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His sister was silent until they were mounted and riding back toward Tresigan. “I’m going home,” she declared. “Today if I can.” She turned to gaze at him. “You understand that I have been very happy in Lincolnshire these eleven years.”
“Yes,” he said.
“My son does not need anything from Poldene. I shan’t be ‘begging’ for any share of the estate.” She scowled at the very idea. “Not from…them.” She gestured back toward the house. “Nor from you later on.”
Kenver thought she was owed something. The daughter of an earl should have received a substantial dowry. But he said nothing. He couldn’t do anything about it now. In future, they would see.
“I pity you, that youhaveto deal with them as the heir.”
He had nothing to say to that.
“But you know, you have a solid position. The title and estate come to you by law.” Tamara made a face. “Papa gave that as a reason that I must marry wealth. He said his hands were tied.”
“That doesn’t mean much right now.”
“You should speak to Figgs, find out things.”
Kenver wondered if his father’s solicitor would speak to him. He would probably consult Papa first, and that would cause another row.
“You can’t fight them without information,” Tamara added.
Was he to battle his own family? All his life, he’d wanted to fight for righteous causes and bring justice. He’d dreamed of triumphs on the field of honor. This didn’t feel like that.
Tamara left for home the day after this abortive attempt. Sarah was sad to see her go, because it seemed it would be a long time before they met again. Tamara had vowed never to set foot in Cornwall as long as her parents dwelt there.
Kenver was silent on this subject. He’d said very little about the visit to Poldene, leaving the description to his sister, but clearly it had not heartened him.
Sixteen
The day after Tamara’s departure, a groom arrived carrying a note from Poldene. Kenver’s mother informed them that his father was quite unwell and wished to see his son. She added that the state suite “repairs” were now complete, and the rooms stood ready for them to occupy.
“She doesn’t even mention the Terefords’ stay in the suite,” Sarah said to Kenver. “She makes it sound as if we moved out so that these repairs could be done.” Sarah found the timing of the missive unsettling. It seemed to her that Lady Trestan was aware of what was happening at Tresigan and had waited for Tamara’s departure to write.
Kenver was looking down at the crested page, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. “I wondered that Papa did not join us. I thought the servants would have told him that Tamara had come. I supposed he was out, but it seems he was ailing even then.”
“Wouldn’t your mama have said something?” If the illness was so serious, that would have been natural.
“She was rather occupied with raking Tamara over the coals.”
“Yes.”
He looked up at her tone. “What are you thinking, Sarah?”
“It’s just odd. Practically the moment Tamara is gone, we receive this news.”
“And you doubt it?”
Sarah thought that the earl’s illness might be feigned, because Lady Trestan wanted them back under her thumb after the scene with Tamara. But Sarah couldn’t know this for certain, of course. “You must go and see him.” Surely Kenver would be able to tell whether the malady was real.
“I suppose I must.” Kenver folded the note. He looked reluctant.
He’d been subdued since the visit, and Sarah didn’t blame him. She thought it might have opened old wounds.
“No, of course I must,” he went on before she spoke.
“Give him my hearty good wishes for a quick recovery.”
He took her hand. “You are always kind, Sarah.”
