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“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.”
Ariana had to smile. “What brilliant words did Sir Francis have on the subject?”
“‘Certainly virtue is like precious odors, most fragrant when they are incensed or crushed: for prosperity doth best discover vice, but adversity doth best discover virtue.’”
“The latter most definitely applies to Trenton.” Ariana tilted her head questioningly at Theresa. “One of my main worries is that the former applies to Baxter.”
“Your brother is indeed a greedy man. If wealth has been placed in or near his hands, he may cast scruples aside.”
“Do you think he is behind the delivery of the book and the eerie incident at the beach?”
Theresa studied her folded hands. “He has both the motivation and the hatred. But he lacks the cunning and the fortitude.”
“My thoughts exactly. Still”—Ariana shook her head, baffled—“I have the nagging suspicion that Baxter’s desire to make amends is just a little too timely to be mere coincidence.”
“Your instincts again, pet. Heed them well.”
“But Baxter’s potential involvement still doesn’t address one important question: Who is impersonating Vanessa?”
“Ah. Now we need to return to my view of appearance.”
“Your view of appearance?” Ariana was completely at sea. “How does that apply here?”
“Because as I’ve said, appearance varies depending upon one’s perspective and is often not as one believes it to be.”
