Heartless (34 page)

She studied him a moment, then made a brief nod of her head. Justin stepped into the hallway and instructed the butler to summon Silvie and deliver the message that Lady Kassandra had arrived downstairs, then returned to the drawing room.

He walked into a stony silence, Clay standing stiffly, Kitt's chin thrust forward at a belligerent angle.

“I've been remiss in my duties as host,” Justin said blandly, taking in the hostile stance of his two fractious guests and wondering at the cause. “Introductions are certainly in order. Lady Kassandra, may I present my good friend—”

“There is no need for introductions,” she said coolly. “Mr. Harcourt and I have already met.”

Justin arched a brow. “Is that so?” Interesting that Clay hadn't mentioned it.

Kassandra flicked a disapproving glance in his friend's direction. “Mr. Harcourt was invited to supper at our town house last Tuesday night.” She granted him a condescending smile. “Later I discovered that my father was actually entertaining the idea of a match between us. I put an end to the ridiculous notion, of course.”

“Did you?” Clay drawled, a dangerous look on his face. “That isn't the impression I got. Particularly not when
my
errant sire, His Grace, the Duke of Rathmore, has mentioned on no few occasions how fortunate I would be should I agree to take you off your father's hands.”

Kassandra whirled to face him. “What?”

“The duke and the viscount seem to see it as a business merger, since they are in bed together in a number of financial matters.”

“You're lying.”

“Actually, there are several other advantages as well. Now that he has remarried, your father wishes to be rid of his spoiled, ill-tempered youngest daughter, while mine sees it as an opportunity to redeem his worthless son.”

The room went still, except for the sound of Kassandra's rapid breathing.
Worthless,
Clay had called himself. Hardly the word for Clay, Justin thought, though that was the impression his friend was determined to give, especially to his father, who, like Justin's own late sire, refused to legitimize his eldest son's birth. With Justin's help, Clay had turned the duke's substantial allowance and the money he earned gaming into a tidy fortune he refused to tell anyone about.

Justin's gaze settled on the girl. She was angry, her lips pressed into a narrow line, but there was hurt in her eyes as well, as if she recognized the truth of Clay's words.

Neither of them spoke. Clay's jaw was set and Kitt scowled.

Then the door slid open and Ariel burst into the room. She smiled with delight when she spotted her friend, who laughed joyously and rushed toward her with open arms.

The two girls hugged, both of them grinning, wiping away happy tears. “I am so very glad to see you,” Ariel said. “However did you know where to find me?”

Kassandra repeated the tale Clay had told him, leaving out the part about bullying poor Knowles, and apparently Barbara, as well.

“I presume you've met my husband,” Ariel said, not quite meeting his eyes.

Kassandra nodded a little bit stiffly. “Yes.”

“And Mr. Harcourt?”

The girl's dark look returned. “We were previously acquainted.”

Ariel caught Clay's fierce glance, and Justin could see her mind begin to turn, assessing the hostility between the pair. Ignoring Clay's scowl and Kitt's disdain, she reached out and caught her friend's hand.

“Gentlemen, if you don't mind, perhaps you'll excuse us. We haven't seen each other for quite some time. We've a good deal of catching up to do.”

Both men acquiesced with a polite bow, though Justin noticed Clay's jaw still looked tight.

Ariel gave Justin a hesitant smile, then smiled warmly at Kassandra. “I'm dying to hear all about Italy,” she was saying as she led the girl toward the door.

Kitt tossed a last probing glance at Justin. “And I imagine you have a great deal to tell me, as well.”

Justin imagined that she did. He wondered what Kassandra Wentworth would think of the man responsible for sending her best friend to prison.

Ariel sat across from Kassandra in a small, sun-warmed drawing room that overlooked the garden, a favorite, Perkins had told her, of the former Lady Greville. Mary Ross had locked herself away in the charming salon, perhaps, Ariel thought, as a refuge from her husband, a man who openly flaunted his affairs with younger women.

Done in soft shades of yellow and cream, the room was less elaborately furnished than the rest of the house and seldom used by the family, yet its cozy elegance made it Ariel's favorite, too.

“Well, the man is certainly handsome enough,” Kitt said, making herself comfortable on the sofa in front of the fire. “From what I had heard of him, I imagined the Earl of Greville to be some sort of ogre.”

Ariel's hand shook on the porcelain teapot she held, a sudden memory surfacing of Justin the morning he had sent her away. Was he the caring man he often seemed or the heartless man who had used her and cast her aside without the slightest qualm?

She took a firmer grip on the handle of the pot and finished pouring the tea. “Justin has suffered a difficult past. He has taught himself to be hard in order to survive, but I have seen his gentler nature.” She set the teapot back down on the serving cart. “He isn't an easy person to understand. Even I am not completely certain the sort of man he truly is.”

“Then why on earth did you marry him?”

Ariel shook her head, wondering how she could possibly explain, not completely certain herself. She took a seat next to Kitt and began to tell her all that had happened, watching her best friend's eyes go wider with every word.

“I know the risk I'm taking. But I love him, Kitt, and I don't believe I could ever love the kind of man he sometimes appears to be.”

Ariel went on with her story, telling her friend everything that had happened since Kassandra had left for Italy, including her encounter with Horwick, her terrible days in Newgate, and Justin's heroic rescue.

“He came for me, Kitt. I don't know what would have happened to me if he hadn't.”

“I only wish I had been here. You could have come to me in the beginning and none of this would have occurred.”

“Perhaps. Then again, perhaps it was simply a matter of fate. I'm Justin's wife. I can't say I am sorry.” Not sorry. Not yet. Just terribly, dreadfully afraid.

“You say that you're in love with him. Is he also in love with you?”

Ariel stared down at the cup and saucer resting in her lap. “No.” She didn't realize the objects tilted at a precarious angle until Kitt reached over and gently righted them, picked them up, and carefully set them down on the table in front of her.

“Perhaps you're wrong,” she said softly. “If Greville doesn't love you, why did he marry you? You have no fortune, no title. There is nothing for him to gain.”

Ariel looked up. Phillip had said that Justin never did anything unless he had something to gain. “He needed an heir. I suppose that is the reason.”

“The man is unbearably handsome—and rich as Croesus, from what my father has said. There are countless women who would be more than happy to marry him and give him a child.”

Ariel sighed. “He's attracted to me. Perhaps that is the reason.”

“Attracted? You mean he wanted you in his bed,” Kassandra said darkly.

A flush crept into Ariel's cheeks. He wanted her, yes. At least he had last night. But he had also sensed her hesitation, her uncertainty, and he hadn't made love to her again. “He's my husband. I desire him, as well. Oh, Kitt, there is no way to describe what it's like when we're together.”

Kassandra said nothing, but she looked vaguely disturbed. Ariel wondered, as she had before, if there was something painful in Kitt's past of which she had never spoken.

Kassandra leaned forward and took hold of Ariel's hand. “In time, it will all work out. You must believe that, Ariel.”

“I want to. Things are just so confused.” But she wondered how it could ever possibly work out. She was in love with a man who didn't love her. As Kitt had said, Justin was an extremely handsome man. Clay had admitted any number of women found him attractive. Without love to bind them, sooner or later he was bound to grow tired of her. Would he take a mistress, as most married men did?

The thought of Justin making love to another woman made her stomach roll with nausea.

Doubts plagued her, and a terrible fear of the future. They were worries she couldn't share even with her very dearest friend.

Mustering a smile, Ariel groped for a change of subject. “So … tell me about you and Clayton Harcourt. I gathered, from the hostile look you gave him, he isn't one of your favorite people.” Ariel hoped Kitt would deny it. She didn't like the notion that two of her and Justin's dearest friends were so obviously at odds.

“I realize he is a close friend of Lord Greville's, but God's breath, Ariel, the man is one of the most notorious rakes in London. He has slept with half the women in the
ton
and the other half are panting to get into his bed. He is arrogant and ill-tempered. He is rude and condescending and—”

“And gorgeous to look at. Clay is nearly as tall as Justin. He's extremely well built and most of the time quite charming. Are you saying you don't find him the least bit attractive?”

“Attractive? I loathe the very sight of him. I can't imagine how Father could even consider a match between us.”

Ariel listened as Kitt described the viscount's efforts to arrange a betrothal and what Clay had said in the Oriental Salon.

“He was cruel and hateful.” She glanced up, tears collecting in her eyes. “And every word he said was true.”

“Oh, Kitt.” Ariel reached over and hugged her. “Surely your father loves you. Perhaps he believes Clay would make a very good husband.”

“He only wants to be rid of me, just as Harcourt said.”

“It isn't like Clay to be cruel on purpose. From what you've told me, you made the idea of marrying him sound almost laughable. I think you may have hurt his feelings.”

Kitt dashed the tears from her cheeks. “The man has no feelings. He is self-centered and … and I can see the wolfish gleam in his eyes whenever he looks at me.”

Ariel laughed then. “Well, he has never looked at me that way. Perhaps you should be flattered.”

“Well, I'm not. And I'm certainly not interested in marrying him. As a matter of fact, I don't want to marry anyone at all.”

Ariel didn't say anything to that. She knew that in time, Kassandra would be forced to wed. It was the way of the aristocracy, the way of women in general. Ariel was a perfect example of what happened to a woman who tried to exist on her own in a world run by men.

The thought was sobering. She was married, her life in the hands of a man she didn't understand. What would happen to her? What would the future bring? She glanced at her friend, who had also turned pensive.

What sort of future lay ahead for either of them?

*   *   *

Kassandra returned to London two days later, Clay Harcourt following the afternoon of that same day. Ariel viewed their departure with mixed emotions. She wanted to spend time with the man who was now her husband, but with Kitt gone, she no longer had a friend to confide in. She thought of Kitt's troubled face and wondered if Lord Stockton would continue his matchmaking efforts on his daughter's behalf and whether Clay Harcourt had any sort of interest in pursuing a marriage between them. Ariel doubted it. The pair could scarcely be alone in the same room without an argument erupting.

She sighed to think of it. Clay knew Kitt's reputation. On the surface, she was spoiled and willful, and there was no doubt she was far too reckless. In most things, she did exactly as she pleased, and no one, not even her father, seemed to care enough to stop her. Kitt had come close to ruination on more than one occasion. It wasn't any wonder her father was so eager to see her safely wed.

Still, under all the bravado, Kassandra Wentworth was lonely and desperately in need of love. Ariel prayed Kitt would find a man who would give her that love.

Even as she prayed for the same thing for herself.

Gazing out the window of the intimate yellow salon, she heard the sound of approaching footsteps and turned to see Justin standing in the doorway.

“I thought I might find you here.” His smile was soft, but his gaze was unreadable, carefully disguising his thoughts.

Ariel forced herself to smile. “I was going to do some reading. Kassandra loaned me a book—one of Mrs. Radcliffe's gothic novels. Did you wish to speak to me?”

“I have news. A letter arrived from my grandmother. Knowles gave it to Jonathan, who included it among some business papers that needed my attention.”

“Your grandmother? How wonderful.”

“I hear from her about this time each year. She always has a dinner party at Christmastide. She says she hopes I'll be able to come. She doesn't know about you, yet. I shall write and tell her, of course, and thank her for the invitation.”

Ariel came up off the sofa. “Oh, Justin, we must go. You have so little family and I have none at all. And I would so very much like to meet her.”

He looked down at the letter. “For the past several years I've been meaning to go, but something always seems to come up. I don't suppose she really cares all that much. I have several distant cousins who undoubtedly will join her, and Grandmother has always been content to live by herself, she and the few servants she'll allow to attend her in that rambling old stone house of hers.”

“How long has it been since you've seen her?”

“Not since I was a boy. I send her money, of course, and we correspond by letter several times a year. I imagine she is getting to be quite old.”

“Please say we can go. Family is so important, and your grandmother undoubtedly misses you.”