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Her tone held no hint of reproach or suggestion that he was six no longer and might have contacted his sister, but Sarah felt moved to defend him anyway. “Your parents make a great fuss at any mention of your name. I believe they made Kenver feel…” She broke off, uncertain how to complete that sentence.
Tamara waved this aside. “I know their methods. Or Mama’s, I should say. Our father does as he’s told.” She contemplated this sourly for a moment. “Well, I ran off to marry my despised suitor—a fine man who was kind to me and perfectly respectable, though not noble or wealthy enough for my parents. We were happy together, until he died two years ago.”
“I’m sorry. We didn’t know that.”
“I saw no reason to inform people here.” Tamara shrugged. “I knew my parents didn’t care, and if they had pretended to… Or worse, congratulated me! Yes, I can imagine Mama doing that.” She frowned. “Well, I am still angry at her, I suppose. I do tend to hold a grudge.”
She admitted this as if it was the merest nothing. Once again, Sarah envied her brash confidence. “So you…you live in Lincolnshire?”
“Yes, I manage the Deane estate for my son, until he is of age.”
“You have a son?” How could a family know so little about one of its members, Sarah wondered. They ought to be aware ofthis, at least.
“Henry. He is ten.” Tamara smiled fondly.
“Surely your parents would like to meet him,” Sarah exclaimed.
“Do you think so?”
In fact, she didn’t know. One expected people to welcome a grandchild.Herparents eagerly awaited one, or several. But Kenver’s family was not like any Sarah had encountered before. “Well,Ishould like to,” she replied.
Tamara smiled. “We must see that you do. He is visiting a school friend just now.” She looked at Sarah more closely. “Is it true that Kenver carried you off like the young Lochinvar?” She grinned. “‘So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung!’”
“There was nothing like that.”
“I didn’t think there could be. Kenver was rather a timid boy.”
“He isn’t timid!”
“No?”
“He is brave and honorable and kind.”
Tamara’s smile grew warmer. “I’m glad to hear it. I never had a chance to know him.”
Sarah subsided, startled by the strength of her reaction. “What made you think of Lochinvar?”
“Oh, there are some wild stories circulating about your marriage, Sarah. That one came from a friend of mine in the neighborhood. Well, acquaintance now, I suppose, since we never see each other. But girlhood bonds can be lasting.”
Thinking of her school friends, Sarah nodded.
“She is very romantical. And devoted to the works of Walter Scott. Thus, Lochinvar. I admit that curiosity overcame me. That and…”
Sarah waited, but her guest didn’t finish the sentence. Instead her eyes narrowed at some inner calculation.
“So you were not swept off on horseback. I could not see how that would have happened.” She made an airy gesture. “From where and why?” She leaned a little forward. “How did you come to marry into the Pendrennon family against my mother’s wishes?”
“You know that she doesn’t…”
“My mother made her views clear. As she does. Acquaintances of mine know friends of hers, and so the gossip travels. Yours must be a heroic tale, because I know the kind of opposition Mama can mount.”
“Kenver and I…met at Tintagel,” Sarah said.
“A legendary beginning!”
The story was not a secret. Many people knew the outline, and others were apparently embroidering shamelessly. Sarah told Kenver’s sister about their night in the sea cave and the aftermath.
“That is nearly as thrilling as Lochinvar,” Tamara said when she was done. “And has a happy ending as well. We never hear what happened to Lochinvar and his stolen bride. They might have ridden off a cliff and been killed.”
