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Baxter frowned. “Right, but you and I know he’s not mad. Just as we know he
’s not guilty of murder.”
“But he doesn’t.”
“You’ve lost me, Ness.”
Vanessa laughed, spinning around to grip Baxter’s hands. “Don’t you think that after six years of bearing the onus of suspicion, there’s a whisper of doubt in Trenton’s mind as to what really happened that night?”
“I don’t know; I never thought about it.”
“Well, think about it now. A woman dies suddenly. Trenton Kingsley was the last person to see her alive. He had both motive and opportunity to kill her. The world deems him guilty. The cause of the woman’s death is never determined, as her body is lost forever in the River Arun. Maybe, just maybe, as the years wear on, Trenton Kingsley occasionally awakens, bathed in sweat, wondering if he actually did kill her.”
“That’s an interesting possibility. I rather like the idea of Kingsley being tortured by doubt.” On the heels of his taunting remark, Baxter sobered. “Let’s suppose you’re right. A shred of doubt is hardly enough to drive the man insane, especially if it hasn’t done so already. Plus you’re forgetting something else: Ariana believes Kingsley. You heard her. She thinks he’s completely innocent. So if anything, she’ll help to eliminate any doubts he might have.”
“Unless we create new ones … doubts so powerful that neither Ariana nor Trenton can ignore them.”
“We can’t do anything. You’re dead, remember?”
“Yes, I am, aren’t I?” Vanessa smiled triumphantly. “Only you and I know otherwise. So what do you think it would do to Trenton’s mind if a dead woman suddenly returned from the grave? If she mysteriously reappeared—for his eyes only, of course—during sporadic moments and in specific places? How long do you think he’d remain sane?”
A victorious light shone in Baxter’s eyes. “I always said you were brilliant, Ness.”
“And I always agreed with you, Baxter.”
“I presume you’ve worked out all the details?”
“Of course. Mysterious appearances are just the beginning of our little scheme. Can I count on your help?”
Baxter’s lips curved into a vindictive smile. “When do we begin?”
Vanessa tapped her chin thoughtfully, her gaze automatically veering in the direction of Broddington. “Oh, we’ve already begun, dear brother.”
CHAPTER
19
TRENTON WAS AS RESTLESS as a caged tiger.
Prowling from one room to the next, he could concentrate on nothing save what was transpiring at Winsham right now. It seemed days, rather than hours, since Ariana had marched from Broddington into the waiting Kingsley carriage, set on confronting her brother. She’d made no attempt to conceal her destination, nor to camouflage the fact that she intended to go alone.
Despite his anxiety, Trenton had to smile. He hadn’t seen this side of Ariana before, this fiercely determined woman hell-bent on discovering the truth and avenging the apparent wrongs she felt her husband had endured. Evidently, his beautiful, ethereal bird-watcher could be as passionate in her principles as she was in her bed: a fact that Trenton found thoroughly exhilarating.
Sinking down onto the drawing-room sofa, Trenton leaned his head against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. His own emotions were extremely complex and raw at the moment: a combination of shock and pleasure that Ariana believed in him, tentative hope and wonder that she loved him still, unsettled agitation that the past had once again been resurrected—and a strange premonition of dread, the most troubling emotion of all.
Vaulting to his feet, Trenton began to pace, attempting to analyze the reason for his feeling of foreboding, simultaneously wondering how Baxter was responding to Ariana’s onslaught. Was he denying all her accusations? Was he upsetting her? Frightening her?
The ironic thing, Trenton realized, halting abruptly, was that the only worry he never entertained was that Baxter might be swaying Ariana’s opinion. Her faith was, quite simply, too strong. Lord alone knew what Trenton had done to deserve it, but he was as sure of its existence as he was that the sun would rise each day.
As sure as he was that he, in turn, trusted his wife.
Trust: That elusive feeling that had evaded him for so long, that same intrinsic belief Ariana felt for him, unfolded inside Trenton now. A miracle, perhaps, but real nonetheless. He trusted his wife.
Jennings cleared his throat from the doorway. “P-p-pardon me, Your Grace …” He blinked rapidly from beneath his cap of red hair.
“Yes, Jennings, what is it?”
“There’s a gentleman here, sir. He has a package for you.”
