Ballantine crouched down to scratch the dog behind the ear, delighting the animal.
Forgetting all about Joe, Diana straightened, her throat suddenly dry. “We have come to inquire about a friend of mine. Lady Anne Daintith. Would your mistress or master know of her?”
The ginger-haired maid stared at her. “You must mean Mrs. Trent.”
“Who is it, Mary?” came a voice from deep in the shadowy hallway.
Diana pushed past the maid and stumbled forward along the hall toward a woman who had just stepped into view. “Anne?” Her chest heaved and tears spilled down her cheeks.
Anne walked toward her in stately fashion, shock registering in her eyes, her belly large beneath her apron, her blonde hair in a bun beneath a small, lace cap. She sighed as she put her arms around Diana and drew her close. “I knew you’d find me someday.”
“You planned this?” Diana moved back, suffering from joy, confusion, and betrayal. “You let me think you’d been…” She could not say the words for the life of her.
Anne gazed at Ballantine. “Who is this?”
“Anne, I’d like you to meet Damian Beaufort, Earl of Ballantine, who has helped me to find you.” She turned to Ballantine, and saw the concern in his eyes. “Lord Ballantine, may I present Lady Anne Daintith. Or… I suppose, Lady Anne Trent?”
“I go by the name of Mrs. Trent here.” Anne smiled politely. “How do you do, Lord Ballantine?” She turned back to Diana. “How did you find out where I was?” she asked, her eyes fearful. “My father hasn’t found out?”
“No, Anne. We followed Joseph Smythe’s trail. Your father knows nothing,” Diana said. “And he won’t, Anne. If you don’t wish it.”
Anne’s shoulders drooped, but she looked relieved. “Please, come into the parlor.” She turned to the maid. “Mary, bring the tea tray. We’ll have the iced carrot cake.”
The nicely furnished parlor, like the rest of the property, was as neat as a pin. The warm room smelled of smoke, lavender, and beeswax, which mingled with the sweet aromas of baked goods wafting from the kitchen. “I owe you an explanation, Diana. Please, will you both sit down?”
The dog settled into his basket, his tail wagging.
Fearing she might be dreaming, Diana sank onto the sofa covered in chintz while Ballantine, who had said nothing beyond the pleasantries, took an upholstered chair by the fireplace.
“My husband, Gerald Trent, worked on my father’s estate at one time,” Anne began.
“He told the kidnapper where to find you,” Diana said, disliking him even before she met him. “Your routine after you went shopping. The route you took.”
Anne shook her head.
Realization dawned inside Diana’s mind. “Hewasthe kidnapper. You were never in danger.”
Anne chewed her lip but nodded. “Joe helped us. He and Gerald were friends, so he knew… But it was a mutual decision, Diana. Gerald and I love each other. I couldn’t tell my father I was with child. Papa had arranged a marriage to a man I detested. My life would have been hellish after he discovered the child wasn’t his.” Her face softened, and she looked towardthe door. “And I wanted to marry the man I love.” Anne’s smile became strained. “You think I wouldn’t wish to be a farmer’s wife? Being a lord’s wife was not for me, and certainly not married to the haughty viscount. I am exactly where I want to be,” she said, her eyes smiling as Mary brought in the tea things. “And I’m blissfully happy.”
A tall, brown-haired man wearing leather breeches and a patched jacket came into the parlor in his socks. The dog left its basket and ran to greet him. He patted the dog’s neck, looking surprised and wary. “I wasn’t aware we had visitors.” His blue eyes sought Anne’s, and he received a nod of reassurance.
“Forgive me,” he said. “My boots were muddy, and it’s more than my life is worth to wear them in the house. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll change.”
Anne rose and joined him at the door, taking his hand in hers. “Don’t go yet, my love. I’d like you to meet my wonderful friend, Lady Diana Stafford, whom I have told you so much about. Diana will never betray us. I know she has a big heart.”
Diana introduced Ballantine, who had climbed to his feet. “This has turned out far better than we feared it would, sir,” Ballantine said, offering his hand.
“I am relieved to hear you say so, milord,” Trent said, shaking it. “But we should not like this to become known. Please do be seated.” Still uneasy, he touched Anne’s arm and, with a loving smile, left the room, the dog following.
Anne poured the tea Mary had brought in while the maid served the cake, still warm from the oven.
While not what Diana would call handsome, Anne’s husband had a gentle face. He obviously loved Anne. She was overwhelmed to find Anne safe but had to fight a sense of betrayal. Why hadn’t Anne thought she could confide in her? She had caused so many to suffer. Soon after Anne had been taken, her mother had passed away. Did Anne know of herdeath? Diana hated to be the one to tell her. Her mother had expected, as Diana had, that Anne had been the perfect, demure lady who would marry for duty.
Mr. Trent returned to the room, having changed his clothes, and Ballantine immediately drew him into a conversation about farming practices. Ballantine confessed to relying on his brother to run his estate and a desire to further his knowledge for the time when he took over the reins again.
It gave Diana a glimpse into Ballantine’s life. One day, he must give up his dangerous life. But when would that be?
Mr. Trent invited him to look over the farm. After their tea, the men went outside, the dog following in their wake.