkerchief.
“Why not? You’ve got it all out of me. Yes, I am in financial distress. To put it plainly, my lord, I am at low tide. While my brother makes ducks and drakes at the gaming hells, the devil himself may dance in my pockets they are so empty.”
The absurdity of a beautiful lady in an evening gown talking about her empty pockets and wiping her tears caused a flash of anger to tear through James. Of course, he knew how the world worked and that she couldn’t earn money. He also knew how an heir could be a profligate spendthrift. But he couldn’t fathom her parents allowing their only daughter to fall to this fate of insecurity.
“Your parents seem woefully negligent,” he said softly, hoping it didn’t make her start crying again.
She hung her head. “They didn’t know how dreadful it was in London. I tried my best, and I thought I could...,” she trailed off, sniffed, and then started again. “I thought I might start over in Bath, but that wasn’t to be. Then I recalled the Prince Regent’s birthday and knew he was planning to come here this year. So I thought I would...,” again she trailed off.
“Await Lord Aberavon here in sunny Brighton,” he supplied.
She looked at him and blinked her lovely eyes. “Precisely.”
“I suppose it’s as nice a place as any, less rainy than Bath and without the dreaded slip-slops.” He hoped he could lighten her mood with a little jest.
She shrugged. “I can no longer afford even gruel. Nor can I pay the entire bill at the Old Ship, which is due tomorrow. I’m a shilling or two short.”
“A shilling or two?” he asked, believing her because he now knew her to be careful with money and particular down to the penny. “What will you do now?”
She looked away, pursed her lips, and said nothing.
He recalled their first meeting and how she’d wolfed down the sandwiches.
“I am sorry I left you with the bill from the café.”
Her gaze swung back to him and, wonder of wonders, she laughed, a lovely sound despite the situation.
“I was annoyed when you did it,” she admitted, “but it doesn’t matter now. That small coin wouldn’t save me from—”
“From what?” he demanded.
