Free The Harlow Hoyden by Lynn Messina Page A

Excellent. Sarah, why don’t you sit back and let me serve. You’ve done enough for the day. Why don’t you give me that sampler? You’ve got better things to do than drag a needle througha piece of fabric.”
    All thoughts of going to the theater were instantly abandoned upon hearing the news about Roger. The Harlows were content to pass the evening quietly in their drawing room, taking comfort from each other. Even Lady Harlow changed her plans, telling her cronies to play whist without her. She sat now by the fire, anxiously shuffling a pack of playing cards. Emma was surprisedand pleased by the concern their mama demonstrated. It had always seemed as if she didn’t care.
    Emma’s scheme to break up Lavinia and Sir Waldo would have also been forgotten had Sir Windbag himself not come to sit with the family. He put himself on the couch, right next to Sarah, effectively squeezing out Lavinia, who had been quietly talking to her, and began asking questions. He had a morbidinterest in accidents and seemed determined to get the details out of Sarah. Although told more than once that Sarah knew very little, Sir Waldo persisted in this useless line of questioning.
    “You say the horse fell on his arm. Did it fall on his whole arm, up to his shoulder, or just the lower portion, to the elbow?” he asked, completely oblivious to her discomfort.
    “I don’t know, Sir Windbourne.”

    “What part of Calais was he in when it happened? I’m somewhat familiar with the geography of France. I wonder if he was near the Chapeau Triste. Did it happen near the Chapeau Triste?”
    “I don’t know, Sir Windbourne.”
    “This doctor. What was his name? I knew a family in those parts once, named Deveraux, I think. Was the doctor a tall man with a very thin—”
    “Waldo, Mama and I were just aboutto start a hand of piquet. Won’t you join us?” said Lavinia, putting an end to the awkward exchange.
    Emma hid a smile when she saw the expression on Mama’s face. “Piquet? Why, I haven’t played piquet in years. I don’t think I recall how. Why would you say such a thing, child?”
    “How lovely. We’ll all be evenly matched,” said Lavinia as she accepted a seat from her fiancé.
    Taking the recentlyvacated cushion next to her sister-in-law, Emma said, “I’m sorry that you had to go through that, but if his ill-bred treatment of you revealed one-tenth of his coarse nature to my sister, then I can’t think it such an awful thing.”
    “Emma, you are too harsh in your judgment of him. Some people are uncomfortable in the company of tragedy and don’t know what to say. They don’t mean to behave badly.”

    “And you, my dear, are too soft in your judgment. But not to worry, I’m on the case and will soon have this whole problem fixed.”
    “What are you planning?” Sarah asked suspiciously. For the first time that day she recalled the Duke of Trent’s odd behavior the night before. He’d seemed on the verge of a confession.
    “Nothing to furl your pretty brow over. Just concentrate on Roger’s gettingwell and returning home to us soon. I’ll worry about everything else.”
    “That’s exactly what worries me.”
    Emma merely laughed.
    With the piquet game occupying her hands, Lady Harlow found her mind wandering. “The thing I don’t understand is why Roger had to go to France in the first place. It’s so dangerous.”
    “The war is over, Mama, and Napoléon has been safely ensconced on St. Helena forthese many months,” Lavinia said reasonably. “France is as safe as England.”
    “Ha!” said the lady. “Roger never tumbled off his horse on English soil. Traveling is foolhardy and dangerous. I myself have never done it and look at the long life I’ve had.”
    “Then perhaps you should not send him to France to do your bidding, “ said Emma, reminding her mother just why Roger had been on foreign soil.

    “I, send him to France? What an absurd notion.”
    “But what about your