"I never met the man before two weeks ago."
"Did you correspond?"
"No." Noelle's small jaw set. "That's it. The interrogation is over. At least until you explain why you're conducting it. And please give me an honest answer. I think I deserve one."
For a moment, Ashford said nothing, visibly debating how to respond to her demand. Then he leaned forward and caught Noelle's shoulders in his hands. "You're right. You do. But so do I. I need you to answer one question for me. Now, before I provide you with an explanation—and before things go any further between us."
"Very well," she replied warily.
"Why did you really go to London two weeks ago?"
Whatever Noelle had been expecting, it hadn't been this. Nevertheless, it was obvious from Ashford's tone that he already knew there had been an ulterior motive behind her sudden excursion into Town and that the very existence of that ulterior motive angered him. Well, neither of those details should surprise her. After all, she was a dreadful liar and he was a very shrewd man—and a man who valued honesty in others. Wasn't he always applauding her candor? Clearly, her evasiveness on this one subject had been apparent throughout their day in London—a fact that had probably troubled him for a fortnight.
Well, it was time to alleviate his anger. She'd intended to tell him the truth anyway, not only to keep things open and honest between them, but to lend credibility to—as Ashford termed it—the extreme conclusion she'd drawn with regard to his suspicions of Baricci.
Extreme? Hardly.
Once Ashford knew the ugly details to which she was privy, he would understand why she was so ready to mistrust that scoundrel, to add her own suspicions to the ones Ashford obviously harbored. Given Baricci's sordid character, his unscrupulous conduct and total disregard for anything other than self-gratification—a blackguard such as that was capable of anything.
Ashford wanted the truth? Now was as good a time as any to disclose it.
Noelle opened her mouth, intent on revealing all when, abruptly, she was struck by just how closely Ashford was watching her, just how challenging was the look in his eyes.
An unsettling realization slammed into place.
"You already know why I went to London," Noelle pronounced in amazement. "It's written all over your face. You know exactly where I went and whom I went to see. So why are you asking? What's more, how did you learn of my intentions? Who told you?"
"No one." Ashford's reply was clipped, although he didn't insult her with a false denial. "You're right; I'm fairly sure I do know where you went—and to whom. Why am I asking? Because I need to hear it from you."
"Very well. I went to see Franco Baricci. Now I repeat, how did you find out? No one knew my destination or its purpose except Chloe. Unless you've spoken to Baricci since then. Have you?"
Ashford bypassed her questions, instead firing more of his own. "For what purpose did you visit Baricci? Why would you seek out a man who, by your own admission, you'd never met or corresponded with?"
Noelle pursed her lips, suddenly loathe to reveal anything of consequence without receiving some answers of her own. "He factored heavily into my past," she said carefully. "A truth I'd only recently discovered. I needed to affirm what I'd learned about him—rather, what I'd implored others to learn."
To her astonishment, Ashford relaxed, emitting an audible sigh of relief. "So I was right. You'd just found out what Farrington's investigators had unearthed over a long period of time—an investigation you appealed to your father to initiate. And you went to confront Baricci."
Noelle's eyes widened like saucers. "How did you know about Papa's investigation?"
"I know everything there is to know about Baricci." A meaningful pause. "Everything."
"Including his relationship to me," Noelle supplied in a wooden tone.
"Yes, including that. Baricci was the man who impregnated Liza Bromleigh nineteen years ago, a pregnancy that resulted in your birth. What I couldn't figure out was why you'd never confronted him in the past, yet suddenly decided to do so now, after all this time. Knowing how bright you are, how curious, it didn't make sense—unless you'd only just found out the truth. Which is clearly what happened. But I had to be sure."
"And that's what you're doing now—being sure?"
"Not only now," Ashford returned quietly. "From the onset. It began when I introduced myself to you and continued throughout our day in London."
"The train," Noelle determined in a stunned voice. "You intentionally shared my compartment." She shook her head. "But that makes no sense. How could you have known I'd be on the railroad that day? How could you deduce I'd be riding in to see Baricci when I'd only just made the decision to do so—and shared that decision with no one but my sister?"
"I didn't. That part was pure coincidence, though not an unwelcome one. As it happens, I was headed for London the same time you were. I spotted you on the train. From the detailed descriptions I've amassed of Liza Bromleigh, I recognized you instantly.
"
A sickly knot formed in Noelle's stomach. "So that is why you befriended me—because you knew who I was and hoped to speak with me."
Ashford never looked away. "Initially, yes. I'd hoped to gain whatever information I could from you. But then our affinity for each other took on a life of its own. By the time I asked my parents to invite you to Markham, I'd put whatever concerns I had to rest."