The message crackled its reminder in his palm.
“Your note.” Trenton halted, staring blankly at the paper as if recalling its presence, then extending it to his wife.
Reluctantly, Ariana took the page, forcing herself to concentrate when all she wanted was to be in Trenton’s arms. She unfolded the note mechanically, her brows drawing together in puzzlement. “Who could have sent it?”
“Your brother.” Trenton spat out the words as he would a profanity.
A cold premonition of dread cloaked Ariana’s heart as she smoothed out the tersely worded page. Sprite, it read, It is vital that I see you. Come to Winsham as soon as possible. B.
Ariana raised her head to find Trenton’s gaze upon her, his expression that of a vicious predator. A shiver of apprehension tingled up her spine. “Baxter wants to see me immediately,” she said, pushing her words past the constriction in her throat.
“Of course he does,” Trenton returned with mocking bitterness. His mouth tightened into a grim line, his eyes glittering contemptuously, raking deep inside her. Turning on his heel, he stalked to the door and crashed it wide open, gesturing grandly into the empty hall. “Then by all means, Mrs. Kingsley … go.”
CHAPTER
11
WINSHAM WAS THE SAME … and yet it was so very different. Had it changed overnight? Or had she?
Ariana rested her chin on her hand as she leaned out the carriage window, watching her old home loom closer. Certainly Winsham was modest-sized compared to Broddington, but size was not the cause of Ariana’s odd feeling of unfamiliarity. It was as if, after only two days, she didn’t belong here anymore, that it was a part of her previous life … a life that was no more. Stranger still, that realization evoked no sadness, only a peaceful acceptance.
For despite his grim complexity, Trenton was her husband, and her home was with him now.
The carriage stilled with a jolt, and Ariana swiftly gathered her skirts, her mind turning to Baxter and the cryptic note he’d sent her. Was something amiss? she wondered uneasily. Could Baxter be in some kind of trouble?
Alighting, she ascended the stairs, just as Coolidge opened the front door and bowed deeply. “My lady … pardon me … Your Grace,” he hastily corrected, “the viscount is expecting you.”
“Thank you, Coolidge.” Ariana followed him down the hall to Baxter’s study, amused at the solemn formality of the greeting. Just last week she’d resided here, floated in and out of the house at will, with no grand proclamations trumpeting her arrival. Was it her newly acquired title or her husband’s black past that elicited such awe?
Coolidge rapped purposefully on the study door.
“Yes … come in,” Baxter called.
“The Duchess of Broddington, sir.”
Shuddering with distaste at the mere mention of the Broddington name, Baxter rose, folding the letter he had just completed and gifting Ariana with his most charming smile. “Hello, sprite.” He extended his arms, coming forward and embracing her affectionately.
Ariana drew back. “Is everything all right?” she demanded.
Baxter blinked. “Of course.” From the corner of his eye he noted that the butler was about to take his leave. “Oh … Coolidge,” he called, making his way back to the door.
“Sir?”
“See that this message is sent at once,” Baxter said quietly, pressing the note into Coolidge’s palm. “By telegraph. It’s urgent.”
“Of course, sir.”
Baxter nodded tersely. “And please arrange to have tea served in my study,” he said in a pointed return to his normal tone.
“Certainly, my lord.” With the note clutched tightly to his side, Coolidge made his exit.
For a moment Baxter stared idly after him, lost in faraway thoughts. Then, abruptly, he recalled Ariana’s presence and, drawing a sharp breath, he turned, his smile restored. He had to tread carefully, seize this opportunity to elicit Ariana’s help. For without her cooperation he hadn’t a prayer of securing Kingsley’s vast fortune.
“So, how is my beautiful little sister?” Baxter asked with a wink. “I’ve missed having you underfoot. Let me look at you. … You are quite a vision.”
“I’ve only been gone two days, Baxter,” Ariana said wryly, wondering if the reason for his flattery had anything to do with the urgency of his summons. “I don’t think I’ve changed that much.”
He chuckled. “Still convinced you are the ordinary mouse, I see.”