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There was a furtive sound outside the door. Kenver grimaced.
“I suppose we couldn’t lock Cranston in a storeroom somewhere,” said Sarah, remembering her thoughts at dinner.
Kenver blinked.
“We would let her out in the morning.”
A laugh escaped him. “That would mean a great deal of shouting.”
Which he preferred to avoid, Sarah had gathered, even in their short time together. There were families who enjoyed a rousing verbal scrap, like her friend Charlotte’s. Neither hers nor Kenver’s was that sort. Cranston would bring his mother down on them as well. And the scene would confirm all of Lady Trestan’s doubts about her suitability.
“Only joking,” said Sarah. Which she had been, mostly. Partly. “Of course we can’t.” Thinking of the tenderness as they huddled together in the cave and their frolic in the garden, she felt tears prick her eyelids.
“We just need a little time,” said Kenver.
A thought floated up in Sarah’s brain. She could not ask too much of him. His parents were doing everything they could to make him regret his choice. She didn’t think he’d expected the level of friction that her arrival had roused. If her family had been doing that… Well, she couldn’t imagine them in the role, but it would be an enormous pressure. “Time. Of course,” she said.
He took both her hands, squeezed them. “I will make things right,” he said.
Sarah took in his determined expression, the resolute set of his shoulders. She nodded.
Kenver bent to kiss her quickly, turned, and went out. Sarah braced herself for Cranston’s return, and she was not mistaken. The maid came right back in, uninvited.
Sarah allowed Cranston to prepare her for bed as that meant she would go away until tomorrow. Through the silent process, Sarah’s throat was tight with emotion, fiercely repressed as long as Cranston remained in her room. Afterward, a few tears escaped.
Kenver didn’t go to bed. It wasn’t late, and he wasn’t the least bit sleepy. On the contrary, he was seething with irritation and frustrated desire. Hatless, in evening dress, he went downstairs and out into the soft summer night. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked the grounds of Poldene, every path familiar under his feet. Fingal slipped up to join him, a light-footed shadow under the stars. The deerhounds roamed the gardens at night and kept the place safe. Kenver let his hand drop in a brief caress of the dog’s head. He had to think what to do, and walking often helped. It would also calm him.
He’d expected some difficulties with this impulsive marriage. He wasn’t a fool. He and Sarah were barely acquainted after all. His parents weren’t pleased. Of course he’d known that. But he hadn’t expected such…open opposition from them.
And why not, he asked himself now. He’d never had much luck changing his parents’ opinions. They saw him as young and foolish, making no allowance for his increasing age and experience. In their minds, they would always know better. He’d adjusted to that as a…fact of life, he realized. He had ways around it. He was out on the land a good deal and had many places inside Poldene where he could hole up. He’d learned to want what was possible. A good dealwaspossible. He understood the advantages of his position.
And so their managing ways hadn’t mattered too much when it was just him. But now there was Sarah. She deserved better. Changes would have to be made. He would have to find a way.
Kenver walked across the oval of lawn where Sarah had set him afire this afternoon. He wanted his wife!
Fingal gave a soft woof, as if he too remembered their earlier frolic.
It would be best if they could go away, Kenver thought. But his father had a firm grip on the purse strings. Even a post chaise to go and visit the friend Sarah had mentioned was out of Kenver’s reach right now. This quarter’s allowance was mostly gone, and Papa could withhold payment of the next if he wished to. As for the costs of their own establishment—Kenver was well aware of how much that would require. It was out of the question. Also, he loved Poldene. It had always been his home. He’d expected it always would be.
He stood in the dark garden, breathed in the scents of roses and the sea. With an instinct to comfort, Fingal thrust a wet nose into his hand. Fingal had been part of Kenver’s life since he was a boy of thirteen. The dog had grown from a tumbling puppy to the patriarch of his own line, and now into venerable old age. If he could speak, he might have useful advice. But of course he could not.
In her nightdress, with her hair braided down her back, Sarah gathered her courage and opened her bedroom door just a little. The corridor was empty. She held out her candlestick to throw more light. Nothing. She heard no sounds. The candle flame wavered only slightly in the still air. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out and scuttled along the hallway to knock on her husband’s bedchamber door. There was no answer. Afraid that someone would come along and see her, Sarah turned the knob and went in, closing the door with a soft click.
The room was empty. There was no sign that he had been in it since dinnertime. She walked across and looked into the adjoining dressing room. It was also empty. Cupid and Psyche, she thought, the foolish girl who married an invisible lover and was tyrannized by her vindictive goddess/mother-in-law. “Idiot,” Sarah murmured. “Kenver is not invisible, and the countess isnotAphrodite.” That very inapt comparison actually made her smile.
Suppressing further wild ideas of enchanted castles and hollow hills, Sarah gazed around the room. Kenver’s quarters were richer and more spacious than what she’d been given, which did not surprise her. Signs of him were everywhere—a discarded neckcloth, a pair of gloves, silver-backed brushes. She picked up a glove and held it to her cheek. She breathed in his scent, familiar from their embraces in the garden.
In her voracious consumption of any book she could get her hands on, Sarah had encountered quite a few concepts that a proper young lady was not expected to know. She’d read about the pleasures of the marital bed—in annoyingly vague terms for the most part, so that the topic remained tantalizing and mysterious. Kenver’s kisses had confirmed some bits. Sarah knew now what it was to be wildly aroused. She was eager to explore the rest.
Could she climb into his bed and wait for him there? The idea thrilled and scandalized her. What would he say, think? Itwastheir wedding night. He would be startled though. And what if he was not glad to see her when he returned?
A muted sound from beyond the small door on the other side of Kenver’s dressing room made Sarah freeze. Kenver must have a valet, she realized, as she had the lamentable Cranston. Another of Lady Trestan’s loyal staff. If the man came in and found her here…
Sarah’s nerve broke. Checking the corridor and finding the coast clear, she retreated to her own room. Standing beside the bed, the candlestick wavering in her hand, she caught her breath.
Sadness threatened. She refused to cry! It was stupid to feel that all was lost. This was only the first day of her marriage, though it felt like an eternity. She needed a plan.
The shadows danced around her in the candlelight.
