Heartless (22 page)

A thread of worry filtered through him. It was far too early for a simple social call. Their business meeting wasn't scheduled until tonight. Whatever Justin wanted had to be a matter of importance.

Clay turned to Elizabeth, whose hair was a tangle of thick dark curls, her clothes, the same ones she had worn last night, rumpled from a night left lying on the floor, and smiled. “Unless you wish to encounter my friend Lord Greville, I suggest you hie out the back way instead of the front. I'll tell the coachy to pick you up in the alley.”

Not that Justin would say a word even if he found her in Clay's early-morning company. It wasn't his friend's discretion he was worried about; it was the lady's sensibilities.

“Perhaps I'll see you later on in the week,” Elizabeth suggested, giving him a last quick kiss on the cheek. When Clay remained noncommittal and instead simply nodded, she hurried off toward the rear of the house, a slight pout turning her pretty lips down at the corners.

Justin rapped again and Clay opened the door. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. “I was saying farewell to a … friend.”

Justin cocked a brow as Clay strode past him down the front steps, gave his driver instructions to pick the lady up behind the house, then returned inside and closed the door.

“I thought we were meeting tonight,” he said to Justin, motioning for his friend to follow him down the hall. He wasn't exactly dressed for company, having dragged on the breeches he'd carelessly discarded beside the bed, his feet still bare, his wrinkled white shirt hanging open. But then Justin didn't look as if he noticed.

“Our meeting's still on,” Greville confirmed, looking a bit uncomfortable and even a little embarrassed. “This isn't business; it's personal. I was hoping for a bit of advice.”

“Ah, then it must have something to do with a woman.”

For the first time Justin noticed Clay's rumpled clothes. “One thing's for sure—you're an expert in that department. I hope this one was older than the last.”

Clay looked aghast. “I had no idea the girl was only sixteen. She looked more like five and twenty. Besides, she was hardly a virgin.” He grinned and pulled open the door to the breakfast parlor. “This one's a widow, if that eases your mind. A very lovely, very accommodating widow, if I may say so.”

Justin's mouth edged up. He followed Clay inside the sunny little room that looked over the garden behind the house, and they sat down at the polished oak table. The cook, a portly gray-haired woman who had worked for him for the last four years, appeared a few minutes later to prepare his morning meal. Since the footman had not yet returned, she poured them each a cup of coffee, then scuttled back inside the kitchen.

Clay tilted his chair back until it rested against the wall and casually sipped his coffee. “All right, what's so important it couldn't wait until tonight?”

“I'm thinking of getting married,” Justin blurted out, and Clay's chair slammed back to the floor.

“Married? You? I thought you'd sworn off marriage for life.”

“I had. Have.” He sighed. “I had until last night. But I've been thinking about it lately. Do you think it's possible for a man like me to marry and be happy?”

Clay studied him over the rim of his cup. “‘Happy' rarely enters into the married state,” he said, thinking of his poor dead mother and her unrequited love for his already-married father. “Mostly it's done for money or position. But if you're speaking of Ariel, perhaps it's possible. Why would you want to? Surely it's too soon for the girl to be
enceinte.
Is she playing the injured virgin? Demanding you do the right thing?”

“To tell you the truth, I don't think the notion of marriage has even occurred to her. I'm an earl, you see. Ariel is the daughter of a poor tenant farmer. On the surface, she plays the role of lady quite flawlessly, but inside, she still thinks of herself as the lowly peasant she was born.”

“She's become your mistress. That's what you wanted. Why not just go on as you are?”

Justin shook his head. “Because I find it isn't enough. I can't explain it, exactly. It's just that every time I look at her, I see the goodness inside her and I don't want to soil it. I want the light inside her to go on burning as brightly as it does right now.”

Justin's long fingers curled around the handle of his coffee cup, but he didn't take a drink. “I know the risk she'll be taking. God knows I'll probably make a terrible husband. But at least she'd be able to hold her head up when she walks down the street. I can't love her as another man might—I wouldn't have the slightest notion how—but I can give her something else. Something far more practical. Marriage to me would bring her respectability. I can make her the lady she has always wanted to be.”

Clay said nothing to that. Would marrying Ariel Summers be the right thing for his friend to do? Justin might not think he would be able to love her, but Clay believed he was more than half in love with the girl already.

“If we continue as we are,” Justin went on, “there's every chance, sooner or later, there's going to be children. They'll be bastards, Clay. I don't think Ariel has any idea what that means, but I do.” His gaze fixed on Clay. “We both know only too well.”

That was the truth. And it occurred to Clay, if Justin cared for the woman half as much as he seemed to, sparing her and his children the pain he and Justin had suffered would be reason enough for him to marry her.

“I don't think you need my advice,” Clay finally said. “I think you've already decided.” He smiled and stretched out a hand. “Congratulations, my friend.”

Justin accepted the handshake and flashed him the bright sort of smile Clay had rarely seen. It was filled with relief and what looked to Clay a good deal like joy.

Justin shoved to his feet. “I'd better go. I've got a number of things to do. I want everything to be perfect when I ask her.”

“I'll see you tonight at the club,” Clay said, waving as Justin strode to the door.

“I'll be there,” Justin called back to him. There was a lightness in his voice that hadn't been there when he had come in, and Clay smiled. Justin deserved a little happiness. God knew he hadn't had much of it in his life so far. Clay just hoped Ariel Summers was the woman Justin believed she was.

He clenched his jaw hard. God help her if she wasn't.

*   *   *

The clerk at Sanborn and Sons, Purveyor of Fine Custom Jewelry, in Ludgate Hill, stood behind the counter, surveying the well-dressed gentleman who had just walked in, a wealthy nob of the very first water, by the look of his expensive dove gray tailcoat and the ruby ring glinting on his finger. Quite likely, a member of the nobility.

The clerk, a man in his forties with a broad nose and receding chin, hurried forward. “Good afternoon, my lord. Might I be of help with something?”

“A friend recommended your shop. He said you had a reputation for honesty and that you sold gems of the highest quality.”

He smiled, pleased at the words, which were undoubtedly true. “My family's been in business for over fifty years.”

“I'm looking for a ring,” the man said. He bent to study the contents in the case, his straight black brows drawing together. “Sapphires would be best, I think, to match the lady's eyes, and diamonds of course. Something elegant but not garish. Something appropriate for a wedding ring.”

The clerk fairly beamed. Most of the
ton
were content to gift their brides with an ancestral ring, perhaps one worn by their mothers. This man apparently wanted something personal, a ring of his own choosing.

“We can design whatever you wish, of course, but if you'll give me just a moment, I have several rings in the back. One of them might do very nicely.” The ring he had in mind was fashioned of perfectly cut sapphires surrounded by flawless diamonds. Large enough to please the most discriminating lady, yet subtle, not the least bit garish.

He hurried to the rear of the shop and returned with three of the shop's most expensive pieces, setting them down on a black velvet cloth beneath an overhanging lamp that showed off their brilliance to the best advantage.

As the gentleman lifted and examined each one, the clerk studied his face. He was a handsome man, tall and broad-shouldered, yet somehow forbidding. The jewelry in the shop was fashioned of the highest quality, and the clerk was glad. It was clear the man had a very discerning eye, and it was equally clear that it would not be wise to displease him.

He picked up the last ring on the cloth and examined it closely, an array of emotions swirling in his cool gray eyes, each one more difficult to read than the last. Nervousness, love, desire? There was one thing that couldn't be mistaken. It was hope, and it made the clerk smile.

Once in a while, the job he did with such care and dedication was rewarded by a man who was so inspired.

“I'll take this one.” He held up the exquisite circle of perfectly faceted stones.

“Excellent choice, my lord. It is exactly the ring I would have chosen.” He carried the other rings back to the rear of the shop and returned with a small velvet box lined with white satin. When the payment was settled, he placed the ring in the box and handed it over. “I wish you felicitations on your upcoming nuptials, my lord.”

“Thank you.” The tall man smiled as he slipped the box into the inside pocket of his perfectly tailored coat, turned, and strode out of the shop.

The clerk watched him leave, thinking that his steps seemed lighter than they had been when he'd entered the store.

Then again, perhaps it was only his imagination.

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

Darkness fell. A mist rolled in from the north, shrouding the city in a ghostly blanket of gray. Standing in the Red Room, Ariel stared out the window into the thickening blackness, her mind on her upcoming meeting with Phillip.

“Ariel?” Justin's voice, coming from a few feet away, snapped her attention in his direction.

“Yes, my lord?”

He was preparing to leave for his meeting with Clayton Harcourt, giving her the chance to clear things up with Phillip as she should have done before.

“You seem distracted this evening. Is something wrong?”

Her heart lurched. “N-no, my lord, of course not.” She forced herself to smile. “I've a bit of a headache is all. I think I shall go to bed early.”

“Perhaps if you are ill, I should cancel my meeting and stay home with you.”

“No! I mean, don't be silly. I'll be fine by the time you get back.”

He studied her face a moment, and she prayed he wouldn't notice how nervous she was. Finally, he nodded. “All right, then. I suppose it's time I was off.”

Ariel kissed him dutifully, followed him into the entry where Knowles draped a cloak over his shoulders, watched him go out through the heavy oak door, and gave up a sigh of relief.

Then she glanced at the ornate grandfather clock, thought of her meeting with Phillip, and her nervousness returned full measure. With a sigh, she made her way upstairs. Time seemed to drag and she found herself pacing in front of the window, waiting for the hour of her scheduled assignation. She wasn't looking forward to it, and yet in a way she was.

Her life was moving forward. Justin's solicitor, Mr. Whipple, still hadn't discovered exactly the right property for her to move into, but she was certain he would very soon. In the meantime, Justin came to her bed each night and they made wild, passionate love. He stayed till nearly dawn, Ariel curled peacefully in his arms, and left with what seemed a great deal of reluctance.

He was coming to care for her more each day, she believed. She didn't want problems with Phillip to come between them.

Standing at the bedchamber window, Ariel stared into the darkness, watching the swirling gray mist settle over the narrow walkways, weighing the words she would say. She would tell Phillip very plainly that she wasn't in love with him. In truth, she now knew, she never had been. Whatever feelings Phillip might hold for her, they were simply not returned.

She wanted him out of her life, wanted the threat he posed to her happiness over and done.

She glanced at the clock on the mantel. Five minutes to ten. Time for her to leave. Grabbing her warm blue woolen shawl off the bed, she wrapped it around her shoulders, headed out the door and down the servants' stairs. Most of the staff had retired to their quarters. Ariel quietly made her way outside and hurried along the stone walkway to the stable at the rear of the house.

It was shadowy and dim inside, lit by the glow of a single lantern. The place smelled of liniment and manure, freshly oiled leather, and newly cut hay. She made her way deeper into the interior, heard the soft luffing of the horses, the sound of hooves clicking lightly against the stone floor. She checked to be sure none of the grooms were about and continued searching the shadows for Phillip.

“Ariel…” He called her name softly, stepping out of the darkness of an empty stall. “I'm glad you came. I was afraid you'd disappoint me again.”

She approached where he stood, stopped a few feet away. “I never meant to disappoint you, Phillip. Sometimes things just happen.”

He moved closer. She could smell his fragrant cologne, see the golden glint of his hair. He reached out to her, cupped her cheek in his hand. “Do you know how much I've missed you? How badly I've wanted to see you?”

Ariel turned away from him, feeling a thread of guilt. “I need to tell you something. I thought … hoped when you read my note, you'd understand.”

In the light of the lantern, she saw the muscles in his jaw go hard. “Understand what? That Greville has seduced you? That he has deceived you and tricked you into his bed? Do you think I'm a fool, Ariel? Did you think I wouldn't guess?”