Andrea Kane (42 page)

Neither Baxter nor Ariana replied.

“In my opinion,” Vanessa concluded, “the best alternative is to have Trenton committed to a lunatic asylum. Then Ariana can freely indulge in his wealth … as can we.
That
is our best choice.” She turned cold green eyes on Baxter. “You offered to assist me. Now is your opportunity to do so. Convince our sister to write a letter to her husband, stating her fear of his violent instability and begging him to seek help; tearfully advising him that she will otherwise have no alternative but to leave him forever, assuring him that if he agrees to commit himself, she will stand by him until he recovers … and have her add whatever other romantic drivel you deem necessary. Actually, have her write two letters, one to be delivered to Broddington, the other to Spraystone. That way Trenton will be sure to receive it, regardless of his whereabouts. If things go as I hope, Trenton will be committed to an asylum and we will be quite wealthy.” Her jaw tightened. “And with enough money I can make certain Henri never hurts me again.”

“And if I won’t write the letter?” Ariana demanded. “If instead I go directly to the authorities and tell them of your sick scheme?”

“Then I’ll kill your precious husband, Ariana.” Vanessa smoothed back her hair. “Remember, a corpse cannot be convicted of murder. And even if I am discovered alive and sentenced for my crime, it would be preferable to going back to Henri. So you see, baby sister, I have nothing to lose.”

A coldhearted smile touched Vanessa’s lips. “Unfortunately, darling, you do.”

B
RODDINGTON SEEMED UNUSUALLY SOMBER
, almost as if, during the duke’s absence, a heavy cloud had settled upon its sculptured walls.

Trenton frowned as he mounted the steps, wondering if the unsettling sensation were only his imagination playing peculiar tricks on him. Lord only knew, it was quite adept at doing that. Still …

“Quiet, isn’t it?” Dustin verbalized Trenton’s thoughts aloud, scanning the grounds before following his brother through the front door. “At this time of day, Ariana is normally trailing about the gardens, taking notes on various flying creatures. Unless she’s …” He glanced toward the main staircase, silencing the remainder of his thought. If Ariana were nowhere to be found, she was probably in Trenton’s new sitting room, putting final touches on the wall hangings.

“Unless she’s where?” Trenton jumped on Dustin’s hesitation.

“Your Grace! I wasn’t expecting you!” Jennings hurried toward them, blinking his beady eyes in distress. “I didn’t receive word you’d be returning today.”

“I sent no word,” Trenton returned. “On impulse, I decided to return from Wight with the marquis. So you can calm yourself, Jennings. You had no way of knowing I’d be arriving at Broddington this morning.”

Jennings visibly relaxed.

“Is the duchess already dining?” Trenton asked, handing Jennings his coat.

“Why, no, Your Grace. The duchess has been away from Broddington since daybreak.”

Every muscle in Trenton’s body went taut. “Where did she go?”

Nervously licking his lips, Jennings sprinted over to the calling-card table in the hallway and snatched up a note. “She left a message for the marquis.”

“I’ll take it, Jennings.” Quickly, Dustin unfolded the note so both he and Trenton could read it.

Dustin:

I’ve thought of little else but our talk and all it revealed. The answers lie at Winsham, and I’ve gone to seek them. This is something I must do alone. With any luck, a solution awaits us. Don’t worry about me.

Ariana

“She’s with that unscrupulous brother of hers.” Trenton jerked his coat from Jennings’s hands and slammed back into it. “I’m going after her.”

“Don’t, Trent.” Dustin grabbed hold of his brother’s arm. “It would solve nothing. Baxter’s not going to hurt her and perhaps she really will learn something. Have a little faith in your wife.”

After a lengthy silence, Trenton nodded. “All right,” he conceded reluctantly. “But if she’s not back by midafternoon, I’m going to Winsham and bringing her home myself. I don’t trust Caldwell, or his motives.”

“But you trust Ariana.”

“Yes.”

“Then wait.”

Another terse nod. “Until three o’clock. Not a moment longer.”

As it turned out, they had only to wait until noon before the message arrived.

“A letter for you, Your Grace,” Jennings announced in the drawing room entranceway. “From the duchess.”

“For me?” Trenton scowled even as he strode forward to take the message. “How did Ariana know I’d returned?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just tore open the letter and began to read. With every word, his expression stiffened, his eyes registering first shock, then pain, and finally anger and bleak resignation.

At last, with a vicious oath, he crumpled the note into a ball and flung it to the floor, stalking over to gaze out of the window, his back turned to the other men.

Dustin rose, dismissing Jennings with a swift inclination of his head. The butler hastened from the room, closing the doors discreetly behind him.

“What is it, Trent?”

“Read it yourself.” Trenton’s tone was strangled.

Dustin scooped up the crumpled page and read:

Dear Trenton:

I’m sending you this letter both at Broddington and at Spraystone to be certain that it reaches you. What I have to say is far too important to take the risk of its not finding its way into your hands.

My love for you is absolute, and will never vacillate or desist. Never forget that.

These past few days of solitude have given me the opportunity to objectively ponder your behavior and how it affects our life together. You know I’m afraid of you. I’ve told you so more times than I can recount. At first I had only your irrational anger and vengeance to contend with, and perhaps, by themselves, I could have withstood them. But now you’ve become delusional, seeing people who no longer exist, striking out at me as if I were a dreaded enemy—one you mean to destroy.

I have wracked my brain for a solution to this agony, one that would help you and, at the same time, make our marriage a viable one. What I have decided may sound cold and unfeeling, but I assure you, I do believe it is our only hope; not just yours alone, but ours as well.

I ask that you commit yourself to an appropriate facility—for a short time only—where you can be among people who are able to help you understand the reasons for your disturbing visions and the mental confusion that has overtaken your life.

I know that, with the proper guidance, you will resolve your internal turmoil and soon be restored to the fine man you truly are.

Until you have acted upon my plea, I’ve decided to stay at Winsham with Baxter, for my own protection. I know the fact that I am safe and secure will comfort you greatly. I cannot, in all honesty, claim that I will miss my weeks at Broddington, nor am I eager to return. Without you there, the estate is a shell of a dwelling, reflecting no part of my soul amid its empty walk. Perhaps with your recovery, that will change and we can begin to build a life together, making Broddington a home and breathing vitality into its sterile rooms.

Please, Trenton, for my sake as well as your own, please heed my plea. Take the necessary steps. It’s the only way.

All my love, Ariana

Dustin reread the letter three times before he looked up, confused and uneasy. He was about to express his worry, when he noted his brother’s taut shoulders and rigid stance. A wave of compassion swept through him as he realized what Trenton had inferred from the note, obviously having read the lines but not between them. And now, beneath his proud exterior, Dustin’s invincible older brother was emotionally crumbling.

There was no way Dustin would permit that.

“Trent …” He went over to lay a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You don’t understand. … It’s not what it seems.”

“I understand perfectly, Dustin.” Trenton didn’t turn around, but his voice was hoarse, laden with emotion. “Ariana’s right. I was a fool to believe otherwise. I
am
insane. … It’s the only possible explanation for all this. I don’t blame her for being afraid. I’m twice her size. … I’d be able to crush her with my bare hands. How can she continue to live with me, share my life, my bed?” He swallowed audibly. “Perhaps an asylum of some kind is the only way.”

“Listen to me, you blind, stubborn fool!” Dustin exploded. “Ariana doesn’t believe one wretched word in this letter. … She’s trying to tell you something!”

Abruptly, Trenton turned. “What the hell are you talking about? She’s making her feelings perfectly clear!”

The anguish on his brother’s face was nearly Dustin’s undoing. “The handwriting is Ariana’s, Trent. But the sentiments are not.” He waved the letter under Trenton’s nose. “Read it again; only this time
really
read it.” Arms folded across his chest, he waited patiently while Trenton reread the note.

“She wants me to seek help.” Trenton’s eyes were red-rimmed and grim. “If I don’t heed her plea—”

“Precisely: her plea. She’s asking for your help, Trent. What worries me is, I don’t know why.” Ignoring Trenton’s skeptical look, Dustin pointed to the flowing hand. “See? She’s hoping you’ll believe in her love enough to realize she’d never leave you like this. She reinforces that with every line. Would you
really
feel soothed knowing she’s with Baxter? She knows damned well you wouldn’t! Is she
truly
afraid of you? Think about that, Trent. Is she? Has she ever been?”

A sliver of an image flashed through Trenton’s mind: the Covington maze; the night he and Ariana had met.

“What’s the matter, misty angel? Are you afraid of me?”

“No … I’m not afraid … I’m still not afraid.
…”

Their forced wedding ceremony … their wedding night … time after countless time when she could have been—
should
have been—terrified of him, she wasn’t.

“No,” Trenton admitted aloud. “Ariana is not afraid of me.

“That’s right. Nor does she believe you’re delusional or unstable.
I
was with her last evening. I should know.”

“If you only knew how badly I want to believe you’re right.” A flicker of hope glinted in Trenton’s eyes.

That did it. Dustin scanned the rest of the letter—and made a decision, one he felt confident Ariana intended that he make. It was the strongest hint she was providing; and the least likely one for Trenton to understand. But Dustin knew something Trenton did not.

“Let your wife convince you herself.” Dustin gestured toward the door. “Follow me.”

“What?”

“Just do as I say.” Dustin didn’t wait but flung open the drawing-room doors and made his way down the hall and up the stairway to the second level. Several times he glanced behind him to make certain Trenton was following. He was, treading with automatic, wooden footsteps.

Until he saw where they were heading.

“Why are we going into that room?” he demanded, halting in his tracks.

“You’ll see.” Dustin swung open the door and waited. “If you don’t enter on your own, I’ll drag you in. The choice is yours.”

Trenton’s eyes narrowed on his brother’s face. Then he complied. “All right, Dustin. I’ll go into Father’s sitting room. But if this is your idea of comfort or your attempt at making a point …” He stopped, his voice catching in his throat.

“It’s not Father’s sitting room any longer, Trent,” Dustin said softly. “It’s yours.”

“What have you done?” Trenton choked, his legs carrying him forward of their own volition.

“It’s not what
I’ve
done. It’s what Ariana has done. That’s how I knew her letter was a lie. She left the greatest part of her soul amid these walls. … She left you her heart. Broddington’s walls are empty no longer, Trent. Ariana has seen to that. All because she loves you … deeply. As for what I did, my part was easy. I had only to assist her. The concept, the designs, the personal touches … they’re all your wife’s.”

Slowly, reverently, Trenton surveyed the room: the sweeping mahogany desk at the window, the thick oriental rug on the floor, the enlarged marble fireplace on the eastern wall. And the walls themselves: lined with drawings and sketches Trenton recognized immediately from a joyous lifetime ago—his father’s creations.

But even more moving were the loving accents that cried out Ariana’s name: the fragrant arrangement of flowers—blossoms he wouldn’t have recognized by name a month ago but now knew were marigolds, hawthorn, and violets—sprouting from a tall crystal vase on the side table; the architectural tomes that carefully lined the mahogany bookshelves; and, most of all, the meticulously stitched needlepoint that proudly graced the wall beside the window—a magnificent depiction of a great, wild bird in flight.

It was their white owl.

Emotion clogged Trenton’s throat, constricted his chest so tightly he couldn’t speak.

“Now you tell me,” Dustin asked quietly. “Is this the act of a woman who intends to abandon you, who has left no part of herself in your home, who doubts the longevity of your marriage? Is it, Trent?”

“When did she do all this?” Trenton managed.

“She came to see me some time ago. … In fact, it was the day Jennings told you she was in London shopping. We planned the sketches then. But the reason Ariana summoned me to Broddington this week, during your absence, was to help her complete the room prior to your return. She stood here beside me every day, organizing and arranging. … Praying that you’d come home soon—to Broddington … to her. I’ve said it before, Trent: You’re a lucky man. Ariana’s love is something rare and precious and, as she tells you herself in that otherwise fabricated letter, her love is absolute and will never vacillate or desist.” Dustin laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “To echo your wife’s words, never forget that. Never.”

“I won’t,” Trenton vowed, his expression humble, his eyes damp. He walked over to the needlepoint, traced its intricate rim, and smiled at the perfect replica of Odysseus his wife had created. The owl was, just as Ariana wished, unhindered by man, winging his way through the skies, able to soar wild and free.