The Tainted Snuff Box Read Free Page B

moment his carriage arrived.  You see, his love of Brighton had brought the town from a quiet, sleepy hamlet into a fashionable resort.  Hostesses vied for the privilege of having the Prince as a guest at their tables.
    Mrs. Johnstone was no exception to this rule.  Expense had not been a consideration in the lavish evening prepared for his Royal Highness and a few dozen exalted guests.  A quartet of musicians soothed aristocratic senses, and every available variety of flowers perfumed the air.  Wax candles illuminated the rich scene in the Johnstones’ ornately furnished drawing room where the ladies glowed in gowns of silk, satin, and velvet, and sparkled with emeralds, sapphires, and diamonds.  The gentlemen present had, for the most part, adopted the fashion I have brought into style of dark coat, crisply starched linen neckcloth, and evening breeches.
    “Brummell!  You have arrived in Brighton at last.”
    Turning at the sound of my name, I saw my friend Lord Perry, accompanied by his charming wife.  Lady Perry had recently discovered she was expecting their first child.
    Perry clapped me on the back.  A wealthy earl, he is a dark-haired, well-favored man, known among the ladies before his marriage as “The Greek God.”  He emulates my simple style of dressing to a nicety.  As he is a gentleman of sense in every respect, I often seek his opinions.
    Lady Perry, a petite brunette, wore a malachite-green gauze gown with a front panel of matching velvet.  The waist was high, and the sleeves long and tight.  She also wore a brave smile, but I detected an absence of the colour that normally graced her pretty cheekbones.  Devoted to his wife, Perry had brought her to Brighton from London, hoping the relative calm of the seaside town would ease what was proving to be a discomfiting, though welcome, pregnancy.
    “Just toddled in today, Perry.”  I smiled and bowed over his wife’s hand.  “Lady Perry, your beauty overwhelms my senses.  If you were not in a delicate condition, I would beg you to abandon this brute and flee with me to foreign shores.  I would have a boat ready at the Brighton docks in the morning.”
    She chuckled, sneaking a look under her lashes to see the effect this banter had on her husband.  Not quite satisfied with the depth of his frown, she said, “I daresay he would not notice my absence for hours, so engrossed is he in examining the particular method the cellist has in plying his bow.”
    Perry, whose affinity for all things musical was the only rival for his wife’s attention, took these taunts in good humour.  “My love, although the wisdom of leaving me for Brummell could be a topic for debate, a more pressing question might be how comfortable you would be on a sailing craft of any kind.  No less in the morning.”
    She heaved a poignant sigh.  “I suspect you are right, Anthony.  Mr. Brummell, we must postpone our plans once more,” Lady Perry said, continuing the jest.
    “Alas, ‘tis a bitter disappointment,” I teased theatrically.
    “You are the second gentleman disappointed in his attempt to abscond with my wife, Brummell,” Perry said, a look of annoyance crossing his face.  “My cousin, Victor Tallarico, arrived in Brighton yesterday and has not ceased his attentions.”
    “Your cousin?”  I queried, vaguely recalling Perry mentioning the fellow a few times during our friendship.  “I thought he lived in Italy.”
    “He does.  My aunt married an Italian count in the diplomatic corps.  Over the years, the family has divided their time between England and Italy.  Why Victor has chosen to visit England at this particular moment, I cannot say.  He arrived at my Town house in London and was told we were here in Brighton.”  Perry nodded in the direction of a lively gentleman, dressed fashionably, but sporting a—Good God, a pink waistcoat—and whispering in the ear of a giggling blond-haired female.  “He is staying with us until some angry