Heartless (29 page)

Slipping quietly into the room, careful not to wake her, he sat down in a chair at the side of the bed. She slept fitfully and seemed to be suffering unpleasant dreams. Whenever she began to thrash about, Justin reached over and took her hand. Each time he did, her movements stilled and she drifted back into quiet slumber.

She slept through the day, into the evening, and late into the night. He told himself he would leave before she awakened, before she had time to realize he was there, but just before dawn he fell asleep. He dreamed of Ariel, and in his dreams she smiled at him the way she had in Tunbridge Wells.

*   *   *

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, slanting into Ariel's eyes. She blinked several times against the brightness behind her closed lids, then finally cracked them open. The smell of lilacs drifted up from her hair. A clean white pillowcase nestled against her cheek, and a soft cotton night rail fell lightly down over her knees.

For an instant, she thought she was dreaming, that she was yet in Newgate, that when she awakened she would still be breathing the fetid air, still be tortured by the keening of the women.

Then she remembered Justin. That he had come for her and that she was once again in his house. She started to sit up, saw his tall frame cramped uncomfortably into a chair beside the bed, his eyes closed, his long tapered fingers gently holding onto her hand.

A painful swell of emotion tightened deep in her chest. For an instant, Ariel couldn't breathe. Justin had come for her. He had saved her from a fate she couldn't bear to imagine. How could that be?

Easing her hand from his, she slowly swung her legs to the side of the bed, wincing a little at the stiffness. For a moment she simply sat there watching him. Though his breathing was deep and even, he looked nearly as tired as she, the skin beneath his eyes faintly smudged, thin lines etched into his forehead. And yet in his features, there was a boyishness she had noticed before, a softness that appeared only in sleep. His hair was mussed, a dark lock hanging over his forehead. Thick black lashes formed crescents against his lean cheeks.

He stirred then, slowly opened his eyes, sat up abruptly in his chair. “Ariel … I'm sorry. I must have dozed off.”

“Yes.… Apparently you did.”

Those dark gray eyes found hers, and instead of the reserve they usually held there was an unmistakable look of concern. “How are you feeling?”

She thought about the awful days and nights she had spent in prison and felt the sting of tears. “It was terrible. The filth and the foul odors. The way they treated the women.” Her throat hurt. “As long as I live I shall never forget it.”

“It's my fault. I should have made you leave the house. I wanted to. I—”

“It's Horwick's fault. He is the one who should be locked away.” She looked up at him, saw the remorse that still haunted him, and something loosened inside her. “I am much better now that I have rested,” she said softly. “How did you know I was there?”

Some of the tension eased from his face. “I went to see you. The butler said you were no longer employed there. When I tried to find out where you had gone, Mrs. O'Grady appeared. She told me what had happened.”

Mrs. O'Grady.
Such a dear, sweet lady, and the only one with the courage to stand up for her against Lord Horwick. That thought struck an awful chord. “Horwick—oh, my God! When he discovers what you've done, he'll come after me. I'll have to go back to prison. I'll have to—”

“You won't have to go back to prison. Not ever. I promise you that. And I'll take care of Horwick.”

“But how did you get me out of there? The earl has accused me of trying to murder him. I wouldn't do something like that. I hit him over the head with a vase, but only to keep him away from me, and he more than had it coming.”

His mouth edged up. “I'm sure he did. At any rate, you were released into my custody. As soon as I speak to Horwick, the matter will be ended.”

“But how can you be sure? Perhaps he won't agree. Perhaps—”

An icy look came into those steel gray eyes, a look Ariel remembered only too clearly.

“Leave Horwick to me,” Justin said with a deadly calm that left no doubt the man would relent or pay the price. Ariel shivered.

Justin rose from his chair, unfolding his tall frame to its very impressive height. “I'll tell Silvie you are awake and in need of her assistance.”

“Thank you.”

He crossed the room without looking back and Ariel watched him go, her thoughts in turmoil. She was back where she had started—living in Greville's house, indebted to him once more. She had no money, no one to turn to. Even the money she had earned at Lord Horwick's was lost to her, hidden beneath the pillow upstairs in her bedchamber and no way to retrieve it. It wasn't fair. It simply wasn't!

She sighed and got up from the bed, trying to think what to do. She had a very expensive education, yet what good had it done her? She had worked to make her own way and failed miserably. Instead, she had lost her money, been thrown into gaol, and wound up once more under the earl's control.

But she was no longer the naive young girl she had been. She knew the sort of man Justin was. He did nothing that wasn't to his own benefit. What price would he try to extract from her this time?

Ariel suppressed an icy shiver.

*   *   *

Sitting behind the desk in his study, Justin read the column in the
London Chronicle
for the second time that morning and uttered a curse. With the servants having witnessed the incident at Horwick's and Ariel's subsequent arrest, he should have known an article would eventually appear in the papers. Though only their initials were used and Ariel's name was the only one clearly stated, it was fairly obvious which members of the aristocracy were involved and it wouldn't take long for speculation to spread through the
ton.

Damn, he'd thought he could keep the matter quiet. He should have known better. Except in his business dealings, he was rarely ever lucky. He was rubbing his tired eyes, wishing things could be different, when the door slammed open and Clay walked in, waving a copy of the paper.

“Have you seen this?”

“I've seen it. One of old Horwick's servants must have wanted to earn a little extra money.”

“I imagine so. Horwick and Greville, two of London's most notable aristocrats, in a scandal involving sex, attempted murder, and a beautiful, mysterious woman. It was simply more than a man could resist.”

“I'm sure it brought him a tidy sum,” Justin said sourly.

Clay tapped the paper. “It says here that Ariel was Lord H.'s mistress. It says he caught her trying to steal his money and that was the reason she hit him. Apparently they think you—Lord G.—met her at Horwick's and took a fancy to her. That is the reason you decided to help her.” Clay slapped the paper down on the desk. “What're you going to do?”

“I spoke to Horwick yesterday. He's already agreed to drop the charges.”

Clay grinned. “I imagine you made it fairly clear what would happen to him if he didn't.”

Justin's mouth edged up. “Fairly clear.”

“What about Ariel? If she wasn't ruined before, she certainly is now. What do you intend to do about that?”

“Get her out of here. Silvie is packing her things as we speak. We'll be leaving for Greville Hall within the hour.”

The door slammed open for the second time in only a very few minutes and this time Ariel stormed in. In the two days since her departure from Newgate, with the bed rest he had decreed and half his staff pampering her, she appeared to be fully recovered. Her skin glowed and her blond hair shone with silver lights. It was hard to believe she was the same dirty urchin he had carried home from the prison.

There was fire in her eyes today. She eyed him angrily, her slender hands clamped on her hips. “I demand to know what is going on. Silvie says you told her to pack my things. She's says you're taking me out of London. I realize I am again in your debt for helping me with … with my problems with Lord Horwick, but that doesn't give you the right to make decisions that concern my life. If you wish to leave the city, you may do so, but I am not going with you. I made my own way before; I can certainly do so again. In fact, I would prefer to be on my own.”

Justin didn't point out the little success she'd had on her last attempt. He simply reached for the paper Clay had laid on the desk and handed it over. “Fourth column down,” he said.

With an uncertain glance, Ariel unfolded the paper and began to read. She quickly skimmed the article, then read it again more slowly, the rose in her complexion slowly fading to pale. “This isn't true. Not a single word of it.”

Justin eased the paper from her trembling fingers. “I want you away from the gossip. At Greville Hall, you'll be safe from wagging tongues. It's quiet there. You'll have time to decide what you wish to do with your future.”

“But your sister is in residence. She'll be furious if we intrude.”

“I have already sent word of our arrival. Besides, the house is mine, not hers. Barbara lives there because I allow it. If I wish to stay for a week—if I decide to stay for a year—it is none of her concern.”

Big blue eyes locked on his face. “I am also living by your charity. What sort of payment do you expect from me?”

Justin glanced away, guilty and uncomfortable at the accusation in her face. What he wanted from her was the warmth of her smile. What he wanted was the sound of her laughter, to hear her softly sighing his name. He expected none of those things.

“You will go there as my guest, nothing more. I want only to be certain of your safety.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care about you, dammit! Is that so terribly hard to believe?”

Ariel looked stunned. Justin stared at her, feeling a mixture of anger and some other, more turbulent emotion he couldn't name.

A few feet away, Clay muttered something, then cleared his throat. “I don't want to keep you from your journey. You've a distance to cover before you reach Greville Hall.” To Ariel he said gently, “Sometimes in life we overlook the obvious. Go with him, love. In time, things will all work out.”

Ariel said nothing for several long moments; then she nodded.

Justin felt a wave of relief. “I've a few things to finish before we leave,” he said. “I'll meet you in the entry at half past the hour.”

Wordlessly turning away, Ariel walked out of the room and quietly closed the door.

“I'll keep an eye on things here,” Clay offered. “If there's anything you need, just let me know.”

Justin's mouth curved up in a grateful smile. “Thank you, Clay. For everything.” He was lucky to have a friend like Clay. Justin watched him leave the study, then turned to finish the paperwork on his desk. Try as he might, he couldn't concentrate, and the lines on the pages seemed to blur. Setting the files away, he pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk. At the very back, a small velvet box lay on its side, tossed away as if it were of no more value than a crumpled piece of paper. He drew the box out and flipped open the lid. Nestled in a bed of white satin, perfectly fashioned sapphires burned brilliantly up at him. Surrounding them, the icy white of the diamonds glinted in cold accusation.

From the moment he had read her first letter he had only meant to help her. Instead, he had done nothing but hurt her. He had taken her innocence, used her, and betrayed her. He scoffed as he stared at the stones glinting at him from their satin-lined box. Marrying her would have been the cruelest betrayal of all.

Justin lifted the beautiful ring from its perch and rested it in his palm, surveying each brightly cut gem, wishing he could have given Ariel the perfect, bright life symbolized by the ring.

But he couldn't give her that. There was no brightness in him, only darkness. Ariel had been the light, the luster, the fire. Somehow he had managed to dim even that.

His fingers tightened around the magnificent sapphires until the stones bit cruelly into his palm. His hand squeezed into a fist and the sapphires cut into his flesh with a burning sting, but he didn't stop, didn't try to lessen the pain.

Not until he felt the sticky wetness of his own blood, running between his fingers.

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

Clay caught up with Ariel just as she reached the staircase. “Miss Summers? Ariel…?”

She stopped and turned, her worried gaze flying to his. He couldn't miss the turmoil that darkened the blue of her eyes. “I have to get ready. There isn't much time.”

“I know. I just … I realize you are upset. I know this has been a terrible experience for you, but it has also been a very bad time for Justin.”

The curve of her lips flattened out. “Bad? Bad in what way? Surely you aren't going to stand there and tell me he was lonely? I imagine he had any number of women to keep him company after I was gone. I doubt either one of you has trouble finding willing female companions.”

“No, there has never been a shortage of women for either one of us.” She turned and started walking, but Clay caught her arm. “Justin isn't interested in other women. He hasn't been since the day he met you. Don't you see? It's you he cares about.”

She looked away, glanced down at the floor, studied the swirls in the marble. “It doesn't matter. I'm not interested in a man who doesn't trust me, who believes that I would be unfaithful.”

“Perhaps if you knew him better you might understand. Did Justin ever tell you about Margaret?”

“Margaret? Was that his mother's name?”

“Margaret was the young woman Justin had the misfortune of falling in love with. It was a long time ago, of course. When we were away at school and both of us were younger. Margaret was beautiful and headstrong, and she told him that she loved him. For the first time in years, he allowed his emotions to surface. He believed that in time they would marry. Instead he caught her in bed with Phillip Marlin.”