was very young. That was piquant; he had never been in love with a woman younger than himself before.
She grimaced. ‘Oh yes, we must go to Brighton because His Royal Highness is at Brighton. I wish His Highness anywhere than at Brighton, I can tell you.’
‘Thank you for the information. But why are you so set against His Highness’s coming here?’
‘Because if he weren’t here I shouldn’t be here, and if Iweren’t here I shouldn’t have met …’ She stopped.
‘A chance stranger on a beach?’
She burst out laughing; she had very pretty teeth. ‘Oh, I wasn’t thinking of you .’
‘How cruel of you .’
‘Why should it be cruel? I don’t know you.’
‘We are going to change that, are we not?’
‘Are we?’ She was on her feet, for as he had spoken he had made an effort to take her hand. But she was too quick for him. She turned gracefully on her toes – not easy on the shingle, and poised for flight looked over her shoulder at him. He was on his feet.
‘You are not going?’
‘But I am. Goodbye … stranger.’
‘But …’
‘But I may be here tomorrow … at the same time … if I can get away.’
She ran off swiftly.
A rather amusing adventure, he thought, as he walked back to Grove House.
Her name was Lottie, she told him; but she would tell him no more. Where was she staying? Where did she live?
‘Women,’ she answered pertly, ‘should be mysterious. I’m not very old, but I know that.’
‘You succeed in being very mysterious.’
‘Tell me, do you know the Prince of Wales?’
‘I would say I was on reasonably good terms with that gentleman.’
‘Then doubtless you know my guardian.’
‘Tell me his name.’
She shook her head. ‘Oh, no, I daren’t do that.’
‘Dare not? Why?’
She was mischievous suddenly. ‘It would spoil the mystery.’ Then she was suddenly in tears. She was afraid they were going to marry her to an old man … a rich old man. He was a suitable match and she hated him and what was she going to do about it? What could she do?
‘You could run away,’ said the Prince.
‘How?’ She was all excitement; and suddenly, so was he.
Why not? Her guardian was at Brighton. Someone in his entourage? Suppose he set her up in a little house. There should be no obstacle. He knew enough of her to realize that she was not of the nobility; perhaps her guardian as she called him – or her, perhaps – had a post in his household. In that case the aforesaid guardian could be made to realize that the patronage of the Prince of Wales could be as comforting as marriage with a rich old man.
‘We could elope,’ suggested the Prince.
‘Oh, how, when?’
It would not be impossible. Suppose he had a post-chaise waiting for her? All she would have to do was slip away as she did when she came to the beach and into the chaise where her lover would be waiting for her. He would give the order to drive and they would go away … together. She would be out of danger.
She was excited about the plan; but, she declared mournfully, her guardian would be watchful of her; she would never escape.
He would have a footman’s uniform procured for her; she could put it on and leave her guardian’s residence disguised in it.
She was enchanted with the idea and clasped her hands with excitement. She agreed to meet him the following night and complete their plans.
But the next night she did not appear; and the Prince then realized how diverted he had been by this adventure, and how depressed he would be if it came to nothing. He was growing a little weary of Lady Melbourne; Mrs Billington had long since begun to pall; Mrs Crouch, another actress, was a real beauty but she drank to such excess that she smelled like a wine shop and the Prince did find this repulsive, particularly after Major Hanger had said that her throat smelt like a smoking chimney.
But his little nymph of the beach was fresh and lovely, and he would be wretched if he lost her.
For two nights
She grimaced. ‘Oh yes, we must go to Brighton because His Royal Highness is at Brighton. I wish His Highness anywhere than at Brighton, I can tell you.’
‘Thank you for the information. But why are you so set against His Highness’s coming here?’
‘Because if he weren’t here I shouldn’t be here, and if Iweren’t here I shouldn’t have met …’ She stopped.
‘A chance stranger on a beach?’
She burst out laughing; she had very pretty teeth. ‘Oh, I wasn’t thinking of you .’
‘How cruel of you .’
‘Why should it be cruel? I don’t know you.’
‘We are going to change that, are we not?’
‘Are we?’ She was on her feet, for as he had spoken he had made an effort to take her hand. But she was too quick for him. She turned gracefully on her toes – not easy on the shingle, and poised for flight looked over her shoulder at him. He was on his feet.
‘You are not going?’
‘But I am. Goodbye … stranger.’
‘But …’
‘But I may be here tomorrow … at the same time … if I can get away.’
She ran off swiftly.
A rather amusing adventure, he thought, as he walked back to Grove House.
Her name was Lottie, she told him; but she would tell him no more. Where was she staying? Where did she live?
‘Women,’ she answered pertly, ‘should be mysterious. I’m not very old, but I know that.’
‘You succeed in being very mysterious.’
‘Tell me, do you know the Prince of Wales?’
‘I would say I was on reasonably good terms with that gentleman.’
‘Then doubtless you know my guardian.’
‘Tell me his name.’
She shook her head. ‘Oh, no, I daren’t do that.’
‘Dare not? Why?’
She was mischievous suddenly. ‘It would spoil the mystery.’ Then she was suddenly in tears. She was afraid they were going to marry her to an old man … a rich old man. He was a suitable match and she hated him and what was she going to do about it? What could she do?
‘You could run away,’ said the Prince.
‘How?’ She was all excitement; and suddenly, so was he.
Why not? Her guardian was at Brighton. Someone in his entourage? Suppose he set her up in a little house. There should be no obstacle. He knew enough of her to realize that she was not of the nobility; perhaps her guardian as she called him – or her, perhaps – had a post in his household. In that case the aforesaid guardian could be made to realize that the patronage of the Prince of Wales could be as comforting as marriage with a rich old man.
‘We could elope,’ suggested the Prince.
‘Oh, how, when?’
It would not be impossible. Suppose he had a post-chaise waiting for her? All she would have to do was slip away as she did when she came to the beach and into the chaise where her lover would be waiting for her. He would give the order to drive and they would go away … together. She would be out of danger.
She was excited about the plan; but, she declared mournfully, her guardian would be watchful of her; she would never escape.
He would have a footman’s uniform procured for her; she could put it on and leave her guardian’s residence disguised in it.
She was enchanted with the idea and clasped her hands with excitement. She agreed to meet him the following night and complete their plans.
But the next night she did not appear; and the Prince then realized how diverted he had been by this adventure, and how depressed he would be if it came to nothing. He was growing a little weary of Lady Melbourne; Mrs Billington had long since begun to pall; Mrs Crouch, another actress, was a real beauty but she drank to such excess that she smelled like a wine shop and the Prince did find this repulsive, particularly after Major Hanger had said that her throat smelt like a smoking chimney.
But his little nymph of the beach was fresh and lovely, and he would be wretched if he lost her.
For two nights
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