Echoes in the Mist (Kingsleys in Love 1)

Victoria responded with a cold stare, unmoved by either his dazzling charm or honorable proclamation. “Dispense with this idle chatter, Broddington. I am aware that you require no monetary compensation. However, surely there is something you wish.” Her features softened and she clutched the pillar beside her, as if for support. “Please do not deny me the chance to repay what you have restored to me this day. I could not have withstood another loss.” Her voice trembled.

Trenton inclined his head in understanding. The Queen had suffered greatly over the past score, both personally and as a sovereign. First came the bloodshed of the Crimean War. That finally behind her, personal tragedy had struck. The Queen’s mother, the Duchess of Kent, passed away in March of 1861. And then, a scant nine months later, Victoria was forced to survive the ultimate blow, the death of her beloved Prince Consort just before Christmas.

At this supreme tragedy, Victoria’s mourning was boundless, for she adored Albert and relied upon him heavily. And it was no secret that, without her husband, the mercurial Queen felt lost and incomplete. Only Beatrice, the family baby and Victoria’s constant companion, managed to offer her mother the solace she needed to go on living. No, Trenton knew that to lose her sixteen-year-old daughter would be devastating to Victoria.

“I greatly appreciate your kind and generous offer, Your Majesty,” Trenton answered with quiet perception. “However, you know me well and we are both aware that my specific wishes, unfortunately, are not tangible things to be granted. Even by one with power as vast as yours.”

A pause. “Perhaps, in your situation, that is true,” Victoria conceded thoughtfully. She raised her chin, her gaze meaningful. “Vengeance is not for us to render. That is something only the Lord can do.”

Trenton’s expression hardened. “That being the case, I have no wish to be granted.”

“I do not accept your reply.” Victoria waited determinedly.

Trenton wondered what he could say to appease her. They had agreed he needed nothing material, yet he knew the Queen well enough to know she would not be deterred from her demand. And since she could not offer him peace of mind, what the hell was he to ask for?

Retribution.

How he wished there was a way to claim it. Yesterday he believed it had been his, but now he knew that he’d been a fool, for his victory w

as a hollow one. Mere poverty would never be adequate punishment for the viscount’s despicable crime.

No, after viciously destroying Trenton’s life and the lives of his family, Caldwell had twisted a lethal knife in Trenton’s heart, taken something from him that could never be restored. So the only true retribution would be one that was equally irrevocable, one that would annihilate Baxter’s heart in return.

A virtual impossibility, since the bastard had no heart, cared for no one, save …

Trenton’s head shot up, his answer illuminating his mind in a sudden flash of genius, anticipation coursing through his veins in wide rivers of promise. Something irrevocable. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

An eye for an eye.

A sister for a father.

Seduction be damned.

“Very well, Your Majesty. I do have one request.” Trenton’s smile was caustic, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

“And that is …”

“A royal decree commanding Ariana Caldwell to become my wife.”

CHAPTER

4

“WHY?” THE QUEEN WASN’T mincing any words.

“Why what?” Trenton repeated innocently.

“Do not toy with me, Trenton,” Victoria warned. “For a man who draws women to him like bees to honey, you would hardly require a sovereign’s power to procure a bride.” She broke off, her gaze cold. “Unless there is a reason this particular woman would be opposed to marrying you?”

Trenton’s brows rose in mock amusement. “I understood that you wanted to grant me my fondest wish, Your Majesty. I wasn’t aware that an explanation was required for my choice.”

Undeterred by Trenton’s pointed sarcasm, Victoria raised her regal chin, brittlely assessing him from beneath her white widow’s cap. “You and I both know how much you loathe Baxter Caldwell.”

Trenton stiffened. “With good reason.”

Victoria frowned. “I’ve never made a secret of the fact that I have little use for the man myself, nor of the fact that I believe you innocent in the sordid matter of Vanessa Caldwell’s sudden and questionable death.”

“No, you haven’t,” Trenton replied in a gentler tone. “And for that I thank you.”