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.
Free.
Instantly, Trenton stiffened, and he spun about to face Dustin, his expression lethal. “If Ariana needed to disguise the truth in her letter, it means her bastard of a brother forced her to write it. And that means he’s keeping her at Winsham against her will.” Trenton inhaled sharply, realization striking with the force of a tidal wave. “I’ll kill him.”
Dustin’s brow furrowed as he once again tried to make the pieces fit. “That’s what I don’t understand: Why would Baxter force Ariana to write that letter?”
“Now you’re the one who’s being obtuse, Dustin. Think about it: If Ariana stays at Winsham, if she convinces me that I am, indeed, mad and unfit to live with, what would happen?”
“You’d probably do as she begs you to do.”
“Exactly. I’d commit myself to an asylum. Leaving my poor, abused bride alone, at Winsham … with my money.” Trenton’s eyes blazed cobalt fire.
“With your money and her gre
edy brother …” Dustin clarified, comprehension dawning. “So Baxter is the one behind your eerie visual escapades these past weeks!”
“That filthy son of a bitch!” Trenton was already out the door and halfway to the stairs.
“Wait! I’ll go with you!” Dustin raced after him.
“No.” Trenton stopped in his tracks, venom glittering in his eyes. “This is between Caldwell and me. That bastard robbed me of my father, my life, my self-worth, and now, nearly my sanity. At long last the past has come full circle.” Trenton took the stairs two at a time, pausing only when he’d reached the bottom. “I don’t give a damn what that blackguard’s done to me, but God help him if he’s laid a hand on Ariana. Because if he has, everything he accused me of six years ago will come to pass.… “And I really will be guilty of murder.”
“Ariana, you really should eat something, darling.” Vanessa finished her last mouthful of roast duck and dabbed lightly at her mouth with a linen napkin. “I realize the atmosphere isn’t all it could be, but as you know I’m restricted to these quarters for most of the day. Detection would be highly ill-advised, I’m afraid.” She sipped at her coffee. “But that doesn’t mean I should starve.”
“Why am I being confined?” Ariana demanded, ignoring her lunch and pacing the room.
“Because, baby sister, we have to await your beloved husband’s reaction. If he concedes to your demands like a good, docile little boy, you are free to move about Winsham as you wish. If, however, he attempts to burst in here in some cavalier attempt to win you back, it wouldn’t do to have you speak with him. Sadly, you are a very poor liar. So, for your own protection … as well as your husband’s”—the unspoken threat hung heavily between them—“Baxter will handle the duke and tell him you don’t wish to see him. Once Trenton departs, you can leave the servants’ quarters and return to your old bedroom. Actually, you are far more fortunate than I, who must remain in hiding until the Kingsley money is safely in our hands. So count your blessings, darling.”
Ariana didn’t reply but went over to gaze expectantly out the narrow window, searching for what, she wasn’t sure. A miracle perhaps. Lord knew, she needed one—desperately.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Ariana prayed that Trenton’s innate cynicism and fragile faith would not prevent him from reading the truth she’d carefully hidden beneath the lies. And even if her meaning was lost to his embittered eyes, she prayed that Dustin, due to his brother’s absence, would read the copy of her letter Baxter had forwarded to Broddington. Dustin would understand. And with fate’s assistance, he could convince Trenton, before it was too late.
“What are you looking at?” Vanessa asked idly, nibbling at a spoonful of lemon custard.
“The heavens. The birds. The trees.” Ariana gave her sister a caustic look. “Life’s true blessings, Vanessa … the things money can’t buy.”
Vanessa raised her delicate brows. “Testy, aren’t we?” She wagged her head pityingly. “I never understood you as a child, and I still don’t understand you. What pleasure can be gained from observing a flying feathered creature or an inanimate green-leafed stalk of wood?”
“You’re right: You don’t understand me.” Ariana turned back to her observations.
“Speaking of pleasure, there is one I am most curious about. Is Trenton really the incredible lover he was always reputed to be?”
Ariana felt tears sting her eyes, not of embarrassment, but of a loss so vast it hurt.
“Ah, I see. Evidently, he takes his attentions elsewhere. Well, don’t be too hard on yourself, darling, you are a mere child, after all. Besides, no man is satisfied with just one woman, regardless of her prowess. It’s too bad, really. I would have enjoyed passing the time hearing about some of your duke’s favorite diversions.”
“Shut up, Vanessa.”
Vanessa blinked. “Now this is a side of you I’ve never seen.” She rose, stretching gracefully. “I’m going to take a hot bath. Then we can resume our delightful sisterly chat.”
Ariana winced as the door closed behind Vanessa. Once again, she turned her attention to the skies, seeking the peace nature brought her. Please, she begged silently. Please let him come. Please.
The flash of white was so subtle that at first she almost missed it. But the second time her eye sought it out, zeroing in on the great, soaring creature that descended slowly, than alit on the branch just outside her window.
Odysseus blinked his penetrating topaz eyes.
“Odysseus …” Ariana whispered his name, her heart racing.
As if he had heard, the owl met her gaze, staring solemnly at her pale face.
“Oh … Odysseus, you’re here.” Instinctively, Ariana pressed her palm against the pane, feeling closer, somehow, to the precious bird who always appeared when she needed him. “I wish you could bring Trenton to me,” she murmured. Her hand fell away. “But, even if you could, what good would it do? As soon as Baxter heard the carriage arrive, he’d lock me in this room. I’d never see my husband and he’d leave, believing the worst of me. Oh, Odysseus, there must be a way.”
The owl remained, still as a statue.
But something else moved.
Tearing her gaze from Odysseus, Ariana peered off into the distance, trying to discern the motion. It was a dark, moving object of some kind, making its way stealthily through the deserted woods at the rear of Winsham. A wolf?
It was a man.
Ariana’s breath caught in her throat as she realized that the intruder was indeed human. Whoever he was, he was intent on avoiding detection.
Without knowing why, Ariana tensed, her nails biting into her palms as she watched, waiting, while the man came closer to the manor. Then suddenly she knew why.
It was Trenton.
Ariana bit her lip to keep from calling out his name. Vanessa was in the bathroom just down the hall: Any loud noise would alert her to the situation.
Desperate and frustrated, Ariana wracked her brain for a way to signal Trenton as to her whereabouts. In a minute he’d be at the manor, and Baxter would see him, confront him—and put an end to any opportunity she had to speak with her husband.
There had to be a way, to capture his attention. But how? How?
A rustle of feathers diverted her concentration back to her faithful owl, who was now peering downward in Trenton’s direction.
“Odysseus,” she whispered, wondering if he could make out her words, understand her urgency. “Please … fly. Let Trenton see you … call his attention to me. Please, dear friend. I need you now.”
The owl raised his head, blinking soberly once, twice. Then, without preliminaries, he emitted a shrill cry, spread his majestic feathers, and soared.
Below, Trenton paused, startled by the unexpected sound, scanning the heavens for its cause. Ariana knew the moment he spotted Odysseus; she could see the look of amazement on his face.
Odysseus seemed to know too. The moment he captured Trenton’s attention, he winged toward the window, sweeping past it, only to repeat the motion again.
Trenton’s gaze found his wife’s.
Tears glistening on her lashes, Ariana watched her husband’s cobalt eyes darken with an overwhelming emotion that was a mirror reflection of her own.
“I love you …” she mouthed.
Trenton nodded, a muscle working in his jaw. He averted his head long enough to give Odysseus a solemn salute, then veered purposefully toward the front of the house, all attempts at concealment forgotten.
He stopped just prior to disappearing from Ariana’s line of vision, tilting his head back to stare directly into his wife’s anxious eyes. “We’re going home.” Ariana read the words clearly from his lips, and she smiled through her tears.
Trenton didn’t smile back. Thankfully, humbly, he drank in the poignant beauty that was his and his alone. “I love you, misty angel,” he mouthed.
With that, he closed the distance to Winsham.
Ariana sagged weakly against the wall, joy and gratitude
converging into a fathomless sense of euphoria. Trenton knew. He knew that she never meant to leave him. He knew that something at Winsham was amiss. He knew that she loved him—and he loved her in return. And he was here, ready to take her home.
Abruptly, Ariana straightened, her elation temporarily stilled. What he didn’t know was that Vanessa was alive. And Lord only knew what would happen when he found out.
With swift resolve, Ariana went to the door, gingerly testing the handle. The fates were with her: Vanessa hadn’t locked it when she’d left.
A minute later, Ariana was in the hallway, carefully assuring herself that it was deserted. It was.
She waited not a moment longer, sprinting through the servants’ quarters and into the main wing of the house. Winsham’s entranceway was in view and she planned to reach it.
Three things happened at once.
Deafening pounding erupted at the front door, Coolidge emerged from the drawing room, and Baxter collided with Ariana outside the library.
“What the—where are you racing to, sprite?” Baxter caught hold of her arm.
“Let me go, Baxter.” She struggled valiantly to free herself. “For God’s sake, show me that I wasn’t completely wrong about you. Let me go.”
Glancing curiously at the ruckus behind him, Coolidge opened the front door.
Trenton exploded into the house.
“Take your despicable hands off my wife, Caldwell!” Trenton was beside Ariana in a dozen strides.
Baxter looked totally bewildered, crumpling like a small, pathetic child watching his favorite toy being smashed to pieces. “Kingsley?” he tried inanely. “What are you doing here? Didn’t you get Ariana’s letter?”
“Baxter … don’t,” Ariana said quietly. “In the name of heaven, let the lies be over.” She extricated herself from his now-lax grip and went directly into her husband’s embrace. “Trenton,” she whispered, burying her face against his shirt, weak with the relief of being where she belonged.