Echoes in the Mist (Kingsleys in Love 1)

“Is Baxter home?”

“He’s in his study.”

A sudden unpleasant thought occurred to Ariana. “Theresa, did Baxter ask you to ready me for something—or, rather, for someone?” she demanded.

Theresa smoothed the swirling folds to the floor, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Your brother shall not be deciding your fate,” she replied.

“But …”

“My lady,” Theresa took her hands, “the answer to your question is no. The viscount asked nothing of me, nor would it change what is destined to occur.”

Ariana’s fingers tightened around her faithful companion’s. She wanted no more riddles; only the benefit of Theresa’s far-seeing eyes. “Please … tell me. Who is coming to Winsham?”

“A spokesman for the Queen.”

“The Queen!” Ariana gasped. Hurriedly, she pulled the pins from her hair, shaking out the loose waves. “Perhaps Baxter has done something commendable at last and all our worries are over!” She limped over to the dressing table, sitting obediently and awaiting Theresa’s help. “Maybe this will be the answer to all we seek.”

“I am certain it will be, my lady.”

Ariana met Theresa’s gaze in the gilded mirror. “You’re not going to elaborate, are you?”

In response, Theresa reached for the silver-handled brush and proceeded to arrange Ariana’s tresses.

Ariana let out a deep sigh. “I was afraid of that. Very well, Theresa. I won’t press any farther.”

“I pressed it perfectly, my lady,” Theresa defended instantly, smoothing the fine silk of Ariana’s sleeve. “There is not a crease to be found.”

Ariana’s lips twitched. “No, you are most thorough. I wonder if any of us truly recognizes your full capabilities.”

Theresa laced a blue velvet ribbon through Ariana’s hair. “I believe a carriage has just arrived. We’d best prepare to greet our guests.” She turned Ariana gently to face her, placing aged but steady hands on her mistress’s narrow shoulders. “I shall subdue your brother. You need only subdue your temper.”

“Subdue Baxter? Why?” Ariana’s brow furrowed. “And why on earth would I lose my temper?”

“Most of all,” Theresa continued as if Ariana hadn’t spoken, “remember to follow your instincts. They will not fail you.”

“Instincts about what?” Ariana rose to her feet. “You’re frightening me, Theresa. What news could the Queen’s messenger possibly be bringing that would involve my instincts?”

“Fear will not be an issue, nor does it need to be. But then, you already know that. Your instincts have confirmed it. Now come, my lady.” Theresa took her arm. “Your walk is still a trifle unsteady. That should grant us just enough time before we are needed.”

A door slammed downstairs, and angry male voices reached Ariana’s ears.

Theresa shook her head at the stricken look on her mistress’s face. “Do not be distressed. It is time.” With that, she led Ariana to meet her fate.

“I cannot allow you just to barge in unannounced! What are your names? Why do you wish to see the viscount?”

Coolidge, the portly Caldwell butler, made another unsuccessful attempt to block Trenton’s entrance to the house.

“Your loyalty, my good man, is admirable, though misplaced.” Trenton gestured for his crisply efficient solicitor, Lawrence Crofton, to follow him into the hallway. “Now, where can we find the viscount?”

“He is in his study, sir.” Coolidge bristled. “Now, who shall I say is calling?”

Trenton stopped in his tracks. “Tell him the Duke of Broddington is here to see him.”

Coolidge blanched. “The Duke of …”

“Dammit, Coolidge, what is going on out here?” Baxter slammed open the door to his study, glowering in the direction of the ruckus. His gaze locked with Trenton’s, and hot color flooded his face. “You! What the hell are you doing here?”

Trenton held up a silencing hand. “Spare me the theatrics, Caldwell. I’ll be brief.” He gestured toward Crofton. “My solicitor … should his verification be needed.”