“From whatever comes next. In truth, I am not sure. I have never been quite so low.” She looked down at the soiled gown. “I cannot afford to stay another night, yet I cannot afford passage home.”
“Besides, what would your fiancé think if you left now?” James reminded her, not sure why but reluctant to have her leave. Then he realized why. He would miss her presence in Brighton and had imagined he would be the first to go.
She gave another short laugh sounding more despondent than happy. Rising to his feet, he reached out his hand. They could speak more comfortably in the drawing room. But she hesitated and looked at the table.
“Aren’t there other courses to come, my lord, and what about dessert?”
It was James’s turn to laugh, and he did, then he went back to his seat and nodded to the footman, who had remained plastered against the wall, forgotten. And the meal commenced with a dish of mackerel seasoned with fennel and mint. Next came a fine roasted chicken and roasted vegetables bathed in a rich butter sauce.
James watched her enjoying every bite while letting her chat in between mouthfuls, and he considered the options. He hadn’t known her long, and what he knew of her wasn’t exactly innocent. She’d tried to trap him and then had been perfectly free with herself despite being engaged. And she’d let him kiss her soundly on more than one occasion and nearly tup her in her hotel room.
So why, after the last savory course had been cleared away and dessert was imminent, did he find himself making her an offer?
“If you wish, you may stay in my spare bedroom.”
She gasped, apparently taking in a drop of the wine she was sipping, then coughed and recovered. Still, when she looked at him, her eyes were wide, not to mention a little red from crying as was her nose. Yet somehow, she was still beautiful.
What was wrong with him?
James ought to rescind the offer at once He ought to pay for her to stay at the Old Ship, but a lady remaining there alone without a private bathroom or kitchen staff or even a helpful maid seemed brutish of him to force upon her.
Finally, Miss Talbot said, “Yes, I would like that very much. And I am beyond grateful.”
He didn’t need or want her gratitude. That could spell trouble with a capital K-I-S-S!
“Very well,” he said before he could change his mind. “After dinner, I’ll return to the hotel, pay your bill, and bring your things.”
“I must pack them myself. I have stuff everywhere, all over the room, stockings drying on the windowsill and a shift hanging over the chair and—”
She broke off at his expression.
“I don’t need a list of your unmentionables.” No, he didn’t because then he pictured her in only her stockings or with her shift raised to her...
“We shall go together then,” he compromised as the dessert of meringue floating in cream sauce with fresh berries arrived before each of them. “You may pay while I ... I mean, I will pay your account while you collect your things.”
Dammit!Now he was flustered like a youth about to be alone with his first female.
“I’ll wait for you in the hotel foyer,” he added.
Miss Talbot ate her dessert with her usual gusto and without any further tears, while James slowed down. He hadn’t lost his appetite exactly, but he certainly felt the weight of trepidation. She was desirable, practically irresistible. But resist, he would. He liked to think of himself as a rake with honor, and since she was putting herself in a tremendously vulnerable position through no fault of her own, he would not take advantage.
Soon, they’d settled her account to the shilling, just as she’d said, claimed her things, and were walking conspicuously back along the Marine Parade. He nodded to other couples as if it were the most natural thing in the world to stroll along carrying a carpet bag with a footman behind hoisting a trunk upon his shoulder. And Miss Talbot held only her parasol and a reticule.
“I’m so relieved,” she said.
“Yes, you’ve said that.”
In fact, she had stated it about ten times already, and he could only imagine the strain that had been firmly resting on her slender shoulders. Her brother should be shot. Her father should be shot. Her fiancé, too, should be shot. Everyone deserved a good shooting as far as he was concerned.
And this jubilant, dazzling beauty walked beside him and up the steps into his home as if she owned the place.
He looked heavenward. It was time for brandy.
’Zounds!He could hardly go off to the small study in the rented house and drink brandy alone and leave her without company in the drawing room.
“Do you like brandy?”
“Yes, I do. After the first sip,” she said.
