“Someone is impersonating Vanessa. Are you behind it?”
“No one could impersonate Vanessa. She was unique, incomparable. Tell me, Ariana, who has seen this supposed impostor? Other than your husband, that is. And some elderly merchant who probably wouldn’t know his own wife, let alone someone else’s.”
Silence.
“I thought as much. So all you’re really confirming is that Trenton Kingsley is every bit the madman I’ve always claimed him to be.”
“That’s a matter of perspective. You see Trenton as crazy. I see someone else as vindictive.” Ariana’s eyes sparked fire. “You despise him, Baxter. You’d do anything to destroy him. The question is, how far are you willing and capable of carrying that hatred? Only you can answer that. And I want an answer. Now.”
“I’d choke him with my bare hands if it were legal!” Baxter burst out. “But it isn’t. And I’m not stupid enough to torment a man who would only take his rage out on my baby sister. So, no, I’m not behind this fictitious plot your husband has conjured up. Nor do I believe it exists.”
“Then who bought that book?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“And who has Trenton been seeing?”
“His bloody imagination, that’s who! Deranged people are capable of fabricating anything!”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Well, apparently you stand alone. Because if Kingsley were so certain of his own sanity and his own innocence, why did he flee, yet again, to the Isle of Wight? Why isn’t he here with you, accusing me of this grand plot against him?”
For a long moment Ariana said nothing, merely stared mutely at her brother’s angry face. Then she drew a slow breath. “I never thought of it that way,” she said shakily. “I can’t argue the point; Trenton should be here to plead his own case.”
Baxter’s smile was immediate and triumphant. “Of course he should. If he’s innocent.” Crossing over, Baxter smoothed Ariana’s hair with a soothing caress. “I’m not suggesting that you’re entirely wrong, sprite. Maybe Kingsley isn’t lying; maybe he’s just too damned unbalanced to know what he’s seeing. If that’s the case, he could be dangerous. Not just to himself, but to you.”
Ariana gulped, her face buried against Baxter’s shirt. “I hope you’re wrong.”
“I hope so too. But think about it. A man who sees a dead woman, not once but several times? A man who has a history of violence, of brutal jealousy, of mental cruelty—is that the kind of man you want to entrust your life to?” He shook his head sadly. “I never thought he would deteriorate to this degree, or, edict or not, I’d have refused to allow you to marry him. But it’s too late now.” Soberly, he held Ariana away from him. “Sprite, if the situation becomes unbearable, if he ever threatens you in any way, promise me you’ll come to Winsham, turn to
me for help. Promise me.”
“I’ll look to you at once,” Ariana vowed solemnly.
“Good.” Baxter kissed her forehead gently. “I’m glad you brought this problem to me, even if you did believe I was some kind of culprit. Do you feel better?”
“Yes … everything is much clearer now.” Ariana sighed. “I’m exhausted, Baxter. This whole predicament has taken its toll on me. Do you mind if I go home to bed?”
Baxter gave her arms a reassuring squeeze. “Of course, sprite. Get some rest. And remember, if you ever need me, I’m here.”
“I won’t forget that … or anything else you’ve said.” She yawned. “Don’t trouble Coolidge; he’s probably gone back to sleep. I’ll see myself out.” She patted her brother’s hand. “Thank you for putting everything in perspective.”
Baxter’s compassionate gaze followed her from the room.
Leaning back against the closed morning-room door, Ariana let out her breath in a rush, battling to bring herself under control. Shuddering, she wiped her hand across her forehead, hopefully obliterating Baxter’s kiss along with it.
Her despicable brother had been lying.
She’d known it from the moment they’d spoken of the Shakespearean volume Trenton had received. Ariana had never supplied a description of the merchant. How then had Baxter known he was old and doddering?
And if that weren’t enough, how had Baxter known Trenton was at Spraystone? She hadn’t mentioned it; in fact, no one other than she, Dustin, and Lawrence Crofton knew Trenton’s whereabouts.
Except whoever was tormenting him.
As far as Ariana was concerned, she had her answer. Baxter was involved—somehow, some way—with the past week’s happenings. Her every instinct confirmed it.
But this was one instance when her instincts alone were not enough. What she needed was proof.