Heartless (21 page)

Justin returned the smile, and it occurred to her that there seemed to be more of them lately. Perhaps Clayton Harcourt had been right. Perhaps she
could
teach Justin to love.

Ariel fervently hoped so.

She loved him a little more each day. The thought of failing to win his love in return made a painful band tighten around her heart.

C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN

All in all, it was a memorable birthday. Aside from an embarrassing encounter with the Earl of Foxmoor, one of Justin's business acquaintances who was there with his wife and daughter, Ariel loved the charming little town and the wonderful hours she spent with Justin. She found herself hating to leave, knowing the problems she would face once they returned to London.

Unfortunately, the trouble surfaced even sooner than that, in the carriage on the way, the moment they reached the outskirts of the city. Sitting on the seat across from her, the closer they got to home, the more Justin's manner had subtly shifted, changing from the easy, relaxed person he had become in Tunbridge Wells to the darker, more brooding man he had been before they'd left London.

“We'll be home soon,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “Tomorrow I shall contact my solicitor and have him begin a search for properties that might provide a suitable place for you to live. It may take a while, but eventually I'm sure we can find something of which you'll approve.”

The breath refused to leave Ariel's chest. She had dreaded this moment. While they were away, she'd been able to forget it. Now it was here and she could no longer avoid the confrontation.

“I realize … after what has transpired between us, it is no longer suitable for me to remain in your house. But I … I was hoping you would help me find a place that I can afford on my own. It wouldn't have to be anything fancy. A small flat would suffice. Since my debt to you is not yet wholly repaid, I could work in my spare time for you and the rest of the time in whatever position you are able to secure for me.”

Justin's hard gaze fixed on her face and a muscle ticked in his cheek. “What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about finding employment. We are both agreed that our … relationship has made it impossible for me to stay in your home. Since that is the case, I'll need some sort of income. You promised to help me in that regard. All I'm asking is that you do as you've agreed.”

“What you're proposing makes no sense. I'm the man who has taken your innocence. That makes you my responsibility. Since I have more than enough money to provide for you, there is no need for you to labor like a common peasant.”

“I am a common peasant,” she said softly.

Justin made a rude sound in his throat. “You're a lady. You've made yourself one by hard work and perseverance. I won't let you throw that away.”

Ariel shook her head, fighting the sudden burn of tears. “You don't understand.”

“You're young yet. You haven't any experience with this sort of thing. Perhaps it is you who doesn't understand.”

She bit down on her bottom lip, trying to stop it from trembling. “You saw the way they looked at me; I know you did. You pretended not to, but you did. Lord Foxmoor's wife barely spoke and wouldn't have done so at all if her husband hadn't forced her. I know what she was thinking—what all of them were thinking. I could see it in their eyes. They were calling me your whore.”

“Ariel … love—”

“It's true and you know it. If I let you pay my rent, if I let you buy me jewelry and continue to keep me in expensive clothes, I'll deserve the names they call me.”

He straightened on the seat, his head nearly touching the roof of the carriage. “You knew, the night you came to my room, what you were choosing.”

Ariel blinked back tears and glanced away. “I was choosing you, Justin. I wanted you to make love to me, but I thought my life would still be my own.”

The stiffness went out of his shoulders. Justin moved to sit beside her and gathered her into his arms. “You have always been a practical young woman, Ariel, have you not?”

“I suppose I have.”

“When you were fourteen, you knew you wanted more from life than what you would find on your father's small farm. You found a way to make that happen.”

“It was the only choice I had.”

“You were being practical, finding a solution to your problem. Be practical now. Let me take care of you.”

It sounded so simple, so easy. Just let him look after her as he had done before. It bothered her to imagine becoming even more dependent upon him, but perhaps it would give her the time she needed. She wanted the chance to teach him to love. The more she was with him, the more of a chance she had.

“I realize this isn't turning out exactly the way you planned,” he said gently, “but have you considered what would happen if there were a child?”

Her wandering thoughts slammed sharply into focus. “A child?”

“You know there is that possibility.”

“Well, yes, of course … I know what we did could … could result in a child, but surely it takes longer than just a few days.”

“It can happen in only a few minutes.” He reached up and touched her cheek. “There is, in fact, the possibility even now that you carry my babe.”

Unconsciously her hand came to rest on her stomach. It was flat and firm beneath her russet traveling dress, but according to Justin that could change. Would it be so terrible if it did? She thought of little Thomas with his dark complexion and big gray eyes. Such a darling little boy. Justin's son would surely look much the same.

She turned to look up at him. “I wouldn't mind having your child, Justin. In fact, I think I would like that very much.”

His expression slowly altered and something turbulent flashed in his eyes. His gaze turned dark and enigmatic as he studied her face; then he looked away, focusing his attention on the landscape outside the window. Several seconds passed. When he looked at her again, his expression was as inscrutable as it usually was.

“At any rate,” he said, “as I said before, it will take a while to find something suitable. Perhaps by then, you will have grown more comfortable with the notion.”

“Perhaps,” Ariel said noncommittally, resting her head against his shoulder.

She didn't want to be Justin's kept woman, but she loved him, and perhaps, as he had said, she had made that choice when she asked him to make love to her. Would being his mistress really be so terrible? At least they would be together. She wouldn't have to worry about money or finding suitable employment. And there was Justin himself to consider. She loved him. She wanted to make him happy. She wanted to help him banish the darkness that seemed to surround him like a heavy black cloak. Loving him was the answer. And teaching him to love her in return.

She would do it, she vowed. Her decision was made. In time, things would all work out.

She ignored the soft pang of loss she felt in the area around her heart.

*   *   *

Justin paced in front of the fire in his hearth. It was dark outside. Soon the servants would retire and he would go to her. They would make love in her deep feather bed and he would sleep with her nestled beside him until dawn threatened and he was forced to return to his empty room.

He should be happy with the way things had worked out, delirious that his seduction had been accomplished so well. Though Ariel hadn't yet accepted his protection in so many words, her protests had gradually faded. It was only a matter of time before she acquiesced to his wishes and he had exactly what he wanted.

What he had been after from the start.

Justin swore softly. He could still see her face as she had left the carriage, a little paler than it should have been, no longer radiant as it was before but filled with uncertainty and a hint of resignation. He hadn't missed the faint shimmer of tears.

What sort of woman would cry because a man wished to provide for her? Because he wanted to take care of her, to protect her and see she had some measure of security for the future?

God's blood, didn't she understand he was trying to do what was best for her? He had to admit, being the selfish bastard he was, he was also doing what was best for him.

Justin raked a hand through his hair, shoving it back from his forehead. Dammit, he wanted to be with her. He wanted to make love to her, wanted to laugh with her as he had done in Tunbridge Wells.

“God spare me the unfathomable mind of a woman,” he grumbled, wishing there was another way to handle the situation, one that would erase the haunted look from her eyes.

As Ariel had guessed, he hadn't missed the smug, knowing smiles in Tunbridge Wells, the disdainful glances, the whispered words. It was simply to be expected, he'd told himself, but it bothered him just the same. Apparently, Ariel hadn't been ignorant of the snide innuendos any more than he was.

He sighed as he knelt to freshen the fire, wanting her already, wishing the hours would pass so that he could be with her. Wishing things could remain as they had been in the cozy house in Tunbridge Wells.

Knowing, as long as he was the man he was, they never could be.

*   *   *

A week passed, slid into the next. Ariel studied numbers in the column on the page in front of her, information on the project Clayton Harcourt had left for Justin before they had gone to Tunbridge Wells, a proposal to purchase the controlling interest in a Northumberland coal mine.

From the figures she studied, it appeared Clay had been right. The profits, should the mine live up to projections, would be enormous. Justin had gone along with his friend's proposal, putting in an offer, though he had refused to close the transaction as quickly as Clay had wished. Justin was far more patient than his impulsive friend, and he'd wanted to wait until Ariel had completed her own projections and confirmed that the numbers Clay had received were correct.

As far as she could discern, the investment would be a good one.

Ariel set the quill pen back in its holder and leaned back in the oak chair she sat in behind her desk in the study. She was proud of the work she had done and pleased to know how much Justin had come to rely on her.

She stretched a little on the hard wooden chair; then a knock at the door interrupted her. Ariel looked up to see Silvie hurrying toward her. She seemed nervous, her eyes darting around, and the feeling instantly transmitted itself to Ariel.

“What is it, Silvie?” Sliding back her chair, Ariel came to her feet and rounded the desk.

Silvie glanced over her shoulder as if she feared someone might see them, then stuck out her hand. “Another message came for you through the servants' entrance. Mrs. Willis, the cook, brought it to me straightaway.”

Ariel accepted the wax-sealed message, uneasy with the thought that it had surely come from Phillip. “Thank you, Silvie.” Turning away, she unfolded the paper and scanned the contents, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

My darling Ariel,

The days pass, but my worry for you will not end. You have told me you feel only friendship for me, yet my heart refuses to believe it. I must see you. As you undoubtedly know, tonight is Greville's weekly business meeting with his friend, Clayton Harcourt. Since you have refused to come to me, I shall come to you. Meet me in the stable behind the house at ten o'clock. Please, I beg you, for your sake as well as my own, do not disappoint me.

Ever your friend,

Phillip

Dear God in heaven, Phillip sounded almost desperate, and it was all her fault. She should have been more candid, should have come right out and told him she had fallen in love with the earl. Instead, she had tried to spare his feelings and in doing so only made matters worse.

She wasn't sure how Phillip knew about Justin's weekly meeting with Harcourt, but it was a ritual he rarely missed. They usually met at their club in St. James's, and Justin never returned until well after midnight.

Justin would be gone, and perhaps it was for the best. She could set matters to rest with Phillip once and for all.

“Do you wish me to carry a reply?” Silvie asked, jerking Ariel's gaze in the dark-haired girl's direction. Lost in thought, she had completely forgotten her maid was still in the room.

“Yes, all right. Perhaps that would be best.” Sitting back down at the desk, she quickly penned a reply, telling Phillip she would meet him as he wished. She sealed it with a drop of wax and handed it to her maid.

“I'll see he gets it straightaway.”

“Thank you, Silvie.” She watched the girl disappear out into the hall and wondered what she was thinking. Ariel hoped she didn't believe there was any sort of illicit relationship going on between her and Phillip. She'd considered simply explaining, but it wasn't really any of Silvie's business, and she wasn't sure exactly what to say. Hopefully, after tonight, the problem would be solved and it would no longer matter.

Ariel sighed, wishing she didn't have to hurt Phillip again, trying not to worry about what she should say. Determined to put their upcoming encounter out of her mind, she sat back down at the desk and continued with her work.

*   *   *

A warm early-morning sun cast rosy light through the stained-glass windows in Clayton Harcourt's town house. He kissed the voluptuous young woman he had escorted downstairs and now stood ready to depart.

Reaching down, he lightly patted her bottom. “Be a good girl now, Lizzy, and go home. You damned near killed me last night. Another few rounds like that and I might not recover.”

Elizabeth Watkins, recently widowed Countess of May, laughed delightedly. “You've the stamina of a bull, Clayton Harcourt. I believe you've simply grown tired of me.”

“Who could ever grow tired of you, sweeting? You've breasts like ripe melons, a mouth like a velvet glove, and a—” A knock at the door ended the rest of his ribald remark. Since he had dismissed his butler and most of the other servants to ensure a night of privacy, he gazed through the peephole himself. To his surprise, he saw his friend Justin Ross standing next to the lion's head statue on his porch.