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“We found those hangings in the cellar,” Sarah said as they stood together in one of these. “They belonged to the previous inhabitants.”
“Harlequins?” asked Kenver.
“Elderly ladies with a lively sense of decor.”
“Or very poor eyesight.”
Sarah laughed. “I suppose that could be. Or I’ve read that some people don’t see colors properly. Perhaps it was that.”
Kenver had no idea. He only knew that Tresigan did not feel homelike. Compared to Poldene, it was dreary. “This is not what I expected to provide for my wife,” he said.
“If you really dislike the draperies, I can ask my parents for castoffs,” Sarah began. She pressed her lips together. “Or perhaps not right away.”
“You don’t wish them to see your new home,” Kenver said. “Your mother would be appalled.”
Sarah didn’t deny it. “I’ll put things in better order first,” she answered. “We have some fabrics from the Poldene attics.”
“Old, faded hangings with outmoded patterns,” Kenver said.
“Why should draperies go out of fashion? That’s nonsensical. They are sound.”
“You should have new things, fine things.” The sort of surroundings he was accustomed to, Kenver thought. He’d never had to think about draperies or…any number of other things he suspected would become important at Tresigan.
“This is an adventure,” said Sarah. “I have always longed for adventures.”
She was indomitable. Kenver put an arm around her and drew her close. He was bending for a kiss when Merlin marched in with two portmanteaus and plopped them down with a thump. He did not stay, but Jowan and the carter came in right behind him with a trunk. Kenver stepped back.
“That’s the last of it,” said the driver. “I’ll be off.”
Taking the hint that he wished to be paid, Kenver walked out of the room with him.
“It’s too bad London is so far,” the Duchess of Tereford said as she and James were going down to dinner at Poldene that evening. “We could have equipped Tresigan five times over from the town house.”
“That broken-down stuff?” The duke shook his head. His predecessor had been peculiar, hoarding household goods and leaving mountains of disintegrating furnishings behind.
“There were gems here and there,” she replied.
“Literally. Uncle Percival was quite mad.” He paused on the stair. “This meal is likely to be awkward.”
Cecelia stopped beside him. “Yes.”
“We’ve heard about the shouting.” Their valet and lady’s maid had made friends among the staff and kept them informed. “We are implicated in the Pendrennons’ departure, as Tresigan is ours.”
“Yes,” she repeated.
He waited a moment before going on to see if she would say more. When she did not, he added, “We could leave now. The house is repaired and inhabited. And there is the Leicestershire problem.”
Cecelia nodded. “Only…”
The duke raised an inquiring eyebrow.
“What do you think Lady Trestan will do? Say about Sarah?”
He examined her anxious face, then tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and proceeded down the stairs.
Their host and hostess looked grim as they all sat down at the dinner table. “Our son will not be joining us,” said Lord Trestan.
“As you must know, since he has moved into your property,” said his wife sourly.
