She proceeded to pour out the whole story, from Trenton’s vision on Wight, to the mysterious book delivery, to the inexplicable appearance of the lantern. Last, she told him about the apparition of Vanessa that Trenton was convinced he’d seen.
Dustin listened silently, the clenching of his jaw the only indication of his distress.
“Trenton believes Baxter is behind this,” Ariana concluded.
“That doesn’t surprise me. … And it is the logical assumption.” Dustin paused. “The question is, what do you think?”
Ariana shook her head. “I know my brother. Groundless cruelty has never been his forte, nor is he devious by nature. He is, however, greedy and shallow … neither of which would precipitate so complex a plan. He’d cajole a robin out of her nest if the eggs were worth a large enough sum, but not for the sole purpose of torturing the bird. I know he detests Trenton. But what could he gain from intentionally tormenting him?”
“That’s true,” Dustin agreed pensively. “It does seem to leave a piece of the puzzle still missing. Not to mention that Baxter’s guilt wouldn’t explain the identity of the woman posing as Vanessa.”
“No … but someone is intentionally masquerading as my sister,” Ariana rushed on to defend. “Trenton didn’t imagine what he saw at the river. … I’m as sure of his sanity as I am of my own.”
“You’ll get no argument from me.” Dustin gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m on your side, sweetheart.”
Ariana bowed her head, her long lashes sweeping her cheeks. “I know you are. … And I’m sorry if I snapped at you. It just hurts me so to see him suffer like this.” Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “I intend to unravel this mystery.”
“Where is Trent now?”
“Asleep … finally. He was out walking, all night and agonizing all morning. I left word with Jennings that I was in London shopping.” A faint smile touched her lips. “I want the sitting room to be a surprise.”
“My lips are sealed.” Dustin cupped her chin, raising it so he could meet her troubled gaze. “Let me help you solve this dilemma. We both love Trent. But we also both know he is a stubborn, difficult, and unyielding man.”
“Who’d be more apt to accept help from his brother than from his wife,” Ariana finished defeatedly.
“No. Who is profoundly in love with his wife and determined to protect her.”
“You mean in case Baxter is involved?”
“To some degree, yes. Also remember that whoever is actually committing these bizarre acts could be unstable, possibly even dangerous.”
Ariana wet her lips with the tip of her tongue, her mind focusing on something Dustin had said. “Dustin, do you really think Trenton is in love with me?”
“I don’t think… I know.”
“He’s never said so.”
“Hasn’t he?”
Understanding dawned, coupled, with hope. “In his way … I suppose he has.”
“Words are very difficult for Trent. Have patience with him, Ariana. Someday the words will come.”
Ariana nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “Thank you, Dustin,” she whispered.
He gathered her against him for a brief, comforting hug. “Go,” he instructed into her bright hair. “You have a husband who needs you and I have some sketches to design for a very demanding patron.”
“Were you in London all this time?”
Hollow-eyed and pale, Trenton rose from behind his heavy library desk, looking questioningly at Ariana over the pile of papers that were strewn everywhere.
“I just got home,” she answered evasively, taking in his haunted expression with great concern. “I thought you’d still be in bed.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” He came around to face her. “What did you need in London?”
“Nothing special. I just wanted to do some shopping.”
“And did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Do some shopping?”
“Yes … no … well, actually, I did browse, but nothing caught my fancy.”
“Really.” He sounded odd, but Ariana didn’t dare meet his gaze for fear of betraying herself. Instead, she kept her gaze level with his waistcoat.
“Was the road repaired?”
“Pardon me?” Ariana tensed.
“The road to London. It was in sad need of repair. Did the carriage driver have any trouble?”
“I don’t think so. … I’m not certain…. I don’t recall”
“Were you at Winsham?”
Ariana’s head fell back with the impact of Trenton’s harsh accusation, his words lashing through her with the force of a whip. “What?”
“You heard me: Were you with your brother? Did you tell him everything that’s been happening?”
“Of course not!” Twin spots of red appeared on Ariana’s cheeks. “Do you honestly believe I would deceive you like that?”
“Not deceive me, misty angel … protect me.” Trenton’s jaw was clenched, as rigid as his tone, but his eyes were filled with tenderness. “I was afraid you’d had some misplaced notion of confronting Baxter and finding out if he was behind the bizarre events of the last few days.”
“No. I didn’t.”
“Good.” Trenton cupped her face. “I don’t want you involved. Whoever … whatever … is going on could be dangerous. I’ll deal with it myself.”
“Don’t shut me out.” She gripped his forearms. “Please, Trenton, I—”
“I know,” he answered gently, drawing her against him, enfolding her tightly in his arms. “Lord knows what I’ve done to deserve it, but I know.”
Laying her head against her husband’s chest, Ariana closed her eyes, forcing herself to focus on the strong, steady thud of Trenton’s heart.
Panic seized her, overwhelming, incomprehensible.
She loved this man, and her every instinct proclaimed that he loved her too.
Yet Ariana had the sudden, terrifying fear that a force more powerful than either of them could imagine lurked just out of reach, waiting to tear them apart.
CHAPTER
21
“THE VISCOUNT WINSHAM IS here to see you, Your Grace.”
Ariana dropped the fern she had been trimming and rose to her feet. “My brother? Here?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jennings bobbed his bright head. “He’s waiting in the drawing room. Shall I show him to the conservatory?”
“No, Jennings. I’ll go to him.” She glanced anxiously beyond the doorway. “The duke has left for London, hasn’t he?”
“Nearly an hour ago, Your Grace.”
“Good.” Nearly weak with relief, Ariana smoothed” her gown and headed down the hall. She had no idea why on earth Baxter had come to Broddington. But, thankfully, Trenton was meeting with his solicitor today to discuss the transference of Kingsley funds from London to Wight. So there was no chance that he and Baxter would run into each other.
“Baxter.” Ariana entered the drawing room, closing the door behind her. “What do you want?”
“Hello, sprite.” He came to his feet, all charm and smiles. “I’m so pleased to find you at home.”
“You knew I was at home, Baxter. Just as you obviously knew that Trenton was not. So you can amend your tactics and stop patronizing me.” She lowered herself to a cushioned armchair, folding her hands primly in her lap. “I’ve said all I intend to say. So why are you here?”
Baxter stared, the smile frozen on his face. “You astonish me, Ariana. Truly you do.”
“Why? Because I see through your facade?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps because I’m unused to viewing you as a very intelligent, very grown woman and not a child.”
“That’s the first honest thing you’ve said.” She gestured toward the sofa. “Can I offer you some refreshment?”
“No.” He reseated himself. “I didn’t come here to receive anything from you. I came to give something to you.”
“Which is?”
; “A heartfelt apology. Not only for hurting you, but for my unethical deeds of the past. You were right: I should never have accepted money … demanded money,” he corrected, “from Kingsley.”
“No. You shouldn’t have.” Ariana inclined her head, skepticism written all over her face. “Why have you suddenly decided to repent?”
“Because I love you. Because you’re my sister and I obviously hurt you deeply. Because you made me look objectively at my actions and myself. And what I saw didn’t make me very happy.” He leaned forward, gripping his knees tightly. “I’m not an evil man, Ariana. I never intended for Richard Kingsley to die. I was hurting … badly. Vanessa was gone, and I knew I’d never see her again. I wanted to kill the man who had taken her from me.”
“Trenton didn’t kill Vanessa.”
“Sprite.” Baxter held up his hand. “I didn’t come here to argue. I came to ask your forgiveness … and to make amends.”
“How do you propose to do that?”
“I can’t bring the late duke back to life, any more than I can alter any other events of the past. But I can return the fifty thousand pounds I took from your husband six years ago.”
“What?” Ariana started.
Baxter’s pale eyes beseeched her. “I’m not saying I don’t hate Kingsley. I’d be lying if I did. But for your sake, for the sake of our relationship, I’ll do it. You’re all I have left, sprite.” He seized her hand. “I don’t want to lose you. So I’ll do it.”
“Where in heaven’s name are you going to get fifty thousand pounds?”
“I’ve come into some unexpected money. No, not gambling,” he assured her, seeing the suspicious lift of her brows. “Mother and Father left me two paintings that I’d always thought to be practically worthless. Last week I had occasion to meet with a man who, as luck would have it, is an expert in assessing valuable paintings. When he heard the description of mine, he asked to see them. Evidently, they are worth a great deal of money.”
“You’re selling them?”
He nodded. “I’ll be receiving my first payment tomorrow: thirty thousand pounds. I’d like to turn it over to you.”
“I’m not the one to whom you owe the debt… Trenton is.”
Baxter’s lips drew into a tight, grim line. “There’s just so much humiliation I’m willing to endure … even for you. I have no intention of seeing Kingsley’s despicable face. You’ll have to give the money to him yourself.”
“Trenton will be home from London tonight.”
“I see.” Baxter scowled. “Then you and I obviously can’t make the exchange at Broddington.” He raised his head. “You come to Winsham. Tomorrow afternoon. At four o’clock.”
“I don’t know, Baxter.” Ariana hesitated.
“Why not? For God’s sake, Ariana, it was your home for eighteen years. All I’m asking is for an hour’s visit in order to hand you my check. Is that asking too much? Or have you disowned me completely?”
“No, Baxter, I haven’t disowned you.” Seeing the genuine plea in his eyes, she felt herself relent. “All right. I’ll be there.”
“Good.” He rose, making no attempt to disguise his relief. “Oh, I forgot something.” From around the side of the sofa, he extracted a large, flat box. “I brought you a gift.”
“That wasn’t necessary.”
“It was something I wanted to do.” He extended his arms. “Open it.”
Beneath the lid and filmy pink tissue was the loveliest peach silk morning dress Ariana had ever seen. “It’s beautiful,” she said, stroking the soft material. “Thank you, Baxter.”
“You like it?”
“Of course I like it.”
“Then wear it tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes. When you come to Winsham. It would make me very happy. And it would prove to me that you’re willing to accept my apology. Please, sprite.” He tugged at a lock of her hair.
“Fine.” Ariana gave him a guarded smile. “I’ll wear the gown. And I’ll be at Winsham as you’ve asked.”
“Wonderful!” He hugged her enthusiastically. “Then I’ll be on my way.” Dropping a quick kiss on her cheek, he headed for the door. “Until four o’clock tomorrow.”
Ariana watched him go, glancing down at the delicate fabric she held in her hands. First an apology, then a gift: What a drastic transformation Baxter had undergone. And in so short a period of time too. Perhaps too short and too drastic.
Returning the gown to its box, Ariana wondered uneasily if her initial reasoning had been sound. Could Baxter be involved in the horrifying events of the past few days? Lord, she hoped not. Not only for his sake, but for her own. She wanted so badly to trust her brother.
But she knew she couldn’t.
In Broddington’s drive, Baxter paused. Quickly he scanned the grounds, the gardens, the walls of the manor. Then with a decisive gesture to his driver, he climbed into the Caldwell carriage and was off.
“I don’t want you alone with that bastard. I don’t trust him.”
Trenton paced the length of Ariana’s room, his features taut with anger.
“Nor does he trust you.” Ariana slid a pin into her hair and turned to face her husband. “But I do. So please have faith in me.”
“I do have faith in you, misty angel. It’s your judgment I question. Why must you go to Winsham? Why couldn’t he merely have the check delivered to Broddington? In fact, why is he doing this at all? I don’t even want his bloody money!”
Ariana inclined her head thoughtfully. “I think he feels that the check is a symbolic gesture, as is presenting it to me personally. The same applies to my wearing the gown he bought me.”
“I still don’t like the idea of your going there.”
“Trenton, he’s my brother,” she said gently, laying her palm against her husband’s shirt front. “If he’d wanted to hurt me, he could have done so numerous times in the past. There’s nothing to fear. But,” she added, “if it will ease your mind, I’ll take Theresa with me.”
“You’re determined to see him?”
“Unless you forbid me to go, yes.” She gazed up at him, waiting.
Trenton clasped her waist. “I won’t forbid you. You are his sister. But, Ariana …” His eyes blazed cobalt fire. “You are also my wife.”
“I don’t intend to forget that.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his chin. “Theresa and I will be home in a few hours.”
“Home?”
Ariana smiled softly. “Yes: Home. To Broddington. And you.”
“How do I look?”
Vanessa whirled about, her eyes gleaming with triumph.
“Amazing.” Baxter shook his head. “The resemblance is staggering.”
“Between the gowns? Or the women?”
Baxter shot her an impatient look. “The gowns go without saying, Ness. They’re not only similar, they’re identical. I insisted that the dressmaker ensure that. No, I was referring to the resemblance between my sisters.”
“Then I succeeded?”
“Did you doubt that you would?”
“I had only your description to go by, Baxter. If you recall, I haven’t seen Ariana face-to-face since she was twelve. Apparently”—Vanessa smoothed her gown’s peach bodice with a dark smile—“she’s changed a bit in six years.”
“In all ways but her innocence,” Baxter concurred, with more than a trace of guilt. “Our baby sister is still the naïve dreamer she was as a child. Life has spared her much of its ugliness and disenchantment.” He frowned. “I only wish I could have sheltered you from the same.”
Vanessa’s features hardened. “Well, you couldn’t. But that’s all behind us. Now is the time for retribution. And have it, we shall.” She tucked a loose crimson strand behind her ear. “I’m not used to wearing my hair in so simple and unadorned a style. Are you certain Ariana prefers it this way?” Waiting only for Baxter’s nod, she continued: “Tell me again the best entry to Broddington.”
“Definitely through the c
hapel. It’s secluded and surrounded by trees. No one will see you approach.”
“Where is Trenton’s room located?”
Baxter started. “Ness, are you crazy?”
“Not in the least. For what I have in mind I need access to his bedroom. Do you know where it is?”
“I couldn’t very well ask Ariana if I might explore the second level of her husband’s home. It was hard enough scrutinizing the main floor and the grounds without being found out. Besides”—he shook his head—“I don’t want you in that madman’s bedchamber.”
“If I can slip through the main hall and up the stairs, I should be able to find the right room without too much trouble,” Vanessa mused aloud, totally ignoring Baxter’s protests. “From what you’ve told me, there are few servants living there. It’s afternoon: too late for the maids to be straightening up and too early for the cook to be preparing dinner. My only problem should be the butler. And, based upon your description of the pathetic, nervous fellow,” she said with a dismissive shrug, “he should be easy to outwit. The rest is up to me.”
The grandfather clock chimed three.
“It’s time,” Vanessa announced.
“I’m worried, Ness.” Baxter rubbed his palms together nervously. “What if someone should see you? Or worse, what if Kingsley discovers your pretense?”
“No one will see me, Baxter. Nor will Trenton figure out who I am. In fact …” Vanessa scooped up a waiting parcel and headed for the door. “By the time I’ve left Broddington, the Duke of Broddington won’t recognize truth from lies, reality from fantasy.” She paused at the threshold. “Or sanity from madness.”
“Trenton is not mad, Theresa.”
“Mad?” Theresa sniffed. “What an absurd notion. The duke is deeply troubled and confused … but never mad.”
Ariana leaned back in the jostling carriage, frustrated and despondent. “Yet he is questioning his own sanity.” She rubbed her eyes. “Oh, he has ceased discussing it, but I feel the anguish that relentlessly gnaws at him. He lies awake half the night, staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of the bizarre events that have occurred. I don’t know how to help him.”
“Have faith, love.” Theresa patted her arm soothingly. “I know it seems that your husband is walking through a dark tunnel from which there is no return. But he is strong. He will prevail. Remember what Sir Francis said about adversity.”