by Kate Archer
She quietly sighed. The lord was gaining on Lord Hugh. They approached the second buoy and Lord Hugh suddenly went wide. Lord Lockwood passed him on the inside and surged ahead.
This could not be. Only Lord Niemore was ahead of Lord Lockwood now. It would be bad enough for her father to be beaten by the man, but if he somehow won the day? Sybil did not think her father would ever recover from it.
Behind Sybil, Lord Dalton said, “Well, whether he wins it or loses it, I suppose Lockwood cannot have much to complain about.”
“Certainly, Miss Mapleton shall congratulate him, however he fares,” Lord Ashworth said.
“Naturally she must,” Lord Cabot said. “Future filial duty and all that.”
Sybil pressed her lips together to stop herself from saying something truly vile. The gentlemen wished all and sundry to know that the engagement was now official. Of course, she had known it without being told.
Still, to hear it spoken of so casually!
Lady Blanding turned to Lord Dalton and said, “As you speak particularly loudly, I presume you do not mean your words to be secret. Do you hint there is an engagement between Lord Lockwood and Miss Mapleton?”
Sybil did not turn, and only listened intently.
“I dislike hinting, Lady Blanding,” Lord Dalton said.
Lady Blanding did not respond any further. Sybil stared at the lake, the boats crossing it furiously.
She wondered, though, why Lord Dalton had been having such a spirited exchange with Lord Lockwood only a quarter of an hour ago. She had been certain it was to dissuade him from Poppy. But now, he seemed intent on spreading the news. In fact, he seemed rather complacent about it.
She supposed she should not wonder further. The gentlemen of the pact were often inscrutable and their motives even more often impolitic. Anybody with any sense would disregard them all.
Chapter Seventeen
Richard’s boat was only yards from the last buoy, Lord Niemore just ahead of him. He now had a comfortable lead on Lord Hugh, and Lord Blanding had been left far behind—the old man was just now rounding the second buoy.
Lord Niemore rounded the final buoy. He took the turn sharply and his boat rode high.
Richard stood, grasping his tiller. Lord Niemore’s boat rode too high.
It kept rising higher and Richard could see Lord Niemore struggling to right it.
“He ought to take some wind out of his sail,” Richard said.
Lord Niemore tried to do just that, but not quick enough. His boat capsized, the sail slapping the water.
Fisherman standing by on shore launched their row boats. Richard rounded the buoy wide to avoid running into the overturned dinghy. Lord Niemore hung onto the hull with a look of disgust.
“Do you require assistance, Lord Niemore?” Richard called.
Lord Niemore waved him off and pointed to the rowboaters making their way to him.
Charlie shrugged and said, “That’s one way to get ahead of the competition—just hope they all sink themselves.”
Richard could not help but laugh. Somehow, he was in the lead. If he avoided making any mistakes, he just might win.
He let the sail all the way out to catch the wind. “Pull up the centerboard, Charlie. This is the last stretch.”
“Uh, have a look there,” Charlie said, looking over his shoulder.
Lord Blanding should have been heading for the last buoy, instead he was coming straight at them. What the devil was the man doing? Lord Hugh was ahead of his friend, and very sensibly sailing close to the wind. Lord Blanding, had he attempted to sail close, would be in no danger of encountering another boat.
When Richard noted the look on the lord’s face, he knew precisely what the old man was doing. He’d rather crash both boats than lose the bet. The man looked positively unhinged.
His idea was confirmed when Lord Hugh yelled, “Blanding! Come now, you’ll regret that sort of thing!”
Lord Blanding was intent on running them down.
“Centerboard back down and ready to come about,” Richard shouted.
He swung the boat east, narrowly escaping out of Lord Blanding’s path. Lord Blanding shook his fist as he sailed by.
Richard turned back downwind and let the sail out.
As Charlie pulled up the centerboard once more, the boat settled into an easy sail downwind. Richard said, “He would have smashed us both to pieces. I presumed he’d be put out to lose the bet, but he’s as mad as a hornet.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Charlie said, crouching in the bottom of the boat as close to the center as possible.
“Out with it,” Richard said. “Whatever you think you know or heard or surmised the what’s what of.”
Charlie leaned over the raised centerboard and ran his finger around the rags that had stopped up the hole in the side of the boat. “Flour,” he said.
“What?”
“Somebody went and put a hole in the boat and patched it with flour and water, letting it dry in the sun. Then, when we was cruising along high and that side dipped into the water, it dissolved into nothing and you got a nice big hole.”
“You do not mean to accuse…”
“Lord Blanding stared pretty hard at the rags we used to stop up the hole,” Charlie said. “Then, when he passed Lord Hugh, he said ‘rags.’ You see, Lord Hugh was mystified how you didn’t sink and Lord Blanding cleared it up for him. Them two was in cahoots.”
Richard guffawed. If Charlie was right, it was too ridiculous to contemplate. Lord Hugh and Lord Blanding going to such lengths like they were a couple of errant schoolboys? “Well, I suppose there’s nothing to be done about it,” he said.
“I don’t know about that,” Charlie said. “You might point out the thing to Lord Burke, all the while pretendin’ you don’t have the first idea who done it. It’ll spook the gentlemen, and a spooked gentleman maybe don’t have the courage to be irate over losin’ a hundred pounds, if you get my drift.”
“I do get your drift,” Richard said thoughtfully. “For now, though, let’s drift to the finish line. Against all odds, we’re going to win this blasted contest.”
“The odds were that bad, I won’t lie,” Charlie said. “Lucky for me, I put twenty pounds on you.”
“You don’t have twenty pounds!” Richard said.
“I told Mr. Davies it was Kingston layin’ the wager. Now, I reckon I got near to thirty-five pounds,” Charlie said proudly.
“Good Lord, what would you have done if we lost?”
“Pointed out to Mr. Davies that he was very foolish for believing a boy of my tender years,” Charlie said, laughing.
*
Sybil’s horror was complete. Lord Lockwood had not only beaten her father, he would win the regatta. There was no chance of any other outcome now. Lord Hugh would place second, her father third, and poor Sir Jeffrey fourth, if he managed to get back at all. Lord Niemore had been rowed to shore while fisherman in a collection of boats towed his waterlogged boat back to the dock.
Worse, she thought she’d seen her father attempt to crash into Lord Lockwood’s boat. Hopefully, she had not really seen that. It might very well have been a trick of the light, as the boats were so far away.
Poor papa. Though she had been so wholly focused on her own sorrow, now she must turn her thoughts to her father. He would be just as in need of returning to Cornwall as she was. There, he could forget about boats and lakes and go back to his fishing by the stream. There, he would get the respect that was his due. She would see to it that she buttered his toast in the morning and that his coffee was strong and all those other little things that were their habit in Cornwall. She might even purchase a hound pup from somewhere, there was nothing that so distracted him as a new dog.
As Lord Lockwood hit the shore and the crowd cheered, Lady Blanding clutched her daughter’s hand. “We shall have our work cut out for us,” she whispered.
“I know it, Mama,” Sybil said softly. “Out of respect for the
Hughs, we must get papa through the next days creditably and then we can be off. He will be in better spirits when we get home.”
Sybil watched as Lord Lockwood was congratulated all round, while her poor papa had just rounded the last buoy.
Her attention was pulled away from viewing her father’s defeat by noting Lord Burke rushing over to Lord Lockwood’s boat. There was much pointing at the rags that were stuffed in a hole in the side.
The lords Dalton, Ashworth, Cabot and Grayson made their way into the fray. Sybil’s hopes began to rise. Could it be that using rags in that manner had broken a rule? Could it be that Lord Lockwood would be disqualified?
Sybil glanced at her mama. She noted that Lady Blanding’s hopes rose in the same direction.
“Lockwood and his rags,” Lady Blanding said quietly, “let that be the undoing of him.”
Their hope, which had begun to soar so high as they watched the heated debate at the shoreline, was instantly quashed.
A man pausing to stand with his wife said, “It seems the hole was purposefully put in Lockwood’s boat. It was patched up with some sort of powder mixture, then when it hit the water it melted away.”
“Goodness,” the lady had answered. “Lord Hugh will not like to know there has been any cheating at his regatta.”
“I cannot fathom who would have done it,” the man said. “Most unsportsmanlike, very bad form.”
Sybil turned to her mother. Lady Blanding’s complexion had paled.
Dear God, she thought, please do not let it be my father who has done such a thing. He would not. No, he could not.
*
“I know it is distressing,” Lady Blanding said to her husband as they closeted themselves in their bedchamber with Sybil.
“Distressing?” Lord Blanding said with a note of incredulity. “They carried him on their shoulders, all the way back to the house, as if he were some kind of hero!”
“Yes, I did see that. But only think, it is you that will still come out ahead. The hundred pounds you won at lawn bowling is only cancelled out and you still have the twenty pounds from billiards. And all those smaller bets about raindrops and logs, I believe you won most of those. And then there is still the card game, you might trounce him at it.”
While Lady Blanding did her level best to console her husband, Lord Blanding paced the room like a caged tiger. Sybil sat curled up on a chair, having come in to show her solidarity with her father.
“How could he have won it?” Lord Blanding said. “I was assured he’d never sailed, while I have so much more experience. He never even bothered to go down to the lake and try it out! And that!” Lord Blanding said, pointing to his ponderous book on wind, “does that count for nothing?”
“He was only lucky, Papa,” Sybil said, hoping the idea of luck, rather than skill, might soothe her father’s frayed nerves.
“It seems unfair, is all I say,” Lord Blanding said. “It feels like he had some unfair advantage, though I cannot put my finger on it. If I find it out, though, I shall inform the world of it! Nobody will condone a man who cheats! Perhaps it was to do with that boy…”
Sybil watched her mama’s cheeks color at the mention of cheating. “My dear,” she said softly, “may I assume you know nothing of how the hole appeared in the side of Lord Lockwood’s boat?”
Lord Blanding stopped in his tracks. Sybil observed him closely. Her father had that same look he favored when he was on the verge of admitting to some grave mistake. The last had been when he’d explained how he’d invested in some scheme promising an eight percent return. The only person known to have collected any return at all was the scoundrel who’d dreamed up the idea and then fled with the money.
“My dear,” Lady Blanding said, understanding her husband’s silence perfectly. “What shall we do if you are discovered? It was one thing to try to run the man’s boat down, I cannot say I disapproved of the attempt as it had the sort of bold determination we Hayworths favor, but to put a hole in his boat?”
“I was not alone in the idea,” Lord Blanding said. “Lord Hugh was in on it too. We thought we’d teach that devil a lesson.”
“My darling,” Lady Blanding said quietly.
Lord Blanding puffed out his chest and said defiantly, “It was not cheating! It was sabotage!”
Sybil was mortified. What would they do if they were discovered? How would they hold their heads up?
She instantly perceived when it had happened. It had been the day her father and Lord Hugh had returned from the lake in such a jolly frame of mind and seemed to share a secret joke.
“I still cannot figure out how they knew about the flour,” Lord Blanding said. “It was meant to come off as a sudden hole, boats do that, you know. How many vessels have sunk in the North Sea from just such a circumstance… and then to have rags so conveniently on hand? It’s all very strange.”
Sybil could see that her father was talking himself round. Somehow, he was convincing himself that the entire fault lay on Lord Lockwood’s shoulders. Whatever Lord Lockwood had done, and he was guilty of quite a few crimes as far as she was concerned, he’d not put a hole in his own boat.
“And then, I am expected to attend that blasted ball and watch that scoundrel be presented with the trophy? Outrageous, we will stay to our rooms.”
“We will do no such thing,” Sybil said resolutely. “I will die of shame if this circumstance is discovered, and there will be talk if you do not appear. Talk leads to suspicion and theories and gossip. I must insist, Papa. You must attend and bring your good grace with you.”
Lady Blanding nodded approvingly at her daughter. Lord Blanding only looked surprised.
“Dear Papa,” Sybil said more kindly, “you have your way in most things, but in this you cannot. You will smile and congratulate and keep your thoughts to yourself. We will be back in Cornwall before too long and all of this will only feel as if a silly dream.”
Lord Blanding sighed. “I can see your mother sides with you on this and I do not suppose I can go up against a force so united. Very well, I will go. And congratulate, though I may choke on my words.”
*
Lady Montague poured a cup of tea for herself and set the pot down, having got used to the idea that these young gentlemen seemed to live on ale and brandy and it was useless to offer them tea.
“Lady Sybil, and Lady Blanding too, are now entirely convinced that Lockwood is engaged to Miss Mapleton,” Lord Dalton said.
“That is all well and good,” Lady Montague said, “but I hear from my boy in the house that a letter arrived from Miss Mapleton. It purports to say that she and Sir John will return in time for the ball. They are expected at seven, just in time to change their traveling clothes.”
“Then we must keep Lady Sybil far from the lady,” Lord Ashworth said, “it will not do to have Miss Mapleton declare she is not engaged to Lockwood.”
Lady Montague folded her hands. The lack of cunning in these young men continued to surprise.
“Gentlemen,” she said, “that is only one piece of the puzzle. Indeed, keep Lady Sybil busy, fill up her dance card before Lord Lockwood can get to her. But that is not all that is required. We must prevent Miss Mapleton from arriving in time. If we do not, we cannot be certain of keeping the two ladies apart. Think of it, would you follow them into the lady’s retiring room?”
From the looks on their faces, Lady Montague could see that they had not thought of all the possibilities.
“You see,” Lady Montague continued, “even if we are successful in keeping Miss Mapleton out of Lady Sybil’s way at the ball, there is still the next day to contend with. We must have Lady Sybil so ranged against Lord Lockwood that by the time she discovers there is no engagement on the following day, she would still refuse him.”
“We continue with what we’ve done so far,” Lord Dalton said. “And maybe throw in some florid compliments on Miss Mapleton’s looks. Complimenting another woman is bound to irk a lady.”
Lady Mo
ntague sighed. “Not nearly enough. You have been thrown an opportunity and yet fail to see it. You must hint that Lord Lockwood believes it was Lord Blanding who sabotaged his boat. That little chit of a girl would never forgive such a thing. We keep Miss Mapleton at a distance for as long as we can and we lure Lady Sybil into a fury with an accusation against her father. That should do it, I think.”
The lords nodded, gripped in fascination by the workings of Lady Montague’s mind.
“But how are we to stop Miss Mapleton from arriving to the ball if she is determined to come?” Lord Grayson asked.
Lady Montague delicately sipped her tea and set it down. “I’ll send a man to Mr. Mapleton’s stables. A man I can trust to slip in and out. A loose shoe on a carriage horse must come off eventually, must it not? And then, it can be such a palaver to send word to a farrier and wait for the man to arrive or for a footman to go off and find another horse. All the while, time will tick on. With luck, it will tick on to be far too late to attend the ball.”
Lady Montague was pleased to see the expressions all round. The gentlemen’s faces were some mix of dismay and admiration. She was intent on returning to London, and she was intent on recovering her iron fist poised above her acquaintance. It was quite convenient that these young bucks saw to what lengths she might go when she had a mind.
Nobody was to cross Lady Harriet Montague ever again.
*
Kingston was rapturous over his master’s victory at sea. He had been pacing the room and recapping every moment for the past five minutes. “And then,” Kingston said, “avoiding the crash with Lord Blanding and sailing to the finish! It really was quite marvelous.”
“Quite unbelievable, more like,” Richard said. “I still cannot work out how we did it, though Charlie was a great help in the whole thing.”
Charlie bowed solemnly. Kingston said, “You conducted yourself very creditably, Charlie.”
Charlie hooked a thumb in Kingston’s direction. “You hear that, my lord. It’s the very first time I done something creditable in your man’s eyes.”