James felt like the butler in his own home.
Fuming, he could hardly swallow the envy that stuck like a croquet ball in his throat. Either she hadn’t remembered her offer to help him convince the difficult prince, or she no longer cared to do so. Scrunching the mail in one hand, he considered his options. He could go to the racetrack on Whitehawk Hill, on the edge of the South Downs. There, he would sit on the grass or remain atop his horse as the old grandstand had long since burned down, and no one had built a new one yet. That didn’t stop hundreds from watching the races. They were extremely popular, and Prinny was almost always in attendance.
Prinny!If James didn’t hurry over to the Pavilion with the rest of the art, the prince would head over to the track, and another day would be lost. Hoping to catch him, he garnered the assistance of Mr. Sparks and the footman to load his coach with the remaining pieces.
Yet as he set out for the Pavilion, his hopes along with his spirits were low. Strangely, Prinny invited him upstairs to his private apartment and brought out barley water instead of wine.
“Good to take a break, don’t you think?”
James agreed with him. The cold barley water was mildly sweet and refreshing.
“The ice house is one of my favorite amenities,” Prince George said after James put the chilled glass to his forehead to stave off the last of his headache.
Feeling comfortable at last, he leaned back. About to close his eyes, he recalled he was in the presence of the next King of England, and thus, tried to sit up and look alert.
“Where is your Miss Talbot today?”
James shrugged. “She’s notmyMiss Talbot, Your Highness.”
“Not to wonder after your chirping merry performance last night.”
James startled. “Whatever can you mean, sir?”
“You were trying to out-drink me. And Miss Talbot most definitely did not approve. What’s more, I noticed you left with Miss Maria, that scrumptious high-flier from Pall Mall. I cannot think why you bothered with her when she’s easily available in London. Miss Talbot seems a rarer chick-a-biddy, indeed.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Yes, what?” Prinny asked coyly.
“Yes, you’re right. I shouldn’t let a diamond fall through my fingers, certainly not for a shiny stone.”
“By the way, I’m over my fit of the blue devils regarding the Louvre, so you can stop worrying.”
James’s ears perked up, yet all he said was, “I am not worrying, Your Highness. I didn’t realize you were so upset. Your nature is to always be most calm and fair.”
Prinny laughed so hard, he turned purple.
“Then why have you been dancing attendance at every gathering?” He sipped his wine. “Maybe we’re back to Miss Talbot as the reason, eh, wot-wot?”
“In truth, sir, you know I wish only for you to be happy with the art.” Then James sighed. “Or tell me what the bloody hell to do with it.”
This time, they both laughed. Finally, Prinny yawned.
“I really don’t want anything I’ve seen so far.”
James’s heart sank.
“But I have good news for you,” Prince George continued. “Wellington wants all the Spanish paintings for Apsley House. In fact, he wanted them all along.”
James frowned. “You mean I didn’t have to bring them all this way?”
Prinny smiled, looking years younger than his age. He’d led James on a merry and cruel dance to be sure.
“I shall keep that vase you brought today. And you can take the rest back to our distinguished Wellington.”
James nodded, hoping his grin wasn’t too wide. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“Will you come with me to the racecourse? There will be hurdle races today.”
