Echoes in the Mist (Kingsleys in Love 1)

A drone of voices interrupted her thoughts, and quickly Ariana dashed into a coat closet, burying herself beneath the mounds of outerwear. The voices grew louder, and Ariana pressed her ear to the door, making out only snatches of conversation.

“Convinced her… Kingsley … deranged … proceeding … perfectly…”

The voices disappeared from earshot.

Yes, Baxter, Ariana thought, sitting back on her haunches. You’ve certainly convinced me. But not of Trenton’s insanity; of your own maliciousness.

Muted or not, the voice she’d just heard belonged to Baxter. The question remaining was, who was with him? The only thing Ariana had ascertained from the second person’s monosyllabic replies was that it was a woman.

But who?

Ariana’s head came up. Could it be the woman who was impersonating Vanessa? Was Baxter keeping her here, at Winsham?

It made sense. Now Ariana had to prove it.

The instant she felt it was safe to do so, Ariana crept from the closet and into the servants’ quarters, down the corridor from which the voices had emerged. Coolidge’s room was way at the end of the wing with a dozen unoccupied rooms in between. She would search every one, if need be.

The first room was dingy and musty-smelling; definitely uninhabited. So was the second.

The third room was dark, the drapes drawn tightly, allowing only a dim light to filter in. Ariana entered.

The powerful scent of roses accosted her at once, pervading her senses and telling her all she needed to know.

Someone was living here. And that someone was dousing herself in Vanessa’s scent.

Ariana’s stomach knotted with dread.

Silently closing the door, Ariana tugged open the drapes, suffusing the room with light.

A cry rose in her throat.

Clothing was strewn about: various gowns, all dark in color.

Except one peach gown that caught Ariana’s eye at once. Trembling, she picked it up. Recognition was instantaneous. It was the identical gown Baxter had bought for her.

Ariana sank down to her knees. So that’s why he had given her that gift. He’d wanted his hired impostor to own the same gown, to wear it in order to confuse and bewilder Trenton.

Yet another piece of the heinous puzzle fell into place.

“This dress is proof enough,” Ariana muttered to herself. ?

?Not to mention the roses, and the dark clothing meant to obscure its wearer from view. I’ll bring this to Trenton. … Then he’ll believe me.” She shuddered. “Where did Baxter find someone convincing enough to portray Vanessa?”

“Nothing is as effective as the real thing, darling.” The taunting voice hit Ariana like a bucket of ice water. “Anything less would have been unacceptable.”

All the color drained from Ariana’s face, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. Then, as if in a trance, she rose, gaping at the crimson-haired beauty in the open doorway. “Vanessa?” she whispered.

“You really have become quite enchanting, little sister.” Vanessa entered the room, sweeping Ariana’s trembling form with cold, assessing eyes. “Not to mention resourceful. A bit too virtuous for my tastes, but lovely nonetheless.”

“Oh my God.” Ariana clutched the bedpost for support, her mind desperately trying to absorb the reality that had evaded her for six years. “You’re alive.”

“Disappointed?”

“I …” Ariana’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “Why did you … where have you …”

“Because of Trenton Kingsley and in France.”

“Ness, have you taken to talking to yourself?” Baxter stepped into the room—and stopped in his tracks. His face turned chalk-white, and a muscle began throbbing at his temple. “Ariana …” he managed.