Echoes in the Mist Read online

  Filled with questions, Ariana ducked beneath the water, rinsing the soap from her hair, wishing she could just as easily wash the insecurities from her mind.

  “Would you like some help, my lady?” Theresa leaned over to wipe Ariana’s eyes with a thick towel.

  Ariana smiled at the irony of the question, knowing Theresa too well to assume she’d merely meant help with the bath. “I’m more than a little muddled. Yes, I’d say I need some assistance.”

  Theresa perched on the side of the tub. “You’re feeling better, my lady?” She broke off, her eyes twinkling. “Pardon me … Your Grace,” she corrected herself. “Now that is going to take some getting used to!”

  “For both of us,” Ariana agreed quietly.

  With a knowing lift of her brows, Theresa continued: “Shall we begin by confronting your questions about last night?”

  “You were right,” Ariana blurted out. “He didn’t hurt me.

  “I never believed he would. Nor did you.”

  Ariana nodded, her gaze fixed on the gentle ripples of the water. “What happened between us … was so wrenching,” she whispered, half to herself.

  With gentle understanding, Theresa smoothed a wet strand of hair behind Ariana’s ear. “I would imagine so. Your husband is a very intense man.”

  “Intense. Yes. He is that.” Ariana hesitated. “Theresa, do you think he sees Vanessa when he looks at me? Do you think he imagined it was she he was holding last night?”

  Theresa stared silently into the soapy tub. “The duke doesn’t want you because of Vanessa, pet,” she said at last. “He wants you in spite of her.”

  “What do you mean?” Ariana jumped on the statement at once, sitting bolt upright in the bath. “Why would he want me in spite of Vanessa? Is her memory still so very clear and painful? Did he love her so deeply, then? Or is it only the consequences of her death that have haunted him all these years and made him so bitter?” Urgently, she gripped Theresa’s arms. “Please, Theresa. I must know.”

  “You’re no longer asking if he killed Vanessa,” Theresa noted.

  Ariana conceded that point without hesitation. “I don’t believe he did. Still, Vanessa is dead. And Trenton was involved with her when she died. The question is, was it love that drove her to kill herself? Or was it fear?”

  Theresa’s mouth set in a grim line. “I don’t believe love was ever the issue.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “You recall your sister. How can you not be?”

  Ariana fell silent, unable to refute Theresa’s candid, dispassionate observation. Yes, she recalled her sister. Vibrantly beautiful, filled with life, captivating and charming. But sensitive, prone to deep and lasting emotion? No. Vanessa had never been that. Still, when she’d met Trenton …

  “Even I remember the way Vanessa spoke of Trenton.” Ariana voiced her thoughts aloud. “The things she said …”

  “And what did she say?”

  Ariana wet her lips, snatches of memories coming to mind. “How handsome he was, how powerful, how intriguing. What a respected family he came from. How different he was from her other suitors …”

  “And those revelations led you to believe she was in love with him?” Theresa asked dryly.

  “Not love, perhaps,” Ariana conceded, trying to reconcile her childhood memories of Vanessa with an adult realization of what her flamboyant sister had truly been. Suitors had swarmed to Vanessa. …and been treated with careless indifference. All but Trenton. “Whether it was love or fascination, she cared for him,” Ariana concluded.

  “At best.”

  Something about Theresa’s tone gave her pause. “You think she was toying with him?”

  “Oh no. Vanessa took the duke quite seriously.”

  “And he?”

  “He took her seriously as well.” Theresa caught Ariana’s chin, lifting it in time to see the hurt in her eyes. “That disturbs you.”

  Ariana’s lips trembled. “I’d be lying if I said otherwise. However, it does clarify many things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as the passion that drives Trenton to me and then away. Such as the war he is constantly battling within himself, the scars he carries and is unable to shed. Such as the real reason he went to such lengths to make me his wife.” A tear slid down Ariana’s cheek. “I can’t be Vanessa,” she whispered.

  Slowly, Theresa shook her head, her eyes filling with undiscernible emotion. “No, you cannot be. Nor should you try.”

  Ariana was about to respond when suddenly another possibility struck her. “Theresa,” she said, paling a bit as she searched the older woman’s face, “you said that love was never an issue. Does that mean that Vanessa feared Trenton?”

  Theresa took both of Ariana’s hands firmly in her own. “Listen to me, pet … and hear me well. Fear had as little to do with the events of the past as did love.” She inhaled slowly, seeking the words that would ease Ariana’s anguish. “I was not your sister’s confidante, nor was I with her the night she died. All I know is what I remember … and what my insight reveals. I can’t give you the answers you seek, for they’re not mine to give. But they are within your grasp, if you have the courage and faith to reach for them.”

  Before Ariana had digested her words, Theresa came to her feet, fetching a thick towel and holding it out to her mistress. “It’s late. Your husband has been up and about for hours. Let’s ready you for breakfast.”

  Theresa’s announcement conjured up another thought, and, wistfully, Ariana stepped from the tub, wondering why Trenton had been so eager to leave her bed. She would have enjoyed sleeping beside him, awakening in his arms, beginning the new day with the same wondrous sensations he had taught her last night.…

  She blushed, appalled at her own wanton thoughts.

  “… so I assumed this morning you’d prefer the lemon.” Theresa paused, hands on hips. “My lady?”

  “Pardon me?” Ariana started.

  With an impatient lift of her brows, Theresa repeated, “I said, I assumed this morning you’d prefer the lemon.”

  “The lemon?”

  “Yes … rather than the cream. The cream is too heavy for such a hot summer day. I thought the lemon would be more to your liking.”

  “Oh … of course.” Ariana wrapped the towel around her and smiled brightly. “I’ll have the lemon, of course, but not here. In the dining room.”

  “You plan to dress in the dining room?” Theresa inquired.

  Ariana stopped in her tracks. “Dress? I thought we were discussing my tea!”

  “No, pet. I was speaking of your gown.” Theresa swept past Ariana, clucking under her breath. “And they call me daft!”

  Laughing, Ariana followed Theresa into the bedroom and gave her a warm hug. “I’ve never called you daft, my dear friend. To the contrary, I find your wisdom staggering. As for the rest of the world …” She shrugged, slipping into her underclothes and lemon-colored morning dress. “Let them think what they will.”

  Theresa gave a disdainful sniff and patted the volume of Bacon’s essays that lay snug in her apron pocket. “They are ill discoverers that think there is no land, when they can see nothing but sea.”

  “I concur wholeheartedly … with you and Sir Francis,” Ariana replied. Impatiently, she assisted Theresa in fastening the long row of buttons that spanned the front of her dress. “Do you think Trenton is still in the dining room?”

  “I think you should let me arrange your hair so you can find out,” Theresa returned briskly.

  Ariana was eager to do just that.

  But when, a scant twenty minutes later, she hastened down the stairs, she found only Dustin at the table, finishing his coffee.

  “Well”—he came to his feet at once—“good morning! I was wondering if you ever planned to rise!”

  “Good morning, Dustin.” Ariana’s gaze quickly swept the room, simultaneously noting that the grandfather clock registered three quarters after ten and that she and Dustin
were indeed the sole occupants of the vast mahogany dining room. Disappointment clouding her lovely face, she turned to Trenton’s handsome, smiling brother. “It’s good to see you.”

  Dustin’s grin widened. “You don’t do much for a gentleman’s ego, sweetheart,” he teased, raising her hand to his lips. “You look positively crestfallen.”

  “I apologize,” she said at once, blushing. She gazed appealingly up at him, mortified that she had offended such an important person in Trenton’s life, a man she had hoped to call a friend. “I didn’t mean …”

  He waved away her objection. “I understood what you meant.” He raised her chin with a gentle forefinger. “Are you all right?”

  Her blush deepened, but Ariana didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Yes.”

  His astute midnight gaze studied her intently. Then he nodded. “My brother is a very lucky man.”

  “Is he at home?” Ariana burst out eagerly.

  “No, Ariana, he’s not.” Dustin glanced tactfully away from her disappointed expression. Adjusting the collar of his morning shirt with exaggerated dignity, he pulled back a chair and, in a grand, teasing gesture, motioned for Ariana to sit. As she complied, he admonished gently, “The day is half over, sweet. You must be ravenous.” With authoritative ease, Dustin signaled to a waiting footman. “Breakfast for Her Grace,” he ordered.

  “Thank you, Dustin.” Ariana smiled, determined not to show how disappointed she was to learn that Trenton was away. She composed herself, counting to ten as she traced the lace pattern of the tablecloth. Then, unable to resist, she casually inquired, “Will Trenton be gone long?”

  “He left for Spraystone just after dawn.” Dustin eased himself into his chair, folding his arms across his chest and studying Ariana with perceptive compassion. “He didn’t mention when he planned to return.”

  “Spraystone?”

  “Trent’s estate on the Isle of Wight,” Dustin supplied, reminded, yet again, how very little his brother and Ariana actually knew of each other.

  “I see.”

  Dustin wondered if she did. Even he had been astounded this morning by the severity of Trenton’s foul humor, which was darker and more forbidding than usual. Up before the sun and ornery as a wounded bear, Trenton had slammed downstairs, nearly knocking Dustin over on the staircase. He hadn’t spoken two dozen words, but gulped three cups of black coffee, then announced his decision to leave for Spraystone. Given the circumstances, Dustin hadn’t argued. Inwardly, however, he was worried. Not for himself, for he had braved Trenton’s fury more times than he cared to recall. But for Ariana, who, with or without her consent, had doubtlessly become Trenton’s wife last night … in fact as well as name. Dustin only prayed that Trenton had retained enough common sense not to hurt his innocent new duchess. Still, Dustin intended to be there when Ariana arose, to see for himself that she was unharmed.

  Studying her now, he could see that his concerns were unfounded. Obviously, Trenton had kept himself in check and initiated his bride gently. A small smile curved Dustin’s lips. In truth, if he considered Trenton’s wretched mood together with Ariana’s artless eagerness, he could almost believe that something significant had happened last night … something that involved far more than a physical consummation. An interesting possibility indeed.

  “Spraystone must be lovely,” Ariana was saying, frowning at the plate of poached eggs and buttered toast that was placed before her by a dutiful footman.

  “It is.” Before Dustin could ask why Ariana was displeased with her breakfast, she had pushed away her plate and instead helped herself to a dish of caramel pudding. “All of the Isle of Wight is picturesque,” Dustin continued, watching Ariana lick the last creamy drop from her spoon, then enthusiastically bite into a jam tart. “But Spraystone is especially beautiful. It not only overlooks a breathtaking section of the Solent but also provides a clear view of the entire coast of Hampshire. … Sweetheart, you’re going to make yourself ill,” he put in, as Ariana began nibbling at her second tart.

  She paused, licking the jam from her lip. “Pardon me?”

  “In the last five minutes you’ve eaten a huge bowl of custard and two tarts. Granted, you could stand a few additional pounds, but wouldn’t you like some substantial food?”

  Ariana blinked, her stomach lurching as it registered the arrival of its unusually sweet breakfast. “Oh … I didn’t realize … That is …”

  Seeing her face take on a greenish cast, Dustin came to his feet, snatching a piece of toast and holding it up to Ariana’s mouth. “Eat this,” he ordered. While she chewed, he poured a cup of tea and thrust it at her. “Now drink.”

  It took only a few seconds for her stomach to settle. Then she sagged in her chair, giving Dustin a mortified look. “I don’t know what to say …” she began.

  Dustin’s lips twitched. “You did tell me that you eat an extraordinary amount of sweets when you’re nervous.”

  Despite her embarrassment, Ariana found herself smiling back. “I do.”

  “Therefore I must sadly conclude that, since you’ve … overindulged on both occasions I’ve been in your company, I evidently make you nervous.”

  “Oh, no!” she burst out, unconsciously reaching for his hand. “To the contrary, Dustin, you make me feel very much at home and remarkably relaxed.” Her brows knit and her mind began racing, desperately seeking the words to make Dustin realize how crucial his companionship was to the overwhelming adjustment that now confronted her, how extraordinary she found their instant rapport. “Why, yesterday I was beside myself with jitters and you knew just how to calm me. And this morning you’re here to make my first official meal at Broddington so much more pleasant. If only Trenton …” She broke off, horrified by what she had implied.

  “I understand, Ariana.” Dustin covered her small hand with his large one. “And it’s all right. My brother is not an easy man to know … to understand,” he corrected his choice of words, seeing Ariana blush. For some reason she inspired powerful feelings in him: protective, tender feelings. The last thing he wanted was her discomfort. “I tell you what,” he said on impulse, rising to his feet. “Since Trent is away, why don’t I take you on a tour of Broddington? After all, this is your new home, and I’m sure you’re curious to see it.”

  Ariana tried, unsuccessfully, to disguise her excitement. “I don’t want to keep you from anything. …”

  He waved her protest away. “Nonsense. I left all my work at Tyreham. And since I plan to stay at Broddington for several days”—he bowed deeply—“I am at your disposal.”

  “Oh, Dustin, can we begin now?” Ariana nearly toppled the chair in her zealous attempt to rise.

  “Immediately.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “That is, of course, if you’ve had enough to eat.”

  Ariana smiled. “I believe I’ve had my fill, thank you.”

  “Good. Then let’s begin our tour.”

  “Given the size of Broddington, ‘excursion’ would be a better choice of words,” she pointed out as they strolled into the marble-columned billiard room.

  “True.” Dustin gestured toward the carved billiards table. “Do you play?”

  “Me?” Ariana gave him a wan smile. “Hardly.”

  “You probably prefer badminton,” he rectified, mistaking her adamant response for a display of offended female sensibilities. “Now that sport is certainly catching on rapidly and is, undoubtedly, more appealing to a lady.”

  Ariana shook her head in apology. “I’m afraid my knowledge of sports is sadly lacking. I’ve played tennis once or twice and, of course, I ride, but …” She shrugged with casual acquiescence. “I’m alone a great deal and there was never anyone to properly instruct me. However, I’m never lonely: I have my flowers and my animals.”

  “I’ll instruct you.”

  She blinked. “You will?”

  “Name your preference,” he confirmed, grinning at her amazement. “Let’s see …” He began counting off on his fingers: “There’s bad
minton, billiards, tennis, sailing …” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Poker …”

  “Poker?” Now she did look shocked.

  “Queen Victoria plays,” he tempted.

  A spark appeared in her eyes. “Does she, now? Well then, so shall I!”

  “Done,” Dustin concluded with a snap of his fingers.

  His infectious enthusiasm made Ariana bold. “And Dustin?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “The game I’ve always wanted to learn is croquet.”

  “Then our tour will lead us to the front lawn, where your training will commence.”

  “Today?”

  “What better time than the present?”

  Ariana felt gratitude well up inside her. “Thank you,” she said in a small, choked voice.

  Dustin smoothed his mustache, suddenly furious at his brother for abandoning this exceptional young woman. Didn’t Trenton see what a treasure he’d been granted?

  With great difficulty Dustin bit down on his anger, knowing full well that Trenton saw nothing, for he was blinded by his bloody vengeance. For the time being, Ariana’s happiness was in Dustin’s hands.

  Resigned to his delightfully appealing task, he cupped Ariana’s elbow and winked. “Instructing you in croquet will be my pleasure. Now, shall we move on to the drawing room?”

  Ariana followed Dustin down the endless tiled hall to the drawing room. Pausing in the doorway, she caught her breath. “How elegant!”

  Stained-glass windows lined the walls, admitting just enough light to emphasize the domed ceilings, green velvet sofas, and magnificent marble fireplace. Huge trefoiled mirrors hung between the windows, making the room seem even grander and more enormous.

  Awed, Ariana strolled about, running her hand over a priceless statue, terrified that it might shatter at the merest touch. She traced the gilded trim along the room’s marble columns with one tentative fingertip, marveling at the talent it had taken to design such a palace.

  “Winsham’s drawing room is half this size,” she murmured, half to herself. She gazed off, a faraway look in her eyes. “We celebrated Christmas there when Mama and Papa were alive. I was so small … it seemed to me that the tree filled the whole room. I recall thinking what a miracle it was, the transformation from drawing room to winter garden.” Self-consciously, she glanced up. “I’m sorry, Dustin … I’m babbling.” On the heels of the apology she dimpled. “Babbling is something I do, not only when I’m nervous, but all the time.”