The Bennetton Regatta | Clementine Boat
Starter for @harry-cadogan
Marjorie watched the gap between herself and the shore grow to an ever-larger gulf, heart thumping so strongly that for a moment she feared the others might see it beat through the cloth of her dress. She pulled in a deep breath. Why had she never been sailing? Though she was surrounded by the same ladies and gentleman who so often kept her company, she couldn’t help but feel this was freedom as she’d never experienced it before. The polite thing to do would be to greet the others, say her hellos and make conversation, but all she wanted was to hang over the edge and watch the barge glide smoothly over the water. She indulged in her desire for a moment, eyes closing briefly as she imagined what it would feel like to truly set sail when the waves were high and the sea was underneath her.
She was smiling when she straightened up again, parasol forgotten and freckles already starting to dot the bridge of her nose. Perhaps her good mood is what caused her to laugh, not gasp, when she caught sight of Sir Harry Cadogan, Viscount Chelsea, pouring something she suspected was not lemonade into his drink. How he’d even managed to sneak a flask past the Bennettons, she wasn’t sure, but she found she didn’t have the heart to chastise him for it. The day was too great. “Sir Cadogan,” she said instead, voice playfully disapproving, “Are you so bored of us already that you’re driven to drink?”