She blushed, appalled at her own wanton thoughts.
"...so I assumed this morning you'd prefer the lemon." Theresa paused, hands on hips. "My lady?"
"Pardon me?" Ariana started.
With an impatient lift of her brows, Theresa repeated, "I said, I assumed this morning you'd prefer the lemon."
"The lemon?"
"Yes... rather than the cream. The cream is too heavy for such a hot summer day. I thought the lemon would be more to your liking."
"Oh... of course." Ariana wrapped the towel around her and smiled brightly. "I'll have the lemon, of course, but not here. In the dining room."
"You plan to dress in the dining room?" Theresa inquired.
Ariana stopped in her tracks. "Dress? I thought we were discussing my tea!"
"No, pet. I was speaking of your gown." Theresa swept past Ariana, clucking under her breath. "And they call me daft!"
Laughing, Ariana followed Theresa into the bedroom and gave her a warm hug. "I've never called you daft, my dear friend. To the contrary, I find your wisdom staggering. As for the rest of the world..." She shrugged, slipping into her underclothes and lemon-colored morning dress. "Let them think what they will."
Theresa gave a disdainful sniff and patted the volume of Bacon's essays that lay snug in her apron pocket. "They are ill discoverers that think there is no land, when they can see nothing but sea."
"I concur wholeheartedly... with you and Sir Francis," Ariana replied. Impatiently, she assisted Theresa in fastening the long row of buttons that spanned the front of her dress. "Do you think Trenton is still in the dining room?"
"I think you should let me arrange your hair so you can find out," Theresa returned briskly.
Ariana was eager to do just that.
But when, a scant twenty minutes later, she hastened down the stairs, she found only Dustin at the table, finishing his coffee.
"Well"-he came to his feet at once-"good morning! I was wondering if you ever planned to rise!"
"Good morning, Dustin." Ariana's gaze quickly swept the room, simultaneously noting that the grandfather clock registered three quarters after ten and that she and Dustin were indeed the sole occupants of the vast mahogany dining room. Disappointment clouding her lovely face, she turned to Trenton’s handsome, smiling brother. "It's good to see you."
Dustin's grin widened. "You don't do much for a gentleman's ego, sweetheart,” he teased, raising her hand to his lips. "You look positively crestfallen."
"I apologize," she said at once, blushing. She gazed appealingly up at him, mortified that she had offended such an important person in Trenton's life, a man she had hoped to call a friend. "I didn't mean..."
He waved away her objection. "I understood what you meant." He raised her chin with a gentle forefinger. "Are you all right?"
Her blush deepened, but Ariana didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Yes."
His astute midnight gaze studied her intently. Then he nodded. "My brother is a very lucky man."
"Is he at home?" Ariana burst out eagerly.
"No, Ariana, he's not." Dustin glanced tactfully away from her disappointed expression. Adjusting the collar of his morning shirt with exaggerated dignity, he pulled back a chair and, in a grand, teasing gesture, motioned for Ariana to sit. As she complied, he admonished gently, "The day is half over, sweet. You must be ravenous." With authoritative ease, Dustin signaled to awaiting footman. "Breakfast for Her Grace," he ordered.
"Thank you, Dustin." Ariana smiled, determined not to show how disappointed she was to learn that Trenton was away. She composed herself, counting to ten as she traced the lace pattern of the tablecloth. Then, unable to resist, she casually inquired, "Will Trenton be gone long?"
"He left for Spraystone just after dawn." Dustin eased himself into his chair, folding his arms across his chest and studying Ariana with perceptive compassion. "He didn't mention when he planned to return."
"Spraystone?"
"Trent's estate on the Isle of Wight," Dustin supplied, reminded, yet again, how very little his brother and Ariana actually knew of each other.
"I see."
Dustin wondered if she did. Even he had been astounded this morning by the severity of Trenton's foul humor, which was darker and more forbidding than usual. Up before the sun and ornery as a wounded bear, Trenton had slammed downstairs, nearly knocking Dustin over on the staircase. He hadn't spoken two dozen words, but gulped three cups of black coffee, then announced his decision to leave for Spraystone. Given the circumstances, Dustin hadn’t argued. Inwardly, however, he was worried. Not for himself, for he had braved Trenton’s fury more times than he cared to recall. But for Ariana, who, with or without her consent, had doubtlessly become Trenton's wife last night... in fact as well as name. Dustin only prayed that Trenton had retained enough common sense not to hurt his innocent new duchess. Still, Dustin intended to be there when Ariana arose, to see for himself that she was unharmed.
Studying her now, he could see that his concerns were unfounded. Obviously, Trenton had kept himself in check and initiated his bride gently. A small smile curved Dustin's lips. In truth, if he considered Trenton's wretched mood together with Ariana's artless eagerness, he could almost believe that something significant had happened last night... something that involved far more than a physical consummation. An interesting possibility indeed.
"Spraystone must be lovely," Ariana was saying, frowning at the plate of poached eggs and buttered toast that was placed before her by a dutiful footman.
"It is." Before Dustin could ask why Ariana was displeased with her breakfast, she had pushed away her plate and instead helped herself to a dish of caramel pudding. "All of the Isle of Wight is picturesque," Dustin continued, watching Ariana lick the last creamy drop from her spoon, then enthusiastically bite into a jam tart. "But Spraystone is especially beautiful. It not only overlooks a breathtaking section of the Solent but also provides a clear view of the entire coast of Hampshire... Sweetheart, you're going to make yourself ill," he put in, as Ariana began nibbling at her second tart.
She paused, licking the jam from her lip. "Pardon me?"
"In the last five minutes you've eaten a huge bowl of custard and two tarts. Granted, you could stand a few additional pounds, but wouldn't you like some substantial food?"
Ariana blinked, her stomach lurching as it registered the arrival of its unusually sweet breakfast. "Oh... I didn't realize... That is..."
Seeing her face take on a greenish cast, Dustin came to his feet, snatching apiece of toast and holding it up to Ariana's mouth. "Eat this," he ordered. While she chewed, he poured a cup of tea and thrust it at her. "Now drink."
It took only a few seconds for her stomach to settle. Then she sagged in her chair, giving Dustin a mortified look. "I don't know what to say..." she began.
Dustin's lips twitched. "You did tell me that you eat an extraordinary amount of sweets when you're nervous."
Despite her embarrassment, Ariana found herself smiling back. "I do."
"Therefore I must sadly conclude that, since you've... overindulged on both occasions I've been in your company, I evidently make you nervous."
"Oh, no!" she burst out, unconsciously reaching for his hand. "To the contrary, Dustin, you make me feel very much at home and remarkably relaxed." Her brows knit and her mind began racing, desperately seeking the words to make Dustin realize how crucial his companionship was to the overwhelming adjustment that now confronted her, how extraordinary she found their instant rapport. "Why, yesterday I was beside myself with jitters and you knew just how to calm me. And this morning you're here to make my first official meal at Broddington so much more pleasant. If only Trenton..." She broke off, horrified by what she had implied.
"I understand, Ariana." Dustin covered her small hand with his large one. "And it's all right. My brother is not an easy man to know... to understand," he corrected his choice of words, seeing Ariana blush. For some reason she inspired powerful feelings in him: protective,
tender feelings. The last thing he wanted was her discomfort. "I tell you what," he said on impulse, rising to his feet. "Since Trent is away, why don't I take you on a tour of Broddington? After all, this is your new home, and I'm sure you're curious to see it."
Ariana tried, unsuccessfully, to disguise her excitement. "I don't want to keep you from anything..."
He waved her protest away. "Nonsense. I left all my work at Tyreham. And since I plan to stay at Broddington for several days"-he bowed deeply-"I am at your disposal."
"Oh, Dustin, can we begin now?" Ariana nearly toppled the chair in her zealous attempt to rise.
"Immediately." He gave her a lopsided grin. "That is, of course, if you've had enough to eat."
Ariana smiled. "I believe I've had my fill, thank you."
"Good. Then let's begin our tour."
"Given the size of Broddington, `excursion' would be a better choice of words," she pointed out as they strolled into the marble-columned billiard room.
"True." Dustin gestured toward the carved billiards table. "Do you play?"
"Me?" Ariana gave him a wan smile. "Hardly."
"You probably prefer badminton," he rectified, mistaking her adamant response for a display of offended female sensibilities. "Now that sport is certainly catching on rapidly and is, undoubtedly, more appealing to a lady."
Ariana shook her head in apology. "I'm afraid my knowledge of sports is sadly lacking. I've played tennis once or twice and, of course, I ride, but..." She shrugged with casual acquiescence. "I'm alone a great deal and there was never anyone to properly instruct me. However, I'm never lonely: I have my flowers and my animals."
"I'll instruct you."
She blinked. "You will?" "Name your preference," he confirmed, grinning at her amazement. "Let's see..." He began counting off on his fingers: "There's badminton, billiards, tennis, sailing..." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Poker..."
"Poker?" Now she did look shocked.
"Queen Victoria plays," he tempted.
A spark appeared in her eyes. "Does she, now? Well then, so shall I!"
"Done," Dustin concluded with a snap of his fingers. His infectious enthusiasm made Ariana bold. "And Dustin?"
"Hmmm?"
"The game I've always wanted to learn is croquet."
"Then our tour will lead us to the front lawn, where your training will commence."
"Today?"
"What better time than the present?"
Ariana felt gratitude well up inside her. "Thank you," she said in a small, choked voice.
Dustin smoothed his mustache, suddenly furious at his brother for abandoning this exceptional young woman. Didn't Trenton see what a treasure he'd been granted?
With great difficulty Dustin bit down on his anger, knowing full well that Trenton saw nothing, for he was blinded by his bloody vengeance. For the time being, Ariana's happiness was in Dustin's hands.
Resigned to his delightfully appealing task, he cupped Ariana's elbow and winked. "Instructing you in croquet will be my pleasure. Now, shall we move on to the drawing room?"
Ariana followed Dustin down the endless tiled hall to the drawing room. Pausing in the doorway, she caught her breath. "How elegant!"
Stained-glass windows lined the walls, admitting just enough light to emphasize the domed ceilings, green velvet sofas, and magnificent marble fireplace. Huge trefoiled mirrors hung between the windows, making the room seem even grander and more enormous.
Awed, Ariana strolled about, running her hand over a priceless statue, terrified that it might shatter at the merest touch. She traced the gilded trim along the room's marble columns with one tentative fingertip, marveling at the talent it had taken to design such a palace.
"Winsham's drawing room is half this size," she murmured, half to herself. She gazed off, a faraway look in her eyes. "We celebrated Christmas there when Mama and Papa were alive. I was so small... it seemed to me that the tree filled the whole room. I recall thinking what a miracle it was, the transformation from drawing room to winter garden." Self-consciously, she glanced up. "I'm sorry, Dustin... I'm babbling." On the heels of the apology she dimpled. "Babbling is something I do, not only when I'm nervous, but all the time."
Dustin chuckled. "Actually, your memories are charming."
"They're few and far between," she replied with a sad shrug. "My parents died when I was three. I scarcely remember them." She turned back to the painstakingly crafted columns. "In any case, Winsham isn't, nor was it ever, as grand as this."
Squinting, Dustin tried to view the room, the entire estate, through Ariana's untrained eyes. "My father adored Broddington," he said, his tone rich with his own memories. "This particular estate was not only his home but his greatest achievement."
Ariana looked up. "Trenton told me your father designed Broddington...assisted by his two sons."
A half-smile played about Dustin's lips. "Trent told you that, did he? Well, despite my brother's foul temper, he is far too modest. He and my father did the actual designs. I merely provided an occasional suggestion."
"Trenton also said your father was a genius."
"And he was."
"I can see that" She hesitated. "Will you tell me about him?"
A gamut of emotions played over Dustin's face. "Father was a proud and brilliant man. But despite his incredible talent he was, by nature, a traditionalist, devoted to his family and his home." Dustin stared at the floor. "The Kingsley name meant the world to him."
"You're very fortunate," Ariana replied softly, leaning against the sturdy column. She studied Dustin's bowed head, her heart swelling with a compassion that surmounted the questions crowding her mind. "I suppose, being a young child, I was spared the full wrenching impact of losing my parents. While in your case, you were a grown man when your father died. How his loss must have hurt you."
"Yes, it hurt me." Dustin's voice was raw. "But it nearly killed Trenton."
Everything inside Ariana turned cold. "Dustin..."
"Come." Dustin turned away, his firm tone telling her that, for now, the subject was closed. "Let's go on to the music room."
Their tour of the music room, library, and morning room were conducted in near silence, punctuated only by Dustin's clipped descriptions and the plodding sound of their footsteps sinking into the plush Axminster carpets.
On the stairway, Ariana halted, turning abruptly and seizing Dustin's arm. "Please, Dustin. I apologize for asking questions that were none of my business. I only wanted to understand you better... to understand Trenton better," she added honestly. "I never meant to pry. Forgive me."
Dustin's troubled expression cleared and he kissed Ariana's cold fingers. "It is I who should be asking your forgiveness. You did nothing wrong. It's very natural for you to ask questions about your husband's family. The only excuse I have for my behavior is that our talk made me remember things I haven’t allowed myself to think about for many years." He hesitated. "As you know, the entire Kingsley family disintegrated when my father died. Nothing's been the same since." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Sometimes I wonder if it ever will be."
"It will." Ariana had no idea whose strong, determined voice that was, but it appeared to be coming from her mouth. "I'll make certain it is."
Dustin started, then a slow smile curved his lips. "I'm counting on that, sweetheart," he told her, squeezing her hand. "If ever there was hope for us, you’re it."
" `If a man look sharply, and attentively, he shall see Fortune; for though she be blind, yet she is not invisible,"' Theresa announced, marching by them on her way to the kitchen. "I'll have tea served on the front lawn this afternoon. You'll need refreshment after your croquet lesson." She disappeared around the corner of the first-floor landing.
Dustin gaped. "Who the... what the... how did she..."
"Theresa," Ariana supplied helpfully. "My lady's maid. She was quoting Sir Francis Bacon for you; he's her favorite. The only one of your questions I cannot answer is `how she.' I assume you a
re asking how she knew we would be playing croquet. I assure you she did not eavesdrop. My only explanation is that Theresa knows many things that we don't. I suggest you not ponder it too deeply; just accept it, for it is the truth." Ariana grinned. "You can close your mouth now, Dustin."
He snapped it shut. "I see."
"No, you don't. But she does." Ariana continued up the stairs. "Can we visit the second level now?"
Dustin nodded, still totally at sea, and proceeded to the second-floor landing.
The bedrooms were lavishly decorated and as impressive as the rest of the house. Still, Ariana experienced the same vague sense of inconsistency she had in her own bedroom the night before. For despite the magnificent craftsmanship and detail, the walls were devoid of paintings, the desks barren, the rooms sparsely furnished and cold, austere-a complete contrast to what she would have expected from the late duke.
Upon entering Trenton's private sitting room and finding nothing more than a bare desk and an untouched armchair, Ariana could no longer contain her puzzlement.
"Why is this floor so impersonal and stark?" She gestured toward the empty walls. "I know Broddington has been deserted since... for six years," she amended, unwilling to bring the late duke's name back into the conversation and risk upsetting Dustin, "but the ground level seems so rich, so... lovingly crafted. Why are the living quarters so drastically different?"
Dustin folded his arms across his chest, staring into space as if seeing into the past. "This sitting room belonged to my father... His favorite room in the house. Not aesthetically, but spiritually. He spent long hours alone here, thinking and dreaming. The entire second floor was designed like that, for living as well as sleeping. It looked very different than it does now, filled with all my father's personal things, paintings of my mother, rare sculpture she’d acquired in his travels, sketches of Broddington long before it was built." Dustin sighed, leaving the past behind. "Trenton had everything removed when Father died. It ceased to be a home. It hasn't been one since then."
Echoes in the Mist Page 11
