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Authors: Echoes in the Mist
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are my own. But the signature belongs to our Queen. Will you disobey her order?”
“Baxter is right … you are a bastard,” Ariana breathed, her voice breaking.
Trenton’s jaw tightened. “Then on August 5th you will become a bastard’s wife.”
“Please … don’t do this.” She tried one last time to beseech him.
Something flashed in his eyes, something sympathetic and vulnerable … then it was gone. “Until August 5th, misty angel,” he repeated, backing away. “After that you belong to me.”
“Baxter?” Ariana averted her head, gazing pleadingly in her brother’s direction, wondering why he remained so deadly silent.
Baxter’s mind was still reeling. Ariana … marry Kingsley? Was this the scoundrel’s final revenge? To rob Baxter of his only remaining sister and force her to become Mrs. Trenton Kingsley?
Baxter closed his eyes. The idea was abhorrent, intolerable. If he honored the Queen’s command, Ariana would belong to his most despised enemy, the bastard who had taken all he had, the anathema of his existence.
The most affluent man in Sussexshire.
That realization brought Baxter’s conjecturing to a dead halt, as greed reared its ugly head. Pride intervened, warring with greed, determined to prevail. But need pride be sacrificed? If he and Ariana found a way to outwit the blackhearted snake, couldn’t Baxter retain his pride and usurp Kingsley’s fortune? Wouldn’t that be the ultimate form of vengeance?
A twinge of guilt pricked Baxter’s conscience. This was Ariana’s life he was toying with. Wasn’t she entitled to more than an empty life with a husband who despised her?
No, he corrected himself. It wasn’t Ariana who Kingsley despised; it was he. And Baxter knew Trenton well enough to know that, no matter what else he was capable of, he wouldn’t abuse an innocent girl.
As for Ariana, well, she would prevail. Despite her diminutive size, his sister was a survivor. She could withstand a life with Trenton Kingsley … especially if it meant partaking in his vast fortune.
And sharing the wealth with her brother.
“Let me see the edict,” Baxter heard himself say.
Stiffly, Trenton extended his arm, clearly unwilling to take even one compromising step in Baxter’s direction.
Ignoring the blatant insult, Baxter strode over and seized the paper, wondering how Trenton had managed to gain Her Majesty’s cooperation. Despite her fondness for the Kingsley family, Victoria had never interfered on their behalf. At least until now.
Suspiciously, Baxter studied the mandate to make certain it was what Kingsley claimed it to be. But the decree was genuine, the Queen’s signature authentic.
Baxter raised compassionate eyes to Ariana. “I’m sorry, sprite.” He winced at her agonized expression. “There’s nothing I can do.” He ignored the triumph on Trenton’s face, reminding himself that it was temporary.
Ariana’s eyes filled with tears. “This is barbaric!”
“My lady.” Undetected, Theresa had descended the stairs. Now she took Ariana’s arm gently. “You are overwrought. Come. I’ll take you to your room.”
“It’s settled, then,” Trenton concluded, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “The wedding will take place on August 5th. The reception will be held at Broddington. Hundreds of guests will attend to see the Viscount Winsham’s little sister become the Duchess of Broddington.”
Ariana stared at him, numb with increasing rage and shock. “I hate you,” she said in a fierce whisper.
His lips twisted into a cynical smile. “Do you, misty angel? Well, I look forward to seeing how much.”
CHAPTER
5
A RIANA WAS DRAINED.
Pushing herself into a sitting position, she blinked at the small walnut clock on her nightstand. Three o’clock … more than two hours since she’d fled to the sanctuary of her four-poster bed. Her tears had long since dried, her resistance dwindled to despair. She had to face her dilemma … alone.
For the first time in
“Baxter is right … you are a bastard,” Ariana breathed, her voice breaking.
Trenton’s jaw tightened. “Then on August 5th you will become a bastard’s wife.”
“Please … don’t do this.” She tried one last time to beseech him.
Something flashed in his eyes, something sympathetic and vulnerable … then it was gone. “Until August 5th, misty angel,” he repeated, backing away. “After that you belong to me.”
“Baxter?” Ariana averted her head, gazing pleadingly in her brother’s direction, wondering why he remained so deadly silent.
Baxter’s mind was still reeling. Ariana … marry Kingsley? Was this the scoundrel’s final revenge? To rob Baxter of his only remaining sister and force her to become Mrs. Trenton Kingsley?
Baxter closed his eyes. The idea was abhorrent, intolerable. If he honored the Queen’s command, Ariana would belong to his most despised enemy, the bastard who had taken all he had, the anathema of his existence.
The most affluent man in Sussexshire.
That realization brought Baxter’s conjecturing to a dead halt, as greed reared its ugly head. Pride intervened, warring with greed, determined to prevail. But need pride be sacrificed? If he and Ariana found a way to outwit the blackhearted snake, couldn’t Baxter retain his pride and usurp Kingsley’s fortune? Wouldn’t that be the ultimate form of vengeance?
A twinge of guilt pricked Baxter’s conscience. This was Ariana’s life he was toying with. Wasn’t she entitled to more than an empty life with a husband who despised her?
No, he corrected himself. It wasn’t Ariana who Kingsley despised; it was he. And Baxter knew Trenton well enough to know that, no matter what else he was capable of, he wouldn’t abuse an innocent girl.
As for Ariana, well, she would prevail. Despite her diminutive size, his sister was a survivor. She could withstand a life with Trenton Kingsley … especially if it meant partaking in his vast fortune.
And sharing the wealth with her brother.
“Let me see the edict,” Baxter heard himself say.
Stiffly, Trenton extended his arm, clearly unwilling to take even one compromising step in Baxter’s direction.
Ignoring the blatant insult, Baxter strode over and seized the paper, wondering how Trenton had managed to gain Her Majesty’s cooperation. Despite her fondness for the Kingsley family, Victoria had never interfered on their behalf. At least until now.
Suspiciously, Baxter studied the mandate to make certain it was what Kingsley claimed it to be. But the decree was genuine, the Queen’s signature authentic.
Baxter raised compassionate eyes to Ariana. “I’m sorry, sprite.” He winced at her agonized expression. “There’s nothing I can do.” He ignored the triumph on Trenton’s face, reminding himself that it was temporary.
Ariana’s eyes filled with tears. “This is barbaric!”
“My lady.” Undetected, Theresa had descended the stairs. Now she took Ariana’s arm gently. “You are overwrought. Come. I’ll take you to your room.”
“It’s settled, then,” Trenton concluded, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “The wedding will take place on August 5th. The reception will be held at Broddington. Hundreds of guests will attend to see the Viscount Winsham’s little sister become the Duchess of Broddington.”
Ariana stared at him, numb with increasing rage and shock. “I hate you,” she said in a fierce whisper.
His lips twisted into a cynical smile. “Do you, misty angel? Well, I look forward to seeing how much.”
CHAPTER
5
A RIANA WAS DRAINED.
Pushing herself into a sitting position, she blinked at the small walnut clock on her nightstand. Three o’clock … more than two hours since she’d fled to the sanctuary of her four-poster bed. Her tears had long since dried, her resistance dwindled to despair. She had to face her dilemma … alone.
For the first time in
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