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23
THE SITTING-ROOM RENOVATIONS WERE a blessing in disguise. For only when she and Dustin were immersed in the restorations did Ariana find peace. And, with the number of details to complete, the refurbishing took several long days.
Her nights were hell: lonely and empty; filled with doubts and fears. Trenton’s whereabouts were no longer a worry, for although he himself had made no attempt to contact her, his solicitor had, advising Ariana that Trenton was living at Spraystone. Lawrence Crofton had arrived at Broddington five days after Trenton’s disappearance to check on Ariana and to ensure her that His Grace had wired him from Wight and arranged for huge sums of money to be made available to his duchess.
Ariana didn’t give a damn about her newly acquired affluence. What she wanted was her husband.
She knew Trenton well enough to realize that neither coercion nor begging would bring him home. Nor did she foolishly believe he was staying away because he no longer cared for her. To the contrary, it was because he cared that he had banished himself from her life, returned to exile out of some misbegotten conviction that he was protecting her from himself.
No, the only way to bring Trenton back was to unravel the mystery and resolve the past. But how?
“He’s been at Spraystone a week now, Ness.” Baxter folded his hands behind his head and regarded his sister quizzically from the room’s single armchair. “Shouldn’t we be doin
g something?”
Vanessa smiled, reclining on the pillows. “What makes you think we haven’t been doing something?”
“What do you mean?”
“Trenton hasn’t been spared surprises during his stay on Wight. Ferries and yachts travel back and forth to the Isle quite frequently, you know.”
Baxter blinked, startled. “You’ve been to Spraystone?”
“Why of course! Twice, in fact. Both times under cloak of darkness. Once I merely left a handwritten, rose-scented note in the barn.”
“Saying what?”
A throaty chuckle. “Only that I loved him, that I couldn’t understand why he’d destroyed me, that I’d never leave him … not even in death.”
“Are you insane, Ness? What if Kingsley shows that note to someone? Someone who recognizes your handwriting?”
“What explanation would Trenton provide? That he received a letter from a dead woman? Who would believe him? Plus I didn’t date the note, Baxter. It could have been written any time, such as six years ago.” She arched one delicate brow. “May I continue?”
Baxter nodded.
“During my other visit to Spraystone, I called out to Trenton from beneath his bedroom window. It was the middle of the night. As soon as he appeared, I vanished into the trees. His estate is so isolated, it makes coming and going without being seen extremely easy.”
“I still don’t like the idea of your taking so many risks. … Why don’t you let me handle some of this?”
Vanessa shot Baxter an impatient look. “I hardly think you’d do an effective job of impersonating me. No, this is one aspect of the plan I have to handle myself. But don’t worry, darling. Your chance will come … very soon.”
“Theresa, I can no longer remain idle,” Ariana announced.
Leaning past her mistress, Theresa placed the vase of fresh wildflowers on Ariana’s dressing table. “No, I’m sure you can’t.”
“I love Trenton very much. There must be something I can do to help him.”
Theresa dropped her hands squarely onto Ariana’s shoulders, meeting her mistress’s gaze in the looking glass. “Your confusion has lifted like the morning mist. Your faith in your husband has become absolute. You no longer doubt his integrity or question his innocence. Fear has ceased to play even a small part in your marriage. The veil of uncertainty no longer obscures your vision; not when you view the duke, nor when you view your brother. It is now only a question of discovering that which remains hidden to the eye and not to the heart.” Tenderly, Theresa patted Ariana’s cheek. “Yes, pet, I would say there is definitely something you can do.”
“Help me, Theresa,” Ariana pleaded softly. “Tell me where to look.”
“Questions are always best answered at the source of their origin.”
“I have no questions of Trenton. I believe everything he’s told me, except for the absurd idea that he is mad. The only person I question is Baxter.”
“Then perhaps your answers lie at Winsham.”
Ariana twisted around in her chair and looked up at Theresa. “Is Baxter responsible for Trenton’s suffering?”
