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“Yes.” Theresa’s answer was a statement, not a question. She continued to ready the duke’s and duchess’s bedroom for their return.
Dustin cleared his throat, skimming past the letter’s preliminaries, focusing on the curious section that followed. “Trent writes, ‘that which is past is gone and irrevocable.’”
Theresa nodded sagely. “His Grace is quoting Sir Francis. A wise choice.”
“Oh.” Dustin stared at Theresa. “I see. Well, Trent assures us that he and Ariana are both well and will return home from Spraystone in several days.”
“Four days, to be precise: a sensible decision.” Theresa straightened, inclining her head quizzically in Dustin’s direction. “What is your question, my lord?”
Shaking his head in perpetual amazement, Dustin returned to the note. “Trent goes on to say that Shakespeare knew of what he wrote when he said, ‘At Christmas I no more desire a rose, than wish a snow in May’s new-fangled mirth; but like of each thing that in season grows.’ He concludes by asking me to seek you out to say that your taste is superb and that ‘a man must make his opportunity, as oft as find it.’“
“Sir Francis again.” Theresa patted the bulging volume in her apron pocket.
“What does it mean, Theresa?” Dustin was at his wits’ end.
The elderly lady’s maid smiled. “It means, my lord, that you and I have our work cut out for us.”
“Are you sure Dustin and Theresa know we’re all right?” Ariana asked, propping her chin on her husband’s chest.
“Positive. I sent them a message before we left port.” Trenton gathered handfuls of his wife’s glorious hair, tugging her face down to his. “Why? Are you so eager to leave Spraystone?”
“No.” She breathed the word against his lips, knowing that anywhere Trenton was would be home for her.
“Have I thanked you for my sitting room?” he asked solemnly.
“Do you really like it?” Ariana disentangled herself from her husband’s embrace, her eyes alight with pleasure.
“It’s everything you willed it to be and more: a perfect combination of an apt tribute, a cherished sanctuary and a magnificent testimonial of my wife’s rare and precious love.” Trenton framed her face between his hands. “Thank you, misty angel.”
Ariana’s eyes grew damp. “I owe you thanks, as well. Never have I seen a more selfless gesture than the one you displayed at Winsham today. After all the anguish Vanessa has put you through …” Ariana felt emotion well up inside her. “To not only allow her to go free, but to provide her with funds.”
“The idea was yours, not mine,” Trenton reminded her.
“Nevertheless, you agreed. In spite of everything.”
Trenton traced Ariana’s soft lower lip with his thumb. “From what you told me on our boat ride to Wight, your sister has paid bitterly for her ruthlessness. I’d be lying if I said I feel forgiveness. I’m not even certain I’m capable of compassion where Vanessa is concerned. However”—Trenton’s expression softened—“she did inadvertently provide me with what I now recognize as my life’s greatest treasure. You.”
“I love you,” Ariana whispered.
“I know. Thank God for that.”
“Trenton?”
“Hmm?”
“About Baxter.” Ariana took a deep breath. “I don’t expect your opinion of him to change … and I respect your reasons; those stemming from the past as well as the present. But he’s not a wicked man, Trenton, only a pitiful one. In my heart I know he cares for me, although his love is shallow and will always take second place to his less than reputable priorities.”
“And he’s your brother.” Trenton had remained quiet throughout Ariana’s hurried explanation. Now he silenced her by laying his forefinger across her lips. “Personally, I detest the man. But I happen to love his sister very much; so I can afford to be magnanimous. Give me some time, misty angel. Then, if you want to see him, I won’t stand in your way. But never at Winsham and never alone.”
“Agreed.” Ariana’s eyes shone. “You see? I told you you’re a wonderful man.”
“And I told you I’m no hero.”
“You’re wrong.”
“You’re beautiful.” Words suddenly inadequate, Trenton rolled Ariana onto her back, gazing down into her fathomless turquoise eyes. “I love you,” he told her reverently. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you, my extraordinary wife, but I don’t ever intend to lose you.”
“I don’t ever intend to give you the opportunity.” Ariana caressed the bare expanse of his broad shoulders, wound her arms around his neck. “Fate intended for us to be together. Theresa foresaw that from the start. I should have recognized it, too … from the moment you rescued me … and my ankle … from the Covington maze.”
