He grabbed at an ottoman and pulled it forward. “Allow me to assist you to a seat.”
Lady Cordelia looked vaguely in Lord Poppin’s direction, almost as if she were attempting to locate where his voice was coming from. Seeming to home in on it, she smiled and said, “That is quite all right, Lord Poppin.”
Then she walked right into the ottoman.
Or over it, as the case really was.
She stumbled, then tumbled onto the ottoman, before rolling to the carpet and coming to a stop.
Percival pushed Lord Poppin out of the way. “Lady Cordelia! Are you hurt?” he said, propping her up.
Naturally, when one tripped over an ottoman in a duke’s drawing room during a country party, every person in that room must gasp and hurry forward.
“Stay back and give the lady air,” Percival said in a sharp voice.
Lady Cordelia looked somewhat dazed and her glasses rested askew on her nose.
“Goodness, where did that piece of furniture come from?” she asked.
Nobody answered, least of all Lord Poppin, who was just now slipping to the back of the crowd.
“Allow me to help you to your feet, Lady Cordelia.”
“Yes, do, thank you,” she said.
Percival lifted her up, freeing her from her encounter with the blasted ottoman, and set her on her feet.
As soon as her two feet landed on the floor, she cried out and picked up one of them.
“I am afraid you have hurt your ankle,” he said.
The duchess had pushed through with the duke close behind. “Gracious, you poor dear. I will send for the doctor this instant.”
“Oh no, I am sure it must be all right,” Lady Cordelia said.
“Can you put any weight on it?” the duke asked.
Lady Cordelia gingerly put her foot down, but it was not more than a second before she pulled it up again. “I am afraid not.”
“That’s settled,” the duke said. “Graves, send for Doctor Raythorn. Drag him from his bed if necessary. Harveston, carry the lady to her rooms. Miss Mayton? Where are you, good lady?”
Miss Mayton pushed her way forward.
“Miss Mayton, you will follow Harveston and see that Lady Cordelia is comfortably settled as we await the doctor. Raise the ankle with pillows and I will send up a strong drink to assist with the pain.”
“I am not in that terrible a pain,” Lady Cordelia said.
“Nonsense, my lady,” the duke said, “you are as white as a sheet.”
It was true. Lady Cordelia was looking very pale. That idiot Lord Poppin! What was he about, dragging furniture in front of people?
“Harveston?” the duke said.
Percival swept Lady Cordelia up in his arms while the duke cleared the path forward shouting, “Make way, we are coming through.”
As he made his way to the staircase with Miss Mayton fluttering round him like a panicked bird, Lady Cordelia said, “Goodness, I do not like to make so much trouble.”
“Nonsense, it was Popinjay’s fault. He might talk a good story about a murderous whale, but it ishewho is the real menace.”
