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Whatever Sarah might have expected, this wasn’t it. “From…”
“You did not tell us you knew Tamara,” Lady Trestan added through clenched teeth.
“I don’t,” replied Sarah.
“Why would she write to you then?” asked Kenver’s father.
“I knew you were a liar,” said his mother. “What is your connection to Tamara?” Her hand closed on the letter, wrinkling the paper. Cecelia watched her as if she was a poor actor in a bad play. Sarah was certain that Lady Trestan would have opened and read the missive if the duchess had not been present.
“I have none,” Sarah said. “And no notion why she has written to me. I shall be interested to see.” She held out her hand for the letter.
“Did Tamara arrange Kenver’s entrapment?” asked the countess as if she hadn’t heard Sarah’s denial. “Is this her revenge?”
“Revenge for what?” asked Kenver. “And I was not ‘entrapped.’”
“How do you explain this then?” His mother tapped the page.
“Explain? Why should anyone have to…”
“Someonehad better,” she interrupted, staring at Sarah.
This was just ridiculous, Sarah thought. Itwaslike a silly melodrama. Still, she was glad Cecelia was there.
“If I had to guess…” Kenver began.
“Yes?”
“I suppose my sister heard of our marriage and has written to congratulate Sarah.”
“How would she have heard?” demanded his mother.
“It was rather talked of, Mama,” he answered. “I suppose Tamara might have gotten the news from a local acquaintance.”
“Who?” demanded the countess like a cat pouncing on a mouse.
She longed for a target in which to sink her claws, Sarah noted.
“I don’t know. How would I?”
“Did Tamara grow up here at Poldene?” asked Cecelia. Her calm inquiry was like a stone dropped into a roiling stream.
The countess sat back, pressing her lips together.
“Yes,” said Kenver’s father.
“Then I suppose she would have friends from earlier years.”
In the simmering silence that followed, Sarah stepped over and pulled the letter from under Lady Trestan’s hand. The countess reached as if to snatch it back, but Sarah evaded her fingers, moving away again.
Everyone stared at Sarah. Lady Trestan looked as if she’d like to box her ears. The earl scowled. Cecelia was obviously curious. As who would not be? Did they actually imagine she was going to read it to them? Sarah turned and walked out, heading for her bedchamber. A babble broke out behind her. She ignored it.
Nine
For once, Sarah’s bedchamber was a refuge. There would be no Cranston barging in, and if Gwen appeared, Sarah could dismiss her. She sat down on the bed and examined the mysterious letter.
The writer had dribbled sealing wax all across the free edge of the page. So that no one could slip a knife under a seal and wiggle it open, Sarah decided. She’d wanted tampering to be easily spotted, which said a good deal. Sarah wriggled her little finger under the edge and cracked the line of red wax. Bits scattered over the coverlet as she slid her hand along. She unfolded the letter, noticing the strong looping handwriting, and read.
To Kenver’s wife,
