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She looked up, surprised. They gazed at each other, dark-blue eyes fixed on lighter ones, a variety of emotions passing through their depths.
“You think we don’t know how?” Cecelia asked in an uncharacteristically subdued voice.
He made a gesture of denial. “Your care for your friends shows otherwise. And your charitable work as well.”
She looked reassured. For a little while, she gazed into the indeterminate distance as if weighing pros and cons. The duke waited.
“I will ask Sarah and her husband to show us some of the local sights,” Cecelia said.
The duke blinked, frowned, drew in a breath. “Are there sights?” he asked.
“That is not the point.”
“Ah, my mistake.”
Hearing an odd tone in his voice, Cecelia turned to him. “It would be good for all four of us to have more time away from Poldene,” she said.
“You always know best.”
She examined his face, then rose from her chair and went to sit beside him. “Are you feeling neglected?” She put her arms around him.
“More receiving my just deserts,” he replied, somewhat ruefully. “And finding them not entirely palatable.”
“What?”
“Pay me no mind.”
“Nonsense.” She kissed him.
“Not in that arena, Cecelia,” he began. But then she kissed him again in a way that was difficult to ignore. And her hand, resting on his knee, moved upward in a way that really could not be resisted.
Looking through the open door of Sarah’s bedchamber, Kenver found Gwen tidying the room. The maid greeted him with a bright smile. “Do you know where I can find your mistress?” he asked her.
“She mentioned the library, sir.”
“Thank you.” Kenver headed downstairs, noting how pleasant it was to encounter Gwen rather than Cranston. Sarah had mentioned more than once that she liked her new attendant.
Sarah’s reply to Tamara’s letter had been duly dispatched. In the end, she hadn’t shown it to him. She’d said she was simply thanking his sister for writing and hoping they might meet sometime soon, and he believed her. Kenver had labored a long time over the note he’d added to her packet. What was he to say to a stranger who was also his sister? A sister he’d allowed to disappear from his existence? Who must think he was a dead loss. His final product had been bland and unsatisfying. If they ever came face-to-face, they might have a frank discussion about their parents. Or perhaps not. He couldn’t picture either alternative.
When he reached the library, it seemed empty. “Sarah?” he called.
“Yes?” came a disembodied voice.
“Where are you?”
Sarah’s head appeared above the back of an armchair. “Here.”
Kenver walked past a jutting bookshelf to discover that Sarah had made her own nest here in the library. She’d turned an armchair toward a corner, barricaded it with a small table topped by a large vase, and positioned a footstool before it. Sitting with her feet up, she was invisible from the door. Anyone glancing in would think the room empty, as he had.
Light slanting from the window illuminated the nook. It was softened with cushions and a colorful shawl. A half-empty bookshelf at the side held writing materials and an open book. The one above held the favorite volumes Sarah had brought with her. All in all, a clever arrangement.
“You’ve found my hiding place,” said Sarah.
He didn’t know how to respond to this. She shouldn’t have to hide.
“Gwen helped me move the furniture. She is really quite ingenious about getting things one needs from the household.”
It hadn’t occurred to Kenver that this might be any sort of difficulty.
