by Andrea Kane
“Now why don’t I believe that?” Ariana responded dryly. “From the gossip I’ve heard thus far this season, it sounds as if you’ve attended every party and danced with every woman the ton has to offer. Soon you’ll be forced to travel abroad in order to discover new prospects. Rather like you do with your thoroughbreds.”
“An interesting concept.” Surprisingly, Dustin sobered, staring pensively into his drink. “Unfortunately, however, I’m finding the allure of my thoroughbreds to be far more long-standing than that of my liaisons. I fear my brother snatched up the last real treasure in a vast array of shoddy imitations.”
Ariana inclined her head. “Did something unpleasant happen at Newmarket?”
“Yes. My mare lost.”
“Very amusing. That’s not what I meant and you know it. You’re not one to agonize over your losses—probably because they rarely occur. Now, are you going to answer my question?”
“Touché.” Dustin raised his glass in tribute. “Very well. No, nothing happened at Newmarket—at least nothing tangible. But you’re right. I am restless. Why? I haven’t a clue. Perhaps it is time to travel abroad. I might not find intriguing women, but I’m sure I’ll discover an Arabian or two.”
Unfooled by his lighthearted quip, Ariana studied Dustin, wondering how her brother-in-law would react if she were to tell him what she believed to be not the immediate but the underlying cause of his malady. Was he ready to hear it? And was she the one to impart the fact that he was far too warm and loving a man to be eternally content with empty dalliances and profitable horse races?
Chewing her lip, Ariana resettled herself—and her son—in the cozy armchair.
Alexander was gone before she’d smoothed her skirts. He slid down the seat cushion, dropped to the rug, and crawled toward the sideboard—a miniature bandit intent on completing his crime.
He collided with his father’s boots.
“Well, I see you’ve kept your poor mother occupied. All day, I suspect.” Hoisting Alexander into his arms, Trenton Kingsley crossed over to his wife. “I’m home, misty angel.” He bent, brushing her lips with his. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” Ariana caressed her husband’s jaw. “You’ve been gone forever. It was scarcely dawn when you left for Bembridge. Was the storm’s destruction that severe?”
A tired nod. “Unfortunately, the village sustained quite a bit of damage. The good news, however, is that most of it is now in the process of being rectified.”
“In other words, you spent all day securing the homes and providing for the families.”
Trenton smiled tenderly at the blatant pride in her assertion. “It wasn’t so remarkable a feat. After all, I have the money and the knowledge of the structures.”
“You also have the heart,” Ariana added fervently, love shining in her eyes. “You’re incredible—and I don’t mean as an architect or a duke. I mean as a man.”
“And you’re beautiful.” Trenton frowned, stroking the shadows of fatigue beneath her lids. “But you look exhausted. In retrospect, I’m sorry we didn’t bring Alexander’s governess to Spraystone with us. At least you would have had some assistance.”
“I couldn’t do that to Mrs. Hopkins. She was more exhausted than I. Why, she nearly wept with joy when I told her to stay at Broddington for a much-needed rest. I suspect she’ll sleep the entire week in anticipation of Alexander’s return. Besides, I did have some help. Dustin was a savior.”
Trenton’s gaze flickered to his brother. “My thanks are twofold, then. One for helping Ariana with my rascal of a son, and one for remaining at Spraystone and keeping an eye on them both while I was away. I know you wanted to help out in the village, but when I left this morning, the skies were still ominous, the grounds were covered with splintered wood, and the base of the hill behind the cottage was badly flooded. I would never have left Ariana and Alexander alone, nor would I have trusted them into anyone’s care but yours.”
“My pleasure.” Dustin waved away the thanks, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “Although, if you ask me, neither debris nor rushing waters are any match for your son. In truth, I believe that, had the storm chosen to resume, it would have survived a scant hour in Alexander’s company before spinning out over the Solent as fast as its winds could whip.”
Laughter rumbled in Trenton’s chest. “You’re probably right. What did my little villain do today?”
“You name it,” Dustin replied, counting off on his fingers. “Painted the oriental rug in the library a vivid green, used the silver tea service as a thunderous new musical instrument, plucked stray feathers from your hens. He has a propensity for detail, your son. The uneven feathers seemed to offend him. So, once again, did the inexplicable existence of facial hair on human beings.” Gingerly, Dustin touched the ends of his mustache and winced. “I take it I’m the only one he knows with one of these.”
“Actually,” Trenton replied thoughtfully, “I never before considered it, but yes. No wonder it baffles him so.”
“Well, I’ve endured eight months of bafflement in the hopes that he’d come to accept it. But now he’s graduated from bafflement to attempted obliteration. He spent the latter portion of the morning trying to detach my mustache from my upper lip. Thus, I’ve decided to concede and shave the bloody thing off the instant I return to Tyreham. At least that will leave one less part of me for Alexander to destroy.” A wry grin. “In any case, by midafternoon Ariana had reached the point where she looked as if she were about to drop. So, I took over myself, confident that an eight-month-old’s stamina was no match for a vigorous man of two and thirty. After three hours of frolicking in the barn and two hours of storytelling in the nursery, I’d altered my opinion. Your heir wasn’t a bit fatigued, while I, on the other hand, fell asleep on the nursery floor, where I snored away the afternoon, awakening only when Ariana came to fetch me for dinner.”
“I see.” Trenton had to struggle to control his mirth. “And what, pray tell, did Alexander do during your well-earned respite?”
“Located a new diversion,” Ariana sighed. “He squirmed down the stairs, feet first, only to discover the beloved haven you just completed for me. I spotted him as he crossed the conservatory threshold, eyes alight as he realized that it afforded him the same intriguing amusements as the conservatory at Broddington. By the time I’d dashed after him and crept through the pile of dirt he’d spilled, he’d already managed to upend three ferns and topple six geraniums.”
Trenton’s shoulders were shaking. “He’s your son, Ariana. Inspired by flowers and animals.”
“I beg to differ with you, Your Grace,” Ariana retorted. “Alexander’s propensity for getting into trouble is inherited from you. I was, and am, serene and content.”
“Content, yes—after a fashion,” Trenton concurred, having given the matter proper consideration. “But serene? Not until I’ve worn you out.”
“Nevertheless,” Ariana hastily interrupted, blushing as Dustin disguised his chuckle with a cough, “Alexander’s devilish resolve is a Kingsley trait. Like all of you, he’s intense, impatient, and perpetually in search of a challenge. I should know. I’m surrounded by Kingsley men.”
Dustin stood to replenish his drink. “Why, Ariana, you cut me to the quick. Intense? Impatient? And here I thought I was remarkably easy to get along with; far more charming than Trent, and not nearly as moody or volatile.”
“Normally, I’d agree.” Trenton joined his brother at the sideboard. “But not this week. This week you’ve been testy as a bear and unsettled as hell.”
Groaning, Dustin lowered the bottle with a thud. “First Ariana, now you. Well, you can both stop worrying. To my knowledge, nothing is wrong. Other than the fact that my trainer is retiring and my last three jockeys have been totally unable to win races.” He shrugged. “Maybe I’m just becoming intolerant in my old age. Or maybe, as I told Ariana, it’s time to go searching for new horses and horsemen to fill my stables.”
“Yo
u have the finest thoroughbreds in Surrey—perhaps even in England,” Ariana inserted quietly. “’Tis their owner who is out of sorts, not they.”
Silently, Dustin traced the edge of the mahogany sideboard. “Perhaps you’re right,” he acknowledged.
That did it. Ariana’s decision was made.
Rising, she transferred Alexander from Trenton’s arms to her own, giving her husband a meaningful look. Talk to him, her eyes pleaded. You’re the only one who can.
Wordlessly, Trenton nodded.
“Once again, I’m going to attempt to put Alexander to bed,” Ariana stated. “And, given that it’s after eight o’clock and his eyelids are drooping, perhaps I’ll succeed. After which we can take a chance and sample our dinner. Since Clara was unable to get through Bembridge’s flooded roads, I tackled the job of preparing today’s meals. I’m encouraged by the fact that Dustin has consumed two of them and continues to live—a hopeful sign indeed. With a modicum of luck, we’ll all survive the ordeal.”
“You’re a superb cook, misty angel.”
“She’d be even better if you’d allow her more time in the kitchen,” Dustin suggested, his mischievous grin revived. “Between satisfying Alexander’s continual needs and your exhaustive ones …”
“That’s it.” Ariana scooted toward the door, her cheeks aflame. “I’m off to the nursery.”
“Hurry back,” Dustin called after her rapidly retreating back. “I look forward to continuing our discussion of your culinary skills.”
Still chuckling, he turned to his brother. “She’s quite a prize, Trent. Open and honest and so bloody in love with you that it’s humbling. You’re a lucky man.”
“I know.” Trenton sipped his madeira, his gaze fixed on Dustin’s. “Care to talk about it?” he asked bluntly.
Dustin didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I would if I knew what it was.” He sighed, humor eclipsed by uncertainty. “All I know is that lately everything seems so meaningless—the day-to-day rituals, the business arrangements, the competitions.”
“The women?”
“Yes—them, too.” Dustin abandoned his drink. “All in all, my life has become utterly tedious and predictable.”
“Predictable?” Trenton’s brows rose. “This from the man who changes partners more frequently than he changes clothes?”
“That’s just sex, Trent, nothing more than a pleasurable distraction. Gratifying, yes, but distinctly unfulfilling.”
“I could name a dozen women who’d be thrilled to convert that distraction into a lifetime commitment.”
“Marriage you mean?” Dustin shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ve spoiled me, Brother. After seeing what you and Ariana share, I won’t settle for less. The women you’re referring to regard me as a coveted prize. They like my money and the title Queen Victoria granted me. Well, perhaps that’s enough for some, but not for me. At least sex is honest. Fleeting, but honest. It assuages the body but circumvents the heart. Surely you recall?”
“Yes, I recall,” Trenton murmured with the quiet insight of a man who, thanks to his miraculous wife, knew the difference between lovemaking and sex.
“Then there’s nothing else to say. I’m drifting, and I know it. But for the time being, I see no alternative.”
Trenton nodded, shifting to another unsettled aspect of Dustin’s life. “You mentioned several upsets in your staff. I know Banks’s retirement comes as no surprise. Still, he’s been training your thoroughbreds since you began breeding them to race. His resignation must pose a major setback.”
“I’d be lying if I said otherwise. Banks is the best trainer in Surrey, perhaps in England. But I understand his decision. I’d probably make the same one, were I he. Trent, the man is nearing fifty. He’s got a wife, children, even grandchildren. He’s been training for twenty years, not to mention the ten years of riding he did prior to that. He’s tired. Training is grueling as hell. I can’t blame him for his choice.”
“Nor can I,” Trenton concurred. “Have you made arrangements for a new trainer?”
“I’ve interviewed five. Two of them are good. Damned good. I plan to meet with each once more. Then I’ll make a decision.”
“What about the ineffectual jockeys you mentioned?”
Dustin rolled his eyes. “Every one of the last three, while appearing to offer great promise when hired, has turned out to be a colossal disappointment.”
“You’ll rectify that.”
“I already have. They’ve all been dismissed. Permanently. I’m finished tolerating indifference and mediocrity. My stables boast the finest thoroughbreds to date. I want an equally fine rider on their backs. In my mind, only one man fits that description—Nick Aldridge.”
“I can’t dispute that.” Trenton nodded his approval. “Aldridge is one hell of a jockey.”
“Indeed he is. With him in the saddle, my champions will take every race of the season.”
“Then I presume Aldridge has agreed to your terms?”
“He will. Once I unearth him, that is.”
“Unearth him? Didn’t he just ride at Newmarket?”
“Yes, brilliantly. He won the Two Thousand Guineas by at least ten lengths. I fully intended to resolve things then and there by offering him a retainer—and a small fortune—to ride exclusively for me. However, as luck would have it, he was surrounded by a mob of well-wishers the instant he passed the winning post, after which no one seemed able to find him. I even sent a messenger to his home that night, but to no avail.” Dustin shrugged. “He was probably out celebrating. I’m not concerned. I’ll find him. I would have pursued the matter further, had I not been leaving for Spraystone. Upon my return, I plan to place an ad in the Gazette—one that clearly states Aldridge’s name and the terms of my offer. I’m arrogant enough to believe he’s heard of me, and that, between my reputation and the sum I’m willing to pay, he’ll find me.” Dustin rubbed his palms together, a hint of the old Dustin surfacing in the challenging gleam that lit his midnight eyes.
“It sounds as if your tedium is about to come to an end.”
“Yes, at least in business matters.” The gleam vanished. “So, now that all my problems are resolved, we can ready ourselves for Ariana’s excellent meal.”
An enthusiastic squeal from the upstairs nursery negated that thought.
“You spoke too soon,” Trenton muttered with a wry grin. “Evidently, my son has recouped his strength. I’d best go up and hasten this bedtime procedure, lest we starve.”
Another squeal reached their ears, followed by Ariana’s soft, loving admonishment.
Dustin swallowed, oddly shaken by the tender exchange between mother and son. “Trent, I’ll be leaving Spraystone in the morning.”
Silently, Trenton absorbed his brother’s announcement. “That’s a rather sudden decision, isn’t it?”
“Sudden, but necessary.”
“Why? You arrived only a few days ago.”
“I know. And I’ve enjoyed every moment of my visit. But you need time alone with your wife and son. While I …” Roughly, Dustin cleared his throat. “I’ve a great deal on my mind and quite a bit to resolve. I’m restless as hell, which you and Ariana both noticed. I think it’s best that I return to Tyreham and address that restlessness—at least the part that’s within my ability to control. I’ve got to get on with my life, whatever the future may hold.”
“I understand, perhaps better than you think. Although you know you’re welcome here as long as you choose to stay.” Trenton placed his hands on Dustin’s shoulders, searching for just the right words. “Dustin, you, better than anyone, know how very little I believed in before I found Ariana. I was nothing more than a callous and embittered shell until that blessed day she stumbled into my life. And now? Now I’m whole. I believe in love, in trust, even in forever. If there’s hope for an unyielding cynic like me, there’s certainly hope for you.”
“Thanks, Trent.” Dustin didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “However, waiting is fast
becoming more than a mere inconvenience. To quote your wife, I’m intense, impatient, and perpetually in search of a challenge. A Kingsley trait, I believe she said.”
A corner of Trenton’s mouth lifted. “Ah, but the rewards are well worth the wait. Just look at how contented this Kingsley has become.”
Warmth pervaded Dustin’s gaze. “I have. And if ever I doubted the existence of miracles, your transformation has long since erased those doubts. As for the love you and Ariana share, I could wish for no more.” He arched a speculative brow. “Now if only I were sure that wishes are granted.”
Miles away, gazing out the window, Nicole was pondering much the same thing—but for entirely different reasons.
Her eyes damp, she clutched a filigreed locket in her hand, seeing naught but dread in the starlit sky above. “I’m frightened, Mama,” she whispered to the ubiquitous heavens. “So frightened. Papa’s a wonderful man, and he’s all I have. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him.” Unsteadily, she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Can you hear me, Mama? I’m wishing. Just as you taught me, I’m wishing—for Papa’s sake, and for mine. If ever I needed the magic of my wishing locket, it’s now. Please …” Nicole’s voice faltered, her fist clenched tightly about the delicate piece of silver, “please let this wish come true.”
Two
“NICKIE, THIS IS NO life. Not for either of us.”
Nick Aldridge swung away from the window, pacing his half of the room’s modest floor. “I shouldn’t have listened to you. Or to Sully, for that matter. Now I’m imprisoned in a bloody London inn, locked up like a caged rat for Lord knows how long. You and your crazy scheme.”
“It isn’t crazy, Papa,” Nicole murmured, her voice muffled by the blanket they’d strung up to afford each a bit of privacy. She stepped around it, concentrating on the unfamiliar task of buttoning up a bodice. “The rumor we started makes perfect sense. As far as the world knows, you injured your leg during the last furlong of the Two Thousand Guineas and are now recuperating outside of Glasgow, at the home of relatives.”