Free The Harlow Hoyden by Lynn Messina

worry so much about me. I’m no longer a child and am well adeptat taking care of myself.”
    “Yes, it’s your reputation you don’t have a care for.”
    “Well, which is more important—my person or my reputation?”
    Sarah looked at her with considering eyes. “Honestly, my dear, I don’t know the answer to that one.”
    “Well, I do, and that’s all that matters. Now let’s get some tea into you and then you can tell me all about it.” She stood up, stuck her head outof the parlor doors and called for the housekeeper. “Dobson, Dobson, where is that woma— Oh, there you are. Can we get some tea in here? And some sandwiches. My sister-in-law is in need of sustenance.” Sarah tried to demur, but Miss Harlow ran roughshod over her. “Yes, you do. Dobson, also bring some of my brother’s brandy. I’ve always found it very reviving.” She closed the door.
    “Emma, I dowish you’d use the pull cord like everyone else. You can’t go around yelling your head off. The servants find it off-putting.”
    “Pooh, certainly it’s less off-putting than being called with a bell like a dog.”
    Sarah could not bestir herself to argue. “Very well. But I don’t think we should have the brandy. It’s the middle of the day.”
    “Bad news doesn’t defer to the time of day—why shouldwe?” Emma made herself comfortable on a footstool across from her friend. “All right, tell me everything. I know naught other than he lost his arm. How did it happen? Where did it happen? Who is taking care of him?”
    “It was a riding accident,” explained Sarah. “His horse took a spill and landed on top of his arm. We are very lucky that he did. A few inches to the right and Roger’s chest wouldhave been crushed. The doctor says that he’s very fortunate to have survived such an accident.”
    “But there must be some mistake!” exclaimed Emma. “Roger is an excellent rider. He’s never taken a spill in his life. ’Twas he who taught me how to hold a seat, and a horse has never fallen on my arm.”
    “I assure you it’s no mistake. The roads in France must be different from the roads in England.Perhaps there are more potholes. Perhaps he was riding at night. I do not have all the details. I only know that it happened four days ago in Calais and that he is alive. I don’t need to know more.”
    Emma saw the look of calm on Sarah’s face and restrained her impatience. Because she didn’t have Sarah’s inner serenity, she was unable to accept this information without further questions. She wantedto know more, and she cursed the promise she had given. Really, if she left right now, she would be in Dover before dark and in Calais by luncheon tomorrow. It was so much more preferable to just sitting here waiting for news. “Does the missive say when Roger will be well enough for travel?” she asked.
    “The doctor hopes within a week, barring infection.”
    Emma nodded. Surely she could waita week to get the details from Roger. She was much interested in hearing about this spill. Something very treacherous indeed must have crossed his path to make such an accomplished rider as he lose control of his steed. She allowed that on a moonless night a large animal like a deer might be able to do her some mischief. “We’ll have to prepare the house for his arrival. Shall I instruct Dobson orwould you rather do that?”
    “I shall take care of everything. Thank goodness the children are at Ridgeview House. I wouldn’t want them to see their father when he’s unwell. In a few months, I daresay, he’ll be used to his condition and will be able to put them at ease. When adults are awkward or uncomfortable, children sense it and react accordingly.”
    “Yes, that’s exactly how it is.” The dooropened and in stepped a footman with a tray of food. “Ah, here is Ludlow. Please leave it on the table and we will take care of it, my good man. And here’s the tea. I don’t see the brandy. I trust that’s forthcoming?