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“You’re nervous.”
“Is it that obvious?”
Struggling to keep a straight face, Dustin gestured toward the tea table. “You’ve put six lumps of sugar in your tea and eaten four scones in five minutes.”
Ariana looked mortified.
Dustin chuckled, leaning forward to squeeze her hand. “You’re charming when you’re nervous,” he assured her. “But I wouldn’t like to think that I’m the perpetual cause.”
“You’re not. It’s only that I seem always to be turning to you for help.”
“I’m flattered … and delighted that you feel comfortable enough to come to me. Now, what can I do to assist in your plans?”
“I want you to design the sitting room for me. Trenton would want it that way.”
For long moments Dustin did not answer, staring silently at Ariana until she feared he meant to refuse. Then, with a tender expression, he brought her fingers to his lips. “Remind me to tell my brother how lucky he is.” Releasing her hand, he extended his own open palm. “Let me see your drawings.”
Ariana’s joy rapidly faded. “Well, you see, that’s the problem.”
“What is?”
“I’m not a very good sketcher. You might not be able to picture my ideas too well.” Ariana inhaled sharply. “The truth, Dustin, is that I am perhaps the worst artist in England. Were I to display my sketches, babies would cry and hunting dogs would howl as far as twenty miles away.”
Dustin threw back his head and laughed. “I see. Then what do you propose? Would you like to describe what you have in mind and I’ll sketch while you talk?”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ve written detailed descriptions of every portion of the remodeling,” she supplied, eagerly handing him the notebook. “I think you’ll be able to create wonderful sketches based on these.”
Quickly skimming a few pages, Dustin nodded. “These are excellent, Ariana. What you lack in artistic ability you make up for in imagination and writing skill. I’ll do some samples right away … especially since I have the feeling you want this project completed yesterday.” He grinned, pointing to something in the notebook that caught his eye. “One question: Do I need to pick these specific flowers myself?”
“No, of course not.” Ariana gave him a sheepish smile. “I’ll take care of that part.”
“Good. Because I have absolutely no idea what hawthorn looks like.”
“I’m sure you don’t. You probably don’t run from cuckoos either.”
“Pardon me?”
“Never mind.” Ariana rose. “I won’t take up any more of your time. I’m sure you need to get back to your horses.”
“Would you like to see them before you go?”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, I’d love to!” A shadow crossed her face. “On second thought, perhaps next time. I’d best get back to Broddington in case Trenton needs me.”
“Ariana.” Dustin stayed her with his hand. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She hesitated, not because she had any reservations about Dustin’s trustworthiness, but because she knew Trenton would wring her neck if she upset Dustin by telling him about this bizarre situation.
“Ariana …” Dustin’s tone was more emphatic this time. “Is something wrong with Trent?”
Her instincts and her heart won. “Not physically. But some peculiar things have been happening, and he’s terribly upset.”
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?”
