His smile died thinking of Glynnis and Payton.
“No, Your Highness. I’m going to pack the art back into its crates.”
Prinny shook his head. “You’ve become like a fussy old woman. That can wait. Come with me.”
James heard the order in the prince’s tone. He would go and be tormented by his own longing.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Or should the sportive Race thy fancy fill,
East of the Town, across the sunny hill,
Princes, and peers, jockey and rural swain,
All sorts and ranks, make up the motley train.
–Brighton. A Poemby Mary Lloyd, 1809
THE MURMURINGS ANDsmall cheers that arose when the prince arrived at the racecourse drew Glynnis’s attention. Although the event was crowded, she and Lord Payton were not far from the royal tent, where chairs had been set up to shade His Royal Highness.
Immediately she spotted James. While not realizing she’d been watching and waiting, her gaze fixed upon his tall, handsome figure as he strode in with the Regent and his hangers-on.
Instead of taking a seat, James distanced himself from the others and began to meander around the edge of the track.
She was well aware when James passed by. Even though she turned so he couldn’t see her fascinated glance, her skin prickled in awareness, knowing he had noticed her.
Earlier, Lord Payton had taken her for a scenic drive before they’d arrived at the track. He was good company, told interesting stories, looked at her with a warmth and vitality in his brown eyes, and with interest in her person, too.
So why did she keep thinking of James?
Knowing he was there, it was all she could do to focus on the racing. However, when Lord Payton placed a bet on a horse for her, she found it easier to focus her attention. Caught up in the excitement when people started cheering just before the finish, she welcomed her companion’s next words.
“You have won, Miss Talbot.”
“Have I?” she exclaimed. “How wonderful! Thank you!” She clapped her hands, wishing she could hug him.
