Page 21 of A Perplexing Regency Romance (The League of Meddling Butlers #5)

The Betsy sailed out into the Thames as Finella held the rail.

The bargeman turned to head toward the bridge and let the sails far out.

Before he turned the boat, the bargeman pointed out the buoy that would signal the turn-around for the boats.

The racers would start at the Westminster bridge, turn around at the buoy, and then to the finish back at the bridge.

Halfway between the bridge and the buoy, the bargeman turned the boat such that the sails went limp again.

One of the crew threw an anchor over the side of the bow.

All the crew were silent, staring at the bow, until the man turned and shouted, “She’s holding!

” Then another of the crew threw a second anchor off the back of the boat.

It was rougher here than it had been at the pier and the boat gently rocked.

Finella quite enjoyed the sensation now that she was growing used to it.

It was similar to cantering on a horse. She found it was easier to stay steady when one allowed oneself to gently rock with the waves, rather than fight against them.

Finella stood at the rail, the breeze blowing the curls out from under her bonnet.

She supposed she’d look a wreck by the end of it.

She did not really mind, as it felt glorious.

There would be a reception in the evening at Carlton House for the winner of the regatta, but she and the duchess would have plenty of time to go home and change, and straighten out whatever had happened to her hair, ahead of it.

She had not, up until now, given much thought to the prince’s reception.

Her thoughts had been too taken up with wondering if she would see something yellow on the duke’s boat.

It seemed very far-fetched that Finella Fernsby was to go to Carlton House.

She had not, as of yet, set eyes on the prince, nor had she imagined she ever would.

The Duchess of Ralston, on the other hand, knew everybody and was even known at the palace.

Other barges were moving into their anchor spots. The banks of the river were filled with people wishing to view the race. The duchess claimed that a decent person was foolish to do it, as there would be more pickpockets than spectators and one would be lucky not to lose a watch or a reticule.

In the distance, on the far side of the bridge, she could see that some of the racers had already taken to the water. It was too far to see anything identifying though. For instance, anything yellow.

“Breakfast is laid, Miss Fernsby,” the duchess said, calling her to the table. “Wagner has done an admirable job as our ship’s steward.”

Finella noticed that Wagner was looking exceedingly pleased with the compliment.

She had paid close attention to how the duchess conducted herself in the house and had noticed that she handed out compliments quite often.

She very much thought it was something to emulate when the time came to manage her own household.

It seemed to her that the staff was always very eager to see that the duchess was pleased on account of it.

Finella took her place next to the duchess. Lord Packington and Lady Violet sat across from them. She was positively starved and did like a hearty breakfast, though she always wished it was not served quite as early as it was.

She had quite given up on starving herself to attempt to be less Rubenesque.

She’d tried it one day and stuck with it the entire day and night, but she spent most of the time feeling a bit woozy.

She could barely get out of bed the next morning until Lucy gave her a biscuit.

After all that suffering, she’d had nothing to show for it—she looked exactly the same.

She had realized that Finella Fernsby was as she was and there was nothing to be done about it.

She might as well go through life well fed as opposed to feeling like she was about to tip over.

As there was no sideboard, the breakfast was laid service à la Francaise.

Wagner really had done a very fine job, though nobody would have expected anything less from him.

There were no hot eggs, but rather sliced cold eggs topped with dill.

Finella helped herself to bacon, kidneys, sausages, a slice of ham, hardboiled eggs, and a buttered roll while Wagner poured her a chocolate from a tin with a towel wrapped round it.

“Goodness,” Lady Violet said softly.

Finella looked up and found Lady Violet staring at her plate. The lady herself had a single piece of dry toast on her own.

“What’s happened, Lady Violet?” the duchess asked. “Have you never seen breakfast before? Packington, are you starving your sister?”

“No, Your Grace,” Lord Packington said, blushing for his sister.

Lady Violet obviously realized she ought not have made the comment. She hurriedly said, “I cannot manage eating anything sensible on this rocking boat, is what I meant to say. Miss Fernsby is admirably immune to the movement and waves. I quite admire it.”

Finella thought there was absolutely nothing Lady Violet admired about her. She was, though, very touched by the duchesses’ spirited defense and she took heart from it. The lady might feel herself superior to Finella, but she had been notified that the duchess did not agree.

Finella smiled at Lady Violet and bit into a piece of bacon by way of response.

Wagner had set up the table for the crewman, which they seemed both surprised and pleased over. Finella bit her lip when the butler told the first fellow who approached, “Anything on this table and in that basket.” Wagner pointed to the basket Lord Packington had brought.

It was not lost on Lord Packington. Between his sister managing to annoy the duchess and Wagner’s utter disdain for his basket, Finella imagined he might have begun to wish he’d petitioned to get on somebody else’s barge.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hugh should not have been at all surprised that Seddie arrived to the house over an hour late.

He overslept, his valet overslept, a neckcloth could not be found, and on and on.

It was the usual shambles of Seddie-planning.

His butler might have roused him, knowing full well that he was running behind time.

However, that fellow had one too many experiences attempting to get Seddie out of bed, only to be met with his employer throwing everything within reach at the door.

They’d made their way to the boat as fast as was possible, though Seddie’s coachman refused to push the horses to do anything dangerous on account of his employer’s lack of organization.

Rufus had told Seddie years ago that his first loyalty was to the horses, his second was to the grooms, his third was to the equipage, and his fourth was to whatever sir or lord he served.

Seddie had not argued the point, as his coachman was rather terrifying.

By the time they got to the pier, the rest of the boats were already launched and tacking back and forth just north of the bridge that marked the start.

Lord Bestwick was visible at the top of the bridge, overseeing the operation.

Hugh saw him look in their direction and cross his arms, so he presumed Bestwick was annoyed at their late arrival.

Hugh did not blame him, he was annoyed by their late arrival too.

Hugh and Seddie threw everything they’d brought with them into the boat, including the life rings Hugh had insisted on.

They struggled to get the sails up, untied the ropes, and pushed off.

They would tack the first half of the race and sail downwind on the return.

The sails snapped to attention and the boat picked up speed as they made their way to the other boats.

He did not know precisely how much Seddie had learned about sailing since their last adventure, though his friend claimed it was an enormous amount. At least they seemed to be sailing in a relatively straight line this time.

As Hugh was not at this moment in danger of Seddie coming about, He untied the canvas bag with the yellow shawl and tied it round the bottom of the mast. He supposed that asking Miss Fernsby what her favorite color was, and then showing that same color, would say something direct about his intentions.

Those intentions were more clear than ever.

After having that lovely and soft lady in his arms to remove her from the danger of broken glass, well, he did not see what gentleman would not have firm intentions.

As he would need to stay alive to follow through on those intentions, he tied a rope through one of the life rings and the other end of it around his ankle.

Seddie looked down at his ankle. “What are you doing?”

“You know what I’m doing,” Hugh said.

His friend shrugged. Hugh looked ahead. There were five boats tacking back and forth, one containing the Duke of Barstow and the valet who always crewed for him.

Both of them were looking rather relaxed and confident.

Hugh did not know how he, himself, appeared, but he doubted it was relaxed or confident.

He did not imagine he and Seddie had even a remote chance of winning.

As far as he was concerned, the point was to survive.

Lord Bestwick was shouting out his usual speech that nobody could ever hear. In other years he’d been in a boat. This year he was high up on the bridge. It did not signify one way or another. The race would start when Bestwick stopped talking and fired his gun.

“Keep an eye on him,” Seddie said. “Tell me when he raises his gun in the air.”

Hugh craned his head. Bestwick was still talking. Then he could not see him as they’d sailed too close to the bridge.

The gunshot reverberated through the air.

“He raised his gun,” Hugh said over his shoulder.

“Coming about!” Seddie cried in his usually dramatic manner.

Hugh ducked and moved to the other side, dragging his life ring with him. The race was on.