Heartless (13 page)

“What you do or do not do is of little consequence.”

“I'm not his mistress,” Ariel put in defensively, finding her voice at last.

“You're lying,” Barbara said.

“I'm telling you the truth.”

“Then what in God's name are you doing here?”

“I'm … I'm … I'm helping Lord Greville with his books. He … he needed someone to help him calculate the figures and I have a talent for numbers.”

Barbara cast a disbelieving look in his direction.

“Ask her to multiply eleven times thirty-six.”

“It's three hundred ninety-six,” Ariel hastily replied before Barbara could open her mouth.

“There, you see? Miss Summers's help has been invaluable.”

Clearly his sister had her doubts, but Justin was rapidly growing bored with trying to placate her. “How long will you be staying?” he asked, simply to change the subject.

Barbara cast a brittle look his way. “Less than a week, I'm certain you'll be happy to know. I'm here for the occasion of Lord Mountmain's wedding. Afterward, Thomas and I will be returning to Greville Hall.”

A week of his sister was more than enough. He prayed she would keep her vicious tongue away from Ariel. “Since that is the case, enjoy your stay.”

She might, he thought, but he certainly wouldn't. He wouldn't have a moment's peace until his sister was gone.

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Ariel turned away from the venomous gray eyes of Lord Greville's sister and accepted the arm the earl offered, grateful for the chance to escape.

They had only taken a few steps toward the door when the sound of small running feet filled the corridor. The child, perhaps six or seven, slid to a halt in front of them, his eyes shooting upward. When he recognized the earl, his narrow face split into a grin.

“Uncle Justin!” The child launched himself into Lord Greville's arms, laughing joyously as the earl lifted him into the air, then settled him against a broad shoulder.

“I believe you've grown, young Thomas.”

“I have?”

“Without a doubt.” Justin turned to Ariel. “This is my nephew, Thomas. Thomas, this is Miss Summers.” There was a softness in the earl's stern features she hadn't seen before, a look of affection Ariel wouldn't have believed him capable of. It was obvious he cared for the boy. Perhaps even he didn't realize how much.

Ariel smiled. “Hello, Thomas.”

The child turned suddenly shy, his long black lashes sweeping down over Greville gray eyes. Justin set the boy back on his feet and the child eased a little behind him.

“It's nice to meet you,” Thomas finally said, giving her a small, sweet smile.

His mother's voice rang out just then, approaching from down the hall: “Thomas! I thought I told you to go upstairs and play.” His shy smile faded. “You know I'm expecting visitors. What on earth are you doing down here?”

He looked up at her with beseeching eyes. “Cook made the best gingerbread cookies. I thought you might want one.” Reaching down the front of his shirt, he pulled out a still-warm, slightly mashed gingerbread cookie, offering it to his mother in a small, grubby hand.

Barbara frowned and took a step away. “Good heavens, get that thing away from me—it looks as if it's been stepped on. If you're not careful, you're going to dirty my gown.”

Thomas's thin shoulders sagged. The hand that held the cookie drooped as if it suddenly weighed a hundred pounds.

“Come on, Thomas.” Justin hoisted the boy back up on his shoulder. “Miss Summers and I would both like a cookie. Perhaps you could show us where to find them.”

He grinned, exposing a missing front tooth. “They're really good, Uncle Justin.”

“I'll bet they are.”

The boy turned to wave good-bye to his mother, but she had already disappeared back inside the Red Room. Greville's jaw tightened. It was obvious he was protective of the child.

Ariel suddenly wondered if the real reason he provided so well for his sister wasn't the financial considerations he'd expressed but because he was concerned for his nephew.

The earl lowered Thomas to his feet in front of the door to the kitchen and the child raced inside.

“He's a darling little boy,” Ariel said, remembering the sweet smile he had given her.

Greville dismissed the statement with a shrug. “All children are darling at that age.”

“I quite agree, but I'm surprised you think so. I imagined you would consider a child a burden.”

Something flickered in his eyes. She had the ridiculous notion it was hurt. “On the contrary,” he said. “I think children are a very precious gift.”

A gift? The answer was hardly what she would have expected. Dear Lord, would she ever understand this man, even a little? “Then you intend to have children of your own?” She shook her head at the absurdity of the question. “But of course you will. You'll need an heir, after all.”

Justin scoffed at the assumption. “I don't give a damn what happens to my father's bloody title. As for having children of my own … I am scarcely the sort for fatherhood.”

“Why not?”

“I wouldn't know the first thing about raising a child. I would probably do a worse job than my sister.”

Ariel didn't believe that for a moment, not after seeing him with the boy. She thought of Phillip and the little black boy and tried to convince herself it wasn't the same. If the child were his own, Phillip would be a wonderful father. But she couldn't really convince herself, and failing so miserably to do so, she opted for a change of subject.

“Is your sister always so…?”

“Self-centered and uncaring? Usually. If I didn't know better, I would think she was my mother's daughter, instead of Mary Ross's.”

Ariel didn't miss the implications of that. His mother and Barbara Townsend were a great deal alike, which meant his mother had also been selfish and uncaring. Since the woman had abandoned him, that was undoubtedly true.

“Your sister doesn't like me.”

“Barbara doesn't like anyone, especially me.”

“She doesn't like being in your debt. But then, neither do I.”

The earl cast her a sideways glance but made no reply. “Thomas is waiting,” he said instead. “Shall we go in?” He shoved open the swinging door that led into the warm, steamy interior of the kitchen, but Ariel shook her head.

“I think I'll forgo the cookie, if you don't mind.” Too much was happening. She didn't want any more glimpses of this new, even more disturbing side of the earl. “The trip was rather tiring. Perhaps I'll lie down for a while.”

He made a slight bow of his head. “As you wish.”

Ariel turned away and started for the stairs, seeking the safety of her bedchamber, determined to forget Justin Ross, at least for a while. But again and again, her mind returned to the tenderness in the earl's expression when he had held the child.

*   *   *

Phillip Marlin reread the note he'd received that morning and a satisfied smile lit his face. Damn. The chit had led him a merry chase, but it looked like that chase was about to end.

Dearest Phillip—

I must see you. Please meet me at the Pig and Rooster at ten o'clock tonight.

Your friend,

Ariel Summers

It wasn't exactly a romantic entreaty, but what the hell? The girl was sneaking out on Greville, risking the man's formidable wrath in order to see him. Once he got her alone upstairs at the inn, she would give him what she had been giving Greville, and he'd make sure she kept her mouth shut about it. He smirked to think what Justin would say when he found out Phillip had been tupping his little blond whore.

And sooner or later, Phillip would make sure he did.

The day seemed to drag. He was eager for the night ahead, eager to have Ariel naked beneath him. He grew hard just thinking about it. The girl was softly feminine, unconsciously seductive, and even Greville's lovemaking hadn't been able to erase the air of innocence Phillip found so attractive. He could hardly wait to spread her legs and plunge himself inside her.

He would leave the house at half past nine, giving himself plenty of time to spare. He needed to make arrangements for a room for the night and order a light supper for them to enjoy upstairs, along with a goodly amount of wine. He didn't intend to leave anything to chance—not this time.

Now that he knew the truth of Ariel's low birth and that she was undoubtedly Greville's whore, Phillip intended to have her. Tonight would be the first time, but it wouldn't be the last.

*   *   *

“So … how goes the hunt?” That from Clayton Harcourt, who lounged in the doorway of the dark, wood-paneled study of the Brook Street mansion.

Seated behind his wide mahogany desk, Justin merely grunted. “Not well, I'm afraid.”

Harcourt strolled over to the sideboard, poured himself a snifter of brandy, then flung himself casually down on the sofa in front of the hearth. “Are you telling me she isn't attracted to you?”

Justin sighed, shook his head, thinking of the last time they had been together. “I wouldn't exactly say that.” No, he would say what had happened between them was like tasting sweet fire. “Unfortunately, she is smart enough to realize that once she comes to my bed, her chances for any sort of respectable future are slim.”

Clay propped his shoulders on the end of the sofa, lazily swirling the liquid in the snifter. “If she wants a husband, after you grow tired of her you can always find her one.”

Justin hadn't thought of that. With his wealth, he could accomplish that end quite easily, simply by providing her with a large-enough dowry. It wasn't a bad idea and yet he found himself disturbed by the notion. “I'll give it some thought.”

“In the meantime, why don't the two of you join Teresa and me for the evening? We're going to Madison's. It's a gaming hell in Jermyn Street, very discreet. Teresa always enjoys it. Perhaps your Ariel will, too.”

He looked down at the pile of papers he had been studying. Some of them pertained to the textile industry; some involved shipping or other of his business interests. “I've a great deal yet to do.”

“You've got plenty of time. The evening doesn't begin until late. Besides, you can't woo the girl if you're never with her.”

“True.” Actually, he wasn't making much progress when he
was
with her. “All right, if Ariel agrees, we'll join you.” Clay gave him the address, which Justin scratched down on a piece of paper. As soon as his friend left the house, he sent for Ariel, who appeared in the doorway a few minutes later.

“You wished to see me, my lord?” She wore a rose silk day dress with bands of moss green velvet beneath the bosom and around the hem.

“You look very fetching in pink, Miss Summers.”

Her face flushed nearly that same soft shade. “Thank you, my lord.”

“A friend of mine, Clayton Harcourt, has invited us to join him and a friend for some gaming tonight. I thought you might enjoy it.”

For an instant, her face lit up. Then she blinked and her joyful expression disappeared. “I should like that, my lord, but I'm afraid I have a previous engagement.” Her eyes slid away from his, and there was something in her face that made him suddenly wary.

“And might I ask what it is?”

She moistened her lips, stared down at her feet, looked anyplace but directly at him. “I'm going to visit a friend, a … a classmate from school. She's an acquaintance of Kassandra's.”

“I see.” She was lying. She was particularly poor at doing so, a fact that made him a little less angry than he might have been.

“I'm sorry I won't be able to join you,” she said, for the first time sounding sincere. “I imagine it would have been fun.”

“Yes.… Indeed, I'm sure it will be. Which is why, the more I think on it, the more certain I am that you should go. Send your friend a note. Tell her your plans have changed.”

“But I couldn't possibly—”

“Oh, but you can.” He clenched his jaw. “May I remind you, until your part of our bargain is fulfilled—in whatever manner—you will do as I say. Now, you will send your regrets to your
friend,
and we will spend the evening together at Madison's.”

Ariel's lips thinned into an angry line. “As you wish, my lord.” She said nothing more, just turned and walked out of the room.

Justin clenched his fist where it lay on top of the papers on his desk. She had been lying—but why? Surely she wasn't meeting Marlin. Surely she wouldn't be that foolish. The second son of the Earl of Wilton was a dangerous man when it came to women, particularly those not under the protection of an aristocratic name. Justin had told Ariel as much, but he was afraid she hadn't believed him. There was every chance she would risk herself for Marlin, a fact that sent a violent stab of jealousy spearing through him.

It was an emotion so foreign that for a moment he didn't realize what it was. He hadn't been jealous since the days when he had been so foolishly infatuated with Margaret. He had never imagined experiencing the feeling again.

Justin set his jaw, working to rein in his temper. Whatever Ariel intended, she wouldn't be meeting Marlin tonight, nor any night in the foreseeable future. Beginning on the morrow, he would keep a tighter leash on her or, at the very least, instruct one of the footmen to keep watch over her to be certain that she was safe.

Justin thought of Ariel with Marlin, and a soft ache throbbed in his chest. He tried to convince himself she was smart enough to see the man for what he really was, that she would never be foolish enough to fall in love with him, but the ache in his chest refused to go away.

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