investments?”
“The only investments I have are English. I’d never send my money to France, where any old foreigner could steal it. Why, look at what happened to Roger. I’m not altogether convinced that this accident wasn’t intentional. Surely some thieves set upon him in the night, causing him to take a fall.”
Emma thoughtthis disavowal of French investments odd but didn’t refine too much on it. Her mother was a careless, absentminded woman and forgetting that she’d sent her firstborn on a financial errand was exactly the sort of thing she’d do.
“That is neither here nor there,” said Sarah, fearing that Emma wouldn’t let the matter rest. “What’s important is Roger’s health. We must all keep that in mind. Andwhen he returns to our hearth, we must be sure to treat him as we always have. We mustn’t let him think we’re treating him differently because of his missing arm. His state of mind is as important as his physical health.”
Everyone agreed that this was the best course of action, and the room fell silent once more.
CHAPTER FOUR
Much to his disgust, the Duke of Trent found himself looking for the Harlow chit everywhere he went. He expected to see her at the Sizemore musicale, which was the only reason he let his mama drag him there. Two hours of listening to what sounded like a hen caterwauling and not a glimpse of golden curls. He left the event in a huff and went to his club, where he passed the eveninglosing fifty pounds to the Earl of Tumbridge.
The exercise was repeated the next evening, at Lady Weston’s route. His delighted mama watched him make conversation with Miss Portia Hedgley under the very pleased eye of that lady’s father. The talk was desultory and bored the duke to flinders. If he had to hear another word about ostrich-plumed hats, he was going to scream. At the first possiblemoment, he offered to fetch the lady wine and disappeared into the crowd. He cornered Philip and made him deliver the refreshment to Miss Hedgley.
“What should I tell her?” asked Philip when charged with this task. “She’s going to ask what happened to you, and I’m going to look like a queer fellow if I don’t know.”
Trent was too bored to think of a creative excuse. “Tell her whatever you want.”
Philip tried to think of something. “Nope, my head’s empty. You better give me an excuse to pass along.”
“All right, tell her I’ve got the headache,” he said, thinking it wasn’t very far from the truth.
“Can’t do that,” protested Philip. “Only girls get headaches. Don’t worry. I’ll think of something. Not very good at lying but clearly I am better than you. A headache! Might as well tellher you had a fainting spell.” Philip left in disgust.
As he watched his cousin walk away, Trent decided it was time he got going. The hour was still early, early enough to salvage something from this evening. He got into his carriage and told the coachman to take him to a gambling hell along St. James. There was a young widow he was flirting with, one he hoped to set up a liaison with, andhe knew she was a fan of the baize. Perhaps tonight he would press his suit. He could think of nothing else of interest to do.
Upon entering the hell, he found the widow Enderling at the faro table, just as he’d expected. His entrance did not pass unnoticed, and he saw the lady in question casting lures at him out of the corner of her eye. Yes , he thought, she’s ripe for the plucking. Somehowthe prospect didn’t please him as it ought. Perhaps it was because the challenge had gone out of the game.
He was making his way over to the widow when he caught sight of Everett Carson at the poker table. Without thinking, Trent changed directions and laid out his counters next to the peer. “Deal me in,” he said, taking out his snuffbox.
“Trent, this is a surprise,” said Carson. “From thelook of it, you seemed determined in your pursuit of the lovely Mrs. Enderling. I