While Baxter had nothing.
Leaning his head wearily against the walnut bookshelves, Baxter sought a miracle.
“Hello, Baxter.”
The quiet, slightly husky voice was as familiar to him as his own name. Startled, he swerved about and gaped.
“I was waiting for Coolidge to go on holiday,” the apparition continued. “I couldn’t take any chances of being recognized.” She loosened the hood of her mantle, dropping it to her shoulders. Reveling in the freedom from confinement, she shook out her luxurious red hair. “I never realized how difficult it was to be dead.”
“Vanessa.” He crossed the room in three strides and enveloped her in his arms. “Lord, I’m glad to see you! What the hell are you doing here?”
Vanessa gave a rich, throaty laugh and embraced her brother. “A mixed welcome, to say the least. Did you honestly think I’d stay away once I received your telegram? I left France the moment I could. I’ve been staying at an inn outside London.”
Baxter blinked, still shocked by the reality that Vanessa was actually here. “The telegram. Yes. Thank heavens I saved that address you sent me. Given the circumstances, I thought you had a right to know what had happened. I never expected you’d actually return to England—” He interrupted himself. “An inn? Why didn’t you come here? How long have you been in Sussex?”
“A little over a week. And, as I said, I couldn’t risk coming to Winsham, not until you were alone. Besides”—she caressed his cheek absently—“I wanted to do a little snooping on my own. Being dead has its advantages.”
“What are you talking about?” Baxter caught Vanessa’s hands in his.
“I’ve missed England,” she murmured, an odd light coming into her eyes. “I should have returned long ago.”
“You couldn’t. The consequences would have been dire.”
With a hollow laugh, Vanessa pulled away, strolling idly about the room. “The consequences could not have been more dire than what I’ve endured.”
Baxter squinted, looking—really looking—at Vanessa for the first time. “You look peaked, Ness.”
“Peaked?” She spun about, tugging open her mantle and spreading her arms wide. “Look at me, Baxter. I’m old. My face is pale, I’m gaunt, my eyes are lifeless.”
“You’re a young woman, for heaven’s sake!”
“In years, perhaps. In fact,” she said, smiling wearily, “I’m a very old woman. The fates have seen to that. I’m here because this could be the last chance I have.”
“What did your husband do to you?” Baxter demanded.
“Henri? Exactly what he promised he’d do when I ran off with him … except that he did it alone: lived hard and fast, spent money recklessly, traveled all over the world. What he also neglected to mention was that it was my money he would be gambling with, traveling with, frittering away … since he had not a penny to his name.”
“What about the great wealth he boasted?”
“The joke was on me, Baxter. I married Henri, went with him to France, for all he could offer me: a title, money, prominence. What I soon discovered was that those were the very things he planned to take from me.”
“He had nothing?”
“Oh, he had a title, for whatever good that did me. But he was penniless and powerless. And soon, so was I.”
“Your letters said nothing of this.”
“My letters were written under my husband’s watchful eye. I didn’t dare tell you the truth, or …” She shuddered, that hollow look coming back into her eyes.
“What has he done to you, Ness?” Baxter whispered, frightened by the change in his vivacious sister.
Wordlessly, Vanessa unbuttoned the top of her gown, yanking down a sleeve to bare one severely bruised, scarred shoulder to her brother’s horrified eyes. “This is just a sample of what the past six years have held for me.” She rebuttoned the gown. “Trust me, you don’t want to see the rest.”
“Dear God.” All the color drained from Baxter’s face. “Why did you stay?”
“He told me he would kill me if I left; that even if I managed to escape him, he would find me, and torture me.”
“Then how did you get away?”
“I stopped caring. Even death would be preferable to the hell that was my life. Your telegram was the motivation I needed. And here I am.”
“Ness …” He held out his arms.
“I didn’t come for your pity, Baxter. I came for your help.”
“I’d move heaven and earth for you, and you know it,” he declared fervently.
She walked into his embrace, laying her head on his shoulder. “You would, wouldn’t you? My wonderful, protective older brother. I’d forgotten how good it felt to be loved.”
“I want to break that bastard’s filthy neck. Where is he now?”
Vanessa shrugged. “With one of his mistresses, no doubt. I really don’t care.” Her chin set grimly. “All I know is that I’m not going back. Even if my plan fails … even if he comes after me … I’ll never go back.”
“I’ll kill him before I let him touch you,” Baxter bit out. Gently, he stroked her hair. “Your plan?” His sister’s words suddenly sank in. “What plan?”
“I’ll tell you in a moment.” She stepped back. “First you tell me about our sister and her advantageous marriage.”
Baxter frowned, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I told you everything in the telegram. Kingsley showed up here with an edict from the Queen. He and Ariana were married almost a month ago.”
“So she is now the Duchess of Broddington.”
“Precisely.”
Vanessa threw back her head and laughed. “Ironic, isn’t it? That after all my carefully laid plans, it is my timid little mouse of a sister who acquires it all. My, how she must have changed.”
“Actually, Ariana is much the same; only older and lovelier.” He smiled. “She looks a lot like you, Ness.”
“Except that she’s the one married to Trenton Kingsley!”
“After all that’s happened, you still want him?”
“I don’t want any man, Baxter.” Vanessa turned away. “All I want is the vengeance that’s owed me.” She laced her fingers together. “When did you last speak to Ariana?”
“A fortnight ago. She’s with Kingsley on the Isle of Wight.”
Vanessa spun around. “They returned a week ago.”
“How do you know that?”
“I told you. I’ve done some discreet checking.” She smiled, a hard, cold smile. “Which leads me to my plan. A plan that I need your help with … and one that involves money; a lot of money … and a very discreet seamstress. Have I piqued your interest?”
Baxter’s eyes gleamed. “I’m all ears.”
“Baxter? Baxter, where are you?”
The angry voice and vibrating door echoed through the house and interrupted whatever Vanessa had been about to say.
“It’s Ariana.” Baxter lurched forward, seizing Vanessa’s elbows.
“She can’t find me at Winsham.” Vanessa paled, whirling about, seeking somewhere to hide.
“She can’t find you anywhere—she thinks you’re dead,” Baxter hissed back, already heading for the hallway. “You stay here. I’ll handle it.” He was out of the room in three strides, slamming the door shut behind him. “Sprite? Is that you?” He put as much distance between himself and the library as he could, before colliding with Ariana at the foot of the stairs.
“Where were you?” she demanded.
“What do you mean? I was in my study.”
“Why didn’t Coolidge answer the door?”
“He’s on holiday. Ariana, what is the matter with you?”
“We need to talk, Baxter. Her turquoise eyes were ablaze with the kind of anger Baxter had never seen her display.
“Of course. Come with me.” He led her down the hall, past the library, to the comfortable morning room. “I tried to reach you. Theresa said you and your”—Baxter swallowed hard—“husband …
were in Wight.”
“We were. We’ve been back for a week.”
“I see.” Still reeling with the impact of Vanessa’s appearance, Baxter was having a difficult time comprehending the reason for Ariana’s rage.
But not for long.
“We’re going to talk about Trenton,” Ariana stated flatly, arms folded across her chest. “And about you. And about Vanessa.”
Baxter visibly started at the mention of Vanessa’s name. Ariana couldn’t know anything, could she? “What about us?” he managed.
“After I left Winsham two weeks ago, I read Vanessa’s journal.”
Relief, potent as brandy, surged through him. “Did you? And how did you talk your husband into showing it to you?”
“That’s not the issue, Baxter. The issue is that I now know everything our sister claimed happened between her and Trenton.”
“Claimed?”
“I’ve also spoken with my husband.” Baxter didn’t miss the emphatic possessiveness in her reference to Kingsley. “He told me everything.”
“Everything.” Baxter was “beginning to feel like a parrot. But for the life of him he couldn’t think of what to say.
“Yes. And now I’m here to try to understand how you could do such a thing. I know you’re greedy and self-centered, but for God’s sake, Baxter—”
“Wait just a bloody minute!” Baxter’s stupor vanished instantly. “Greedy? Self-centered? Whose words are those, Ariana: yours or Trenton’s?”
“Mine. Do you think I don’t know what you are just because you’re my brother?”
“You never maligned my character before!”
“I never had reason to. Your weaknesses never affected me … until now.”
“I raised you from the time Mother and Father died—”
“I raised myself, Baxter. With Theresa’s help. You gave me the roof over my head and spent whatever money Mama and Papa left for me. So let’s say that I’ve more than paid you back for what you’ve given me and dispense with the theatrics, all right?”
Baxter’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he spoke. “He’s certainly turned you against me, hasn’t he?”
“I’m not against you. I only want to know the truth.”
“What truth?”
“Did you blackmail Trenton into paying you fifty thousand pounds for that journal? And did Richard Kingsley die as a result of vicious slander that you spread throughout the ton?”
Baxter inhaled sharply, then sat. “And here I thought you were discovering new species of birds on the Isle.”
“Answer me: yes or no.”
“It isn’t as simple as that, sprite. Yes, Kingsley paid me … I believe it was fifty thousand pounds. But it wasn’t blackmail. It was a debt he owed me.”
“For what?”
“For what he did to our sister.”
“That’s blackmail,” Ariana retorted, shaking her head in disbelief. “I was half hoping you would deny it, or at least explain it. But you can’t, can you?”
“I’m trying to, Ariana. If you would just listen.”
“You really believe you were justified, don’t you? That’s the most frightening part.” Ariana dropped her arms dejectedly to her sides. “That’s always been your problem, Baxter. You do what you want, then explain it away by blaming others. Ever the victim, never the culprit.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t need to ask about Richard Kingsley. I know the answer. I suppose I knew it before I asked. Oh, Baxter, I pity you.” She turned to leave.
“Ariana!” He stormed up behind her and whirled her around. “You’ve only been married to the man for a month. How can you believe his word over mine?”
“Because he is telling the truth.”
“And what about Vanessa?”
“What about Vanessa? I don’t think we’ll ever really know the truth about her death. The only thing I do know is that my husband didn’t kill her. Nor did he drive her to suicide.” Ariana gave a hollow laugh. “The ironic thing is that he never even touched her.”
“That’s a lie!” Baxter bellowed, a vein throbbing in his temple. “If you’d seen her agony each night when she came home from him, when she left his bloody bed …”
“I’m not listening to another word.” Ariana turned on her heel. “I may forgive you someday, Baxter. But only because you’re my brother. What you did was despicable.”
The door slammed behind her.
“Ariana!” He recovered slowly, then took off after her. He reached the front door in time to see the Kingsley carriage disappear around the drive.
The echo of a solitary round of applause rang out behind him.
“That was quite a performance. Worthy of the stage. I am impressed: Our baby sister has indeed become a creature of great passion.”
Baxter swung around. “You heard?”
“How could I help but hear?” Vanessa asked, her brows raised in a sarcastic question. “Evidently, she and Trenton have become exceedingly close since wedlock.” She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Did you say Ariana is pretty? I’ve only caught glimpses of her from a distance.”
“Yes, but what the hell has that got to do with anything?”
“I was only wondering if His Grace has seen fit to take her to his bed.”
“You can stop wondering: He has.”
“How can you be sure?” Vanessa snapped.
“I asked. Ariana told me.” Baxter peered out the window to make certain there were no more surprise visitors, thus missing the look of twisted rage on his sister’s face. “Ness, you shouldn’t be out in the open like this.”
“Stop being so jumpy, Baxter. No one will see me.” Deliberately, Vanessa composed her features. “Ariana actually, told you that Trenton had bedded her?”
Baxter nodded. “Yes. At first I was livid, thinking he had forced her … the way he did you. I haven’t forgotten the stories you told me, Ness, or the way you looked some nights when you’d arrive home. I knew the man could be brutal. It sickened me to think he’d be that way again, this time with Ariana.”
“And was he?”
“No. That’s the strange part. She seems … well, happy, when she speaks of him. She cares for the scoundrel: It’s written all over her face.”
“I cared for him too.” Venomous hatred filled Vanessa’s eyes. “He used me. Discarded me like a pile of rubbish, destroyed my reputation. Or have you forgotten? He took my innocence, just as he took Ariana’s. Only mine he stole before we wed, with the promise that I’d soon be his wife, a promise he had no intention of fulfilling. The whole world expected me to become Mrs. Trenton Kingsley. I could have been with child … his child—but did he care? Not a whit! He threw me into the wet sand and walked away, not giving a damn if I was alive or dead.” She turned away, trembling with rage. “I’d forgotten how much I hate him. It’s because of Trenton Kingsley that I was forced to marry Henri, flee to France, and live six years of hell.”
“All that’s behind you now.” Baxter came to stand in back of her, placing his hands on her shoulders.
“It will never be behind me,” she hissed. “Trenton Kingsley destroyed our lives. I thought we’d destroyed his in return. But apparently the price we extracted was far too low. He has enormous wealth, the highest of titles, great success, newly acquired acceptance, and now our sister. While we have nothing.”
Baxter’s jaw clenched. “I was pondering that very thing when you surprised me with your appearance. Somehow, some way, I intend to make that bastard pay.”
“If my plan works, we’ll bring Trenton Kingsley to his knees. We’ll emerge victorious … and very, very rich.” She averted her head to glance at Baxter. “Doesn’t that sound intriguing?”
“Fill me in on this plan of yours.”
“If Trenton were proved to be mad, completely insane, he would be committed and Ariana would have total access to his money, right?”
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?”