The Harlow Hoyden

by Lynn Messina

  “A very pretty speech, sir,” Emma said, pleased of course but also disconcerted by the intensity with which he spoke. She lowered her eyes.

  Trent placed a finger under her chin and raised her head until her eyes met his. “It’s only the truth, Emma. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” He stared at her steadily until she gave some indication of understanding and then kissed her gently on the lips. “And as I was trying to say earlier, I want you to be happy as my wife, for I know you have no love of marriage—”

  “It is not marriage I mind so much as husbands, Alex,” she rushed to explain. “As you yourself pointed out, Windbag’s desire to have Vinnie do nothing but raise his children and see to his comfort made him a husband, not a villain.”

  “A husband, yes, but not your husband,” he corrected. “I am not a fool, Emma. I expect you to have interests outside of our marriage. I only ask that you try to avoid danger, and if you cannot then that you take me with you. There will be no more solitary trips down to the docks.”

  “Well of course I’ll take you with me. For one, you are my most trusted ally and for another, you’re great fun to have around.”

  “Thank you, my dear, I don’t know when I’ve been paid a higher compliment.”

  Emma smiled, beginning to see the advantages of having a husband. No one in society cared what boring, old married ladies did, nor did they expect them to behave with the utmost propriety. Perhaps this was where true freedom lay. “Alex, when we are married, will you mind very much if I race to Newmarket alone to try to beat my own record? It was the very devil having to take Roger with me for the sake of my reputation.”

  Her husband-to-be laughed. “Not at all, my dear. Indeed, I think I shall take a crack at it myself.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  They had barely pulled the carriages up to the town house before Sarah was running toward them. She saw Emma first.

  “Oh, you poor dear,” she said, holding her sister-in-law tightly in her arms. “We have been so worried. You must never do that to us again, you wicked girl The next time you run off, you must leave a note.”

  Emma laughed delightedly at Sarah’s censorious tone. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble, my love. The situation called for immediate action. Once we are inside, we’ll tell you all about it and I’m sure you’ll agree that I behaved in the best way possible.”

  Sarah doubted that she’d ever agree to such an outlandish claim, but before she got a chance to say anything, Vinnie stepped out of the carriage. Releasing Emma, she walked over to Vinnie and put her hands on her shoulders. “Ah, the sensible twin! Vinnie, what am I to do if I cannot rely on your good judgment?”

  Vinnie donned a penitent looked that was belied by the twinkle in her eye. “Sarah, trust me, the situation was so unlikely, no one’s judgment could be relied upon to be wholly sensible.”

  Sarah, whose interest in what had happened during the last few days was already acute, became, impossibly, even more curious. Correctly reading her expression, Vinnie said, “Emma is right. Let’s not have a talk on the front walk of the house. We will be inside soon enough.”

  Her sister-in-law agreed with this statement and devoted her energies to moving the party indoors. The trouble seemed to be Philip, who was trying to get out of the carriage.

  “No, I think I should take you right home,” said the duke, stopping his cousin’s attempt to hop down on one leg. “The long ride couldn’t have been good for your wound.”

  “Don’t be such a flat, Trent. I ain’t going home to lie in bed while the rest of you plot how to catch the master spy,” he protested. “Tell him, Miss Harlow, how I have as much a right as anyone to be here.”

  “He’s right, Alex,” said Emma, responding promptly to this plea for help. “He did take a bullet. Besides, the drive wasn’t that rackety. I missed all but the smallest potholes.”

  “Alex?” echoed Sarah. “Since when do you call the duke Al—” Then she digested the rest of the sentence and paled. “Bullet? How did Mr. Keswick get struck by a bullet?”

  Emma laid a comforting hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “We’ll tell you all about it in a minute, dearest. Just let us get Philip comfortably settled in the drawing room. And perhaps we could get something to eat. We hardly stopped on the way, for we knew you and Roger must be beside yourselves with worry. How is my dear brother?”

  “He is well.”

  “Good. Why don’t you go into the house and see about food? And if Roger is awake he should join us for our discussion. This concerns him, too.”

  Realizing that to stay and argue would only waste time, Sarah agreed. She returned to the house, told Ludlow to help Roger to the drawing room and disappeared into the kitchen to see about a light collation for the group of weary travelers.

  Although her interest in the events were keen, all such thoughts deserted her when she saw the duke sitting so close to Emma on the settee. Was he holding her hand?

  “Emma, are you and the duke…” Before she could finish the sentence, Emma was nodding happily. Sarah felt a lump form in her throat and fought the surge of emotion. Imagine! Emma a duchess. “That is above all things wonderful, my dear. Come, let me give you a hug.”

  Emma willingly complied and then stood back as her sister-in-law subjected Trent to similar treatment. “Your brother will be very pleased. Where is he? I sent Ludlow up fifteen minutes ago.” Sarah sat down in a large armchair by the fire. “This is such a lovely surprise. I had given up on either one of you girls getting married and now both of you are betrothed.”

  Vinnie blushed. “Ah, not exactly, Sarah.”

  Sarah turned to Vinnie. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve broken off my engagement with Sir Windbourne.”

  “But why?”

  Vinnie looked so abashed by this question that Trent stepped in to answer. “That’s what we are here to discuss. As soon as—” The doors opened and admitted Roger, who was strong enough now to climb down the stairs on his own. “Ah, there you, my good fellow. We were just about to start telling our tale.”

  Roger accepted Trent’s hand, greeted his sisters with surprisingly strong embraces, inquired after Philip’s health and took a seat. “Well, you are an unlikely party. Emma, wherever did you get that horrid dress?”

  “Roger!” admonished his wife, who thought that Roger should not point out how awful Emma looked on the off chance that her betrothed had not yet noticed.

  Roger sent Sarah a confused look.

  Emma laughed. “The dress is a cautionary tale of what happens when you leave town without luggage.”

  “Yes,” said Sarah, “do tell us why you had to leave town without luggage, without a companion and without advising your family.”

  “It’s not a pretty story,” stated Emma. “It starts with Roger.”

  “With Roger?” repeated Sarah.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you,” she told her brother. “Does Sarah know about your work for the government?”

  “How do you know—” He coughed. “I mean, what work for the government?”

  Emma smiled thinly. “It is too late now, Roger. The cat’s out of the bag. We all know, as did Sir Waldo.”

  “What work?” asked Sarah.

  Roger looked distinctly uncomfortable. Emma felt little sympathy for him. When one lied to one’s wife and put oneself in danger, one must be prepared to suffer the consequences. “Should you tell her or I?” she asked.

  He straightened his shoulders and turned to his wife. “I’ve been doing a little work for the government. Nothing very important, really, just passing along information from the Home Office to some of our operatives in the field, here and in France.”

  “But why?” Sarah asked, hardly able to digest this information. “The war is over, is it not?” Reading Sarah’s expression, Emma knew that Roger would have to give a more thorough account of himself when they were alone.

  Roger shook his head sadly. “We know that Napoléon is planning to esc
ape St. Helena, but we don’t know when or how. His most trusted generals have gathered in Corsica and are even now scheming to invade England.” He looked at each of their shocked faces. “This is top-secret information, you understand. It doesn’t leave this room.”

  Emma nodded. “Your messages were being intercepted by Windbag.”

  “Impossible!”

  “Not quite,” said Vinnie with wry humor. “He had a key to your private drawer, and as my fiancé, he had free run of the house. Indeed, it was rather easy for him. Emma caught him in the act.”

  Roger looked at Emma for confirmation. She nodded. Still, he could scarcely credit it. “But how did he know?”

  “Someone in the Home Office betrayed you,” Emma said.

  “Who?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

  “We don’t know that yet,” answered Trent, “but we have a plan.”

  “A stupid plan,” muttered Vinnie.

  “I think it’s a fine plan,” said Philip, who had been quiet until now. “Emma’s the best choice. I’d do it myself, only I ain’t so agile with this cane. And no one in his right mind would go after Trent. Everyone knows he’s a master shot and good with his fists.”

  “What’s this plan?” Roger asked, a suspicion already forming.

  Before explaining her plan, Emma went back to the beginning, to the afternoon in the study when Windbourne came in to do his dastardly business. The telling took a while, for everyone broke in with different remembrances, and Emma, fed up with the interruptions, insisted that Trent finish the story.

  Roger didn’t like the plan any better than Vinnie, but he reluctantly admitted that telling his superiors that Emma knew the name of his betrayer was the surest way to learn his identity.

  “I do not like it,” said Sarah.

  “None of us like it,” said Trent.

  “But she has already been through so much horror.”

  “Pooh,” dismissed Emma, glad that her sister-in-law could not see the awful-looking bruises on her neck. “What I have been through can only be categorized as discomfort. And with our country’s safety at stake, how can I cavil at a few more moments of discomfort?”

  Sarah knew it wasn’t that simple. “But your life will be at stake!”

  “Trent will protect me, and besides, as I’ve demonstrated in the past, I can take care of myself.”

  “Fending off a few overeager suitors is not the same as confronting a murderer,” Sarah said, making what she thought was a very good point.

  “We do not know that he’s a murderer,” Emma reasoned. “He might only be a traitor.”

  Sarah was unimpressed by this argument. “A man who would betray his country is without conscience.”

  Emma threw up her hands. She’d never known Sarah to be so difficult. “All right, then provide us with another plan and we will happily abandon our imperfect one.”

  Sarah had several ideas that she thought were quite good, but either Roger or Trent or Emma—or all of them together—shot each of them down. It seemed that anything they did put someone’s life at risk. She finally agreed.

  “Excellent,” said Emma. “So first thing in the morning Roger will visit the Home Office and make them aware that Windbourne told me the name of his informant. However, to everyone’s dismay, I passed out from a head wound before I could reveal the name but the doctor believes I should wake up within the next twenty-four hours.”

  Roger nodded. “A specified amount of time will ensure that the villain will move swiftly.”

  “And be sure to mention the part where I am lying in bed unattended in a largely deserted house,” Emma added.

  “Good,” said Trent standing up. “I think I should get Philip home. No doubt my family is wondering what happened to us, and I’m sure that Emma and Vinnie haven’t had much rest since their adventure began.”

  Emma fought a blush as images from her night with Trent played in her mind. She seemed to have developed the habit of recalling her fiancé’s naked body at the most inopportune times. She faked a yawn to hide her embarrassment. “Yes, I’m thoroughly exhausted. And I’m longing to get out of this awful dress.”

  Now Trent’s eyes blazed as he recalled how close he himself had come to getting her out of that awful dress. He cocked his head to the side, indicating that he wanted a quiet word with Emma. They stood in the corner of the elegantly appointed room surrounded by her family.

  He lowered his head and said softly, “I’ll hardly be able to sleep tonight without you in my bed.”

  Her color rose. “Alex,” she said, wanting him to stop and continue at the same time.

  He smiled, pleased by her charming response. “I will be back here tomorrow before Roger leaves. I do not want to take any chances.”

  “Excellent, then we’ll spend hours and hours in my bed chamber. Whatever will we do to pass the time?” she asked innocently.

  “Nothing distracting, imp, and I don’t think we’ll be alone, so abandon your lascivious thoughts. I suspect Roger will be taking a pistol and hiding behind a curtain, too.”

  “Oh, well, a girl can dream, can’t she?”

  “Yes, and I hope she does—of me.”

  His betrothed thought this was rather likely.

  Emma tied her dressing gown around her waist, luxuriating in the feel of her own clean clothing against her skin, and knocked on her sister’s door.

  Vinnie’s maid opened the door to reveal Vinnie sitting in front of the mirror brushing her hair. “That will be all, Emily. Thank you for your help.”

  “Tis luvely to have ye back, miss,” said the soft-spoken girl. She smiled thinly at Emma. “Ye too, miss.”

  When the maid had closed the door Emma said, “Liar.”

  “What’s that?” Vinnie put down the brush.

  “I was calling into question the veracity of your maid,” she said, sitting down on the edge of the pink-covered bed. “I know for a fact she isn’t happy I’m back.”

  “What ridiculousness.”

  “Lucy says Emily hates doing the mending and that there’s always twice as much when I’m in residence.”

  “Well, you won’t be here for long.” Vinnie fluffed a pillow against the headboard and sat down across from Emma. “I get the feeling from Trent that you’ll be bothering other servants with your torn dresses before the week is out.”

  “Yes, he does seem eager to leg-shackle himself to the infamous Harlow Hoyden. You’d think a man of his age and experience would know better.”

  “He does, which is why he is so determined to see it done right and proper as fast as humanly possible.” Vinnie sighed and fell silent for a moment, suddenly reflective. “It’s funny, isn’t it?”

  “What?” asked Emma, lying back on the bed and turning her head to face her sister.

  “Well, here you are getting married, after you swore up and down that you never would, and I, who always longed for children, am suddenly thinking that the role of spinster aunt might suit me fine.”

  Emma sat up and took her sister’s hand. “Vinnie, just because your first fiancé turned out to be a villainous traitor doesn’t mean that you won’t find someone else. You mustn’t start thinking again that you’ll wind up on the shelf. You won’t, Vinnie. You’re smart and interesting and passably pretty and funny and you can have any man you want.”

  Vinnie laughed and extricated her hand. “Not quite any man I want but I will agree that I stand a reasonable chance of catching a husband if I want one. See,” she said, a hint of pride in her voice, “I’m not quite as insecure now as I was before I met Windbourne. But I’ve realized that my flowers are so much more than a hobby, and I can’t give them up. Trent suggested that I write some pamphlets for the—”

  “Trent suggest it?” she asked.

  “Yes. They’d be just for the Horticultural Society and the topic would be boring drainage systems,” she rushed to explain, “but it was very flattering to be asked, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, very flatter
ing indeed.”

  After a long pause, Vinnie said, “I’ve been thinking of writing a book on how to grow orchids.”

  “You have?” She turned away so that her sister wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. Vinnie would only ask what was wrong, and she’d be at a loss to explain. Indeed, she didn’t know why she was crying. Perhaps it was because Trent was so good or because her sister was finally realizing her own worth.

  “Yes, I even have a few chapters already done. I’d be honored if you’d read them. One or two pages are a little scorched. Sir Waldo dropped them into the fire by mistake.”

  She wiped away a tear. “Of course, although I’m sure I won’t understand half of it.”

  “Oh, but you should. I’ve written it with people like you in mind.”

  “Simpletons who don’t know a trowel from a rhizome?”

  “Beginners. Really, Emma, you are attaching yourself the finest orchid grower in the country. I don’t think you’ll stay disinterested for long.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” said Emma, thinking how dreadfully dull it must be to watch plants grow. “And you have it the wrong way around, my dear. It is Trent who is attaching himself to the finest orchid grower in the country.”

  “And I’m not so sure about that. But no matter, I will devote myself to my flowers for a few years, and if I happen to meet a man who sets my head spinning the way Trent does yours, then I’ll consider the prospect. Until then….”

  “Trent does not set my head spinning!” she protested. “What a perfectly ridiculous phrase.”