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Messages had flown with unusual speed up and down the London road, and two days later, the mysterious, illustrious guests were due to arrive at Poldene. Sarah and Kenver had not been told what time they were expected, but as it chanced, they were out walking in the gardens when carriage wheels sounded on the gravel drive. Curious, Kenver turned their steps toward the front courtyard, in time to see a vehicle with a crest on the door pull up with a flourish of the coachman’s whip. “What a cracking team!” Kenver couldn’t help but exclaim. The four grays were perfectly matched.
The carriage door opened, and a handsome man with dark hair and an athletic figure descended. Kenver had spent enough time in London to recognize a Corinthian in the first stare of fashion. The fellow turned and offered his hand to a dazzling blond lady, another example of sartorial perfection. Kenver wondered how his uncle had come to know such a polished pair.
“Oh,” said Sarah at his side.
Kenver didn’t blame her. He couldn’t remember ever seeing such stylish visitors at Poldene. The front door opened, and his parents emerged to greet the newcomers. Kenver noticed that the dogs didnotcome rushing out ahead of them to overwhelm these new arrivals. He led Sarah forward, curious to discover who this might be.
His mother looked disgruntled to see them approaching. Kenver ignored her frown and joined the group.
“Sarah!” cried the lovely blond visitor. She looked startled.
“Cecelia, hello,” his wife most surprisingly replied. “Are you the houseguests?”
“Yes, we have kindly been invited to stay at Poldene.”
“Oh, how lovely.” Sarah sounded surprised and relieved in equal measure. Kenver was simply amazed.
“You know each other?” asked his mother. Her tone was astonished, edging toward disbelief. The look she gave Sarah was acrid.
Kenver saw both the guests notice her attitude. The fashionable lady raked them all with blue eyes that seemed as astute as they were lovely. “We are very good friends,” she replied. “I’m delighted to see you, Sarah.”
There was the slightest hint of a question at the end of that sentence. “This is my husband, Kenver Pendrennon,” Sarah replied.
More surprise, Kenver noted. It seemed a morning for it.
“Our son,” said his mother as if Sarah had usurped her prerogatives. Which she had, rather.
“Kenver, these are my friends the Duke and Duchess of Tereford,” Sarah added.
And enjoyed saying it, Kenver thought. He couldn’t blame her, after days of his mother’s snubs. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said.
“I really can’t think how you came to be acquainted,” said his mother. Her chagrin was all too evident. It was embarrassing.
“We enjoyed each other’s company during the season,” answered the duchess.
“You. And Miss…her?” Mama’s tone suggested that she thought some trick was being played on her.
Both guests turned to look at her with slightly raised brows. Their gazes combined interrogation and censure in such a finely tuned mixture that Kenver filed it away for future reference. And a time when he might need to commit exquisitely polite annihilation.
“We should go in,” said his father.
His mother blinked. She took an instant to recover from those looks, then said, “Yes. Of course.” She stepped between her guests and her son. “Do come in,” she added, clearly not to Kenver and Sarah.
The guests followed her without looking back. They weren’t the sort to give in to such impulses, Kenver judged. He decided not to follow. Let his mother play lady of the manor and calm down. He wondered where she intended to house them. “Well, that was a surprise,” he said.
“I knew they were coming down to Cornwall to see about one of the Tereford properties here,” Sarah replied. “It is quite run-down, I believe. We’d spoken of meeting during their visit. I thought there might be a letter soon. But this seems…” She paused, considering. “I suppose Poldene is the only house in the neighborhood grand enough to host the Terefords.” She shook her head, murmuring, “But it feels like the hand of providence.”
He gave her a questioning look.
“To have a friend arrive,” Sarah said.
Was he not a friend? Perhaps he wasn’t really. Yet. He certainly intended to be. One of the gardeners rounded a shrub and began pruning its branches. Unnecessarily in Kenver’s opinion. Some member of the Poldene staff always seemed to pop up when he and Sarah were together. His mother’s tactics were becoming wearisome.
“I will ask Cecelia’s advice,” Sarah added, as if speaking to herself. Noticing Kenver’s raised brows, she said, “Cecelia is up to anything.”
Kenver’s observation of the duchess had been brief, but he had no trouble believing this.
“And the duke is very pleasant company,” she added.
