Page 55 of Blame It on the Earl (The Duke's Estates 3)

He frowned down at the page. “What do you mean to do, Sarah?”

“Discover the truth!” The zest that had filled the investigations with her school friends was back. This was what she did, after all. She solved mysteries. The thought of digging into this one made her feel more like herself.

“To what end?”

“Well, simply toknow, first of all.” Sarah thought this self-evident. “And then we shall see. Don’t you wish to find out?”

He hesitated.

“What about your quest to right wrongs? Is that only words for tenants and villagers?”

“We don’t know there is a wrong.”

“A girl of what, eighteen, leaves her home and is never spoken of again. On penalty of metaphorical whizzing bullets? I think that sounds wrong.”

He frowned.

“We’ll begin by questioning the servants,” Sarah declared.

“You are allowed to speak to the staff, I suppose.”

“Mama won’t…”

“Your mother will never like anything I do,” Sarah interrupted. “So I may as well do something useful and interesting.” The way things stood at Poldene, one more disagreement scarcely mattered. Though Kenver’s sister was clearly a larger issue.

“You don’t really believe that.”

“That I should do something useful? I certainly do!”

“No, that Mama will never like anything you do.”

She hadn’t wished to come between them, but really he must see this. It was so blatant. “Your parents have made it very clear that they do not want me here and wish we had not married. They work against it every day. Particularly your mother.”

“But they are adjusting.”

“I’ve seen no sign of it, Kenver. Have you? Really?”

He started to speak, then stopped.

“I don’t like to upset you.” Sarah folded up the letter and put it in the pocket of her riding habit, from which it could not “disappear.” It would be best to ask her questions immediately, before the countess thought to forbid all mention of her daughter. Again. “I am going to inquire,” she said.

“Perhapsyouare the fearless knight,” Kenver said. “And I am…” He spread his hands.

“Notthe damsel in distress,” Sarah cut in. “Though it would bedamoiseauactually.”

“Dam…what?”

“That is the male equivalent of ‘damsel.’ It’s French.”

“How do you know that?”

“I…”

“Read it somewhere,” they said in unison.

His smile was tender. Hers was sheepish.

“You are brave and chivalrous and determined,” said Sarah.

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