The doctor snorted. “If my sources told no tales, what you will miss is the great crashing of boats. I’m quite looking forward to it.”
“But Doctor,” Miss Mayton said, “certainly there would be no harm if Lady Cordelia were to watch the regatta from the window?”
The doctor considered the idea. “It could be done, but carefully. If she were helped there, hopping on the good foot, and then using that ottoman over there to prop it up. Well, for a limited time, I suppose it could not hurt.”
“I will arrange it all,” Miss Mayton said. “I will stay up here and provide company.”
Cordelia sighed. Watching from the window would not be ideal, but at least she would be able to see Lord Harveston.
Perhaps he might see her too. She could wave to him.
In the meantime, she would direct her thoughts away from her injury. Though really, they did not need to be directed. Even as the doctor spoke, Cordelia could think of little beyond having found herself in Lord Harveston’s arms.
With any luck, she would find herself there again sometime soon.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Percival had beenup early. He’d been dressed and sent Jameston to the village to see about a teacher for Mrs. Macklethorpe.
He understood from the doctor that Lady Cordelia’s ankle was sprained, not broken. That was very good news.
On the not so good news front had been the doctor’s orders that she must be abed for at least three days.
As he sat in the drawing room with a book, he’d almost managed to forget about that blasted regatta. Though, he had been gratified to know from Miss Mayton finding him there that Lady Cordelia would be watching from a window.
Now, crowds of villagers had begun to gather on the edges of the lake and the ladies were led to their viewing spot on a gently rising bank.
He turned to look up at the house, attempting to spot Lady Cordelia’s window.
The sun was against him and all he could see was a glare on the panes of glass.
It was no use, he wouldn’t have a chance to spot her until the sun moved behind the trees or some of the fast-moving high clouds ran over it.
The duke had gathered all his sailors together. Behind him, Percival could hear Lord Popinjay come to the conclusion of his whale story. Or, he should say whales, as now there weretwoof the behemoths attempting to kill him.
Percival turned and stared at him and the tale came to a rather abrupt end.
“My friends,” the duke said, “we are poised to have a roaring regatta. As you can see for yourselves, we are in for a real spot of luck—the wind is absolutely cracking today.
Unfortunately, the duke told no tales. The wind had been picking up since noon.
Percival could see small white caps on the lake, which he certainly had not seen on the other days.
Though the duke was delighted about it, Percival was not.
At least the rowers, those hardy fellows who would row out and pick somebody up who’d landed in the lake and eventually tow their boat back to shore looked unconcerned with the state of things.
Percival suspected they were on the verge of a busy day.
The duke was helped onto a stage that had been hastily constructed at water’s edge. “People of the county,” he said loudly, “welcome to the first Castleton Regatta!”
There were the usual enthusiastic shouts from men who were happy to drink the duke’s ale for whatever reason.
“As you can see, we have marked out the course with the starting line at this end of the lake, going round the two buoys there, and then turning back for a race to the finish! While I do not condone betting, I understand Mr. Kretcher has got something going.”
Percival watched in some amazement as the men of the neighborhood turned on mass and besieged Mr. Kretcher and his bet book. How on earth would they know who to bet on?
“Gentlemen!” the duke cried, now looking rather red in the face. “To the boats!”
