He really must snap out of it. He was becoming a tedious boor, even to himself.
She tried again. “I suppose you also wouldn’t care to view a partly demolished medieval priory?”
“That sounds the worst of the lot, but I promise, if you come up with something interesting, I’ll accompany you.”
Sighing, she said, “I haven’t yet seen inside the prince’s stables, and believe it or not, they made it into the tour book.”
“Of course they did,” he said. “They’re truly magnificent.”
“I think Lord Cumberry said something similar.”
“Kissing Cumberry,” James remarked.
Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“He has earned the name,” he told her.
“Not with me,” she vowed.
“Because I whistled him down the wind.”
“And I thank you. So, a stroll to the stables? You can be my tour guide.”
James could see no harm in it.
“Very well. But pass me another biscuit first. Your hunger is catching, I fear. And then we’ll retrieve your new parasol and take a walk.”
Thus, James found himself again strolling the streets of Brighton with the brown-eyed minx whom he wasn’t sure about.Was she friend or foe?
“Tomorrow, we can go to the boat races,” she said, giving his arm a squeeze.
They were for all intents and purposes a couple, and it didn’t bother him the way any other similar circumstance ever had before in London.
Chapter Twenty
Or let thine eye with pleas’d attention roam,
