“Allow me to introduce you to Lady Margaret Scott. Margaret, Mr. James Gordon Bennett Junior.”

“Well! How do you do?” Mr. Gordon Bennett took her gloved hand, surprising her by bowing over and kissing it. “A Scott from Scotland. Now that’s a good joke! Do you like sailing? Of course you do, coming from an island and all, eh? My father will be delighted to meet you. Not sure where he is at the moment, but I’m sure—anyway, you’ll need to excuse me. I have to go and make sure we’re set for the off. Good to meet you, Lady Margaret. There’s champagne—or maybe you prefer a wee dram? Ha! Enjoy the day.”

Nodding absently at the line of guests waiting behind them, Mr. Gordon Bennett picked up a cap from the table behind him and made his way out.

“I can’t see the old man,” Randolph said. “We’ll go and watch the start, then I’ll track him down.”

“I still don’t understand—” She broke off, shaking her head ruefully. “Patience is not one of my virtues, is it?”

Despite her scant interest in sailing, Margaret couldn’t help but get caught up in the excitement as she stood among the crowd on the veranda, watching the tugs pull the schooners, in full sail, into position. Flags were being unfurled on the shore and on the yachts. Then just before eleven thirty, a gunshot cracked, making her jump; the cheering and whooping became a crescendo; and the race was on. The schooners very quickly picked up the breeze and headed out into the bay.

“What happens now?” Margaret asked.

“The course is about forty miles, I’m told. We should know the winner in four hours, maybe a bit longer, but before that, you and I have work to do.”

“At last!” She followed him back into the now empty clubhouse. “What do I have to do?”

“Make a pitch,” Randolph said. “Sell your idea for Five Points Children’s Sanctuary. James Gordon Bennett is not your typical philanthropist, but he’s agreed to hear you out. I’ve opened the door for you; it’s up to you now to persuade him.”

“Randolph! This is the bit of business you wanted my help with? You might have warned me.”

“If I had, you’d have prepared a speech. Much better to speak from the heart, Margaret—it’s what you do best. There he is. Mr. Gordon Bennett, sir,” Randolph said, hailing an elderly man who was seated partially obscured in an alcove, “allow me to introduce Lady Margaret Scott to you. Go on,” he whispered as he pushed her forward, “work your magic on him.”