Heartless (40 page)

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The holiday dinner with Cornelia Mae Bedford, Justin's grandmother, was scheduled to take place three days before Christmas. Since she lived just outside Reading, nearly a day's carriage ride away, they set out early in the morning, bundled in warm woolen clothes, a heavy fur lap robe covering their legs.

Determined not to let his business interfere, Justin ignored the stack of paperwork on his desk, but Ariel merely scooped it under her arm and headed out to the carriage.

“It's a long way to Reading. We'll need something to do along the way. I don't mind a little work. You can review some of the new investment projects you're considering while I go over the numbers on these financial reports Clay sent on the mine. You won't have so much to do when we get home.”

Justin smiled at her softly. “Most ladies would be appalled at the idea of doing any sort of actual work for their husbands.”

“I enjoy being useful. I'm bored silly when I've nothing productive to do.”

Working together made the hours on the rutted, muddy road pass swiftly. They stopped at several inns along the way to warm themselves and rest the horses, then returned to the carriage and their work. When they had finished, Ariel leaned back against the seat with a satisfied smile.

“What did I tell you? We're done with our work and we still have time for me to beat you quite soundly at a game of gin rummy.”

His laughter rang out, rich with delight, and she thought what a pleasant, joyous sound it was. Since she had returned to his bed, he seemed different, less guarded than he had ever been before. The hope she had once felt was growing stronger than ever, settling determinedly in her heart. He cared for her, she was now certain. Perhaps, as Clay Harcourt had said, in time he might even learn to love her.

They finished the card game, Ariel ahead in the beginning, Justin moving into the lead a few hands later, battling back and forth, finishing nearly at a draw. On the very last hand, Justin filled a difficult straight, winning the game by a mere three points, both of them laughing as the final card was turned over.

Ariel leaned back smiling, pleased to see her husband smiling as well. Unconsciously she fingered her beautiful sapphire wedding ring, thinking again what a perfect choice it had been, wondering, as she always did, how Clay Harcourt could have chosen something so exactly right for her.

She examined it in the watery winter sunlight filtering in through the isinglass windows, admiring the rich blue fire of the sapphires, the crystal-clear brilliance of the diamonds.

“You're smiling,” he said softly. “Do you really like it so much?”

“It's beautiful, Justin. If I could have chosen any ring in London, it would have been this exact one. I've always wondered how it was Clay Harcourt could have known so well what would please me.”

Justin took her hand and looked down at the glittering sapphires and diamonds. “Clay didn't choose the ring. I did.”

“You? But there wasn't time. You never left the country before the wedding. When could you possibly—”

“I bought the ring some time back.”

She frowned. “Some time back?”

“After our return from Tunbridge Wells. I intended to ask you to wed me then, but…”

“You were going to propose?” she asked with utter amazement.

“I planned to … yes.” His face looked suddenly bleak. “Then I saw you that night, going into the stable with Phillip Marlin.”

Ariel's mind spun, reeled beneath the impact of his words. “Oh, my God.” Tears sprang into her eyes. For the first time, she understood the magnitude of what had occurred. Justin glanced away, his beautiful gray eyes dark with the memory. “You wanted to marry me. Instead you thought … you thought that I had betrayed you. Oh, Justin.” She was in his arms in a heartbeat, clinging to his neck, tears running in rivers down her cheeks.

I love you,
she thought.
I love you so much.
But she didn't say it. She was afraid he wouldn't know what to say in return.

He held her tightly, his face pressed to hers. “Don't cry. I didn't mean to make you cry.”

She dragged in a shaky breath, willing herself to stop, a lump of tears caught in her throat. She wiped away the wetness with a shaky hand and summoned a watery smile. “They're happy tears, Justin. You would have married me even before all of this happened, even before the scandal.”

“If you would have had me. God knows I'm not the best husband you could have had, but I swear to you, Ariel, you won't be sorry. I promise you won't ever be sorry.”

But as much as she loved him, Ariel wasn't so sure. She wanted him to love her in return, needed to know that he cared for her as much as she cared for him. She didn't think she could ever be truly happy until that happened.

And in her heart, she wasn't completely convinced it ever would.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-FIVE

“We're 'ere, milord.” With a weary smile, the footman held open the carriage door. The day had been a long one, the last few hours lengthened when one of the wheels had dropped into a rut and some of the spokes were broken. They finally got it fixed and arrived at Justin's grandmother's house well after dark, all of them shivering with cold.

“Thank you, Timms.” Justin leaped to the ground. “The kitchen's round back. There'll be something there for you and the others to eat and a place for you to get warm.” He reached up and helped Ariel down, pulled her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. Settling a hand at her waist, he led her up the flagstone walkway toward the arched wood plank door.

The old stone house looked the same as he remembered, the shutters a bit more weathered, the shrubs a little more overgrown. The house stood two stories high, with gabled roofs and half a dozen chimneys. Lamplight illuminated the windows in the dining room, and he could see the faint flicker of firelight in the big stone hearth.

An unexpected sense of homecoming settled around him, odd since he hadn't lived in the house all that many years. He lifted the heavy brass knocker and let it fall several times, the echo a familiar one. The sound of shuffling feet preceded the opening of the heavy front door.

For an instant, he didn't remember the ancient, bone-thin butler who stood there grinning.

“'Tis Sedgewick, milord. We had given up hope, sir. We thought you had decided not to come.”

“A wheel broke on the carriage. Damnable nuisance, but we finally got it fixed.” He glanced around as he stepped inside, thinking to hear the sound of voices, his distant cousin Maynard and his wife, Sarah, or Phineas and Gerdie and their growing brood of five, but the house was eerily silent.

“This way, milord … milady. 'Tis beyond cold outside. Come, warm yourself before the fire.”

He followed the old man's creaking footsteps along the hall and stepped into the parlor, beginning to worry about his grandmother, wondering where she was, hoping she hadn't fallen ill.

Sedgewick seemed to read his thoughts. “She is not so young anymore. It's difficult for her to get round. She's in the dining room. She doesn't yet know you are here.”

“Where are my cousins?”

The old man shook his head, his watery blue eyes filled with sadness. “They always mean to come, but the journey is a long one, and the weather this time of year is never good. Your grandmother always holds out hope, but in the end…” He shrugged his bony shoulders. They were stooped with age, his cheeks hollow and sunken in. Sorrow lined his face when he spoke of the woman who had employed him for more than forty years.

“Justin?” Ariel's worried expression mirrored his own. “Do you think your grandmother is all right?”

His chest felt tight. “I don't know.”

They crossed the room behind the butler, past the same horsehair sofa Justin remembered as a boy, the arms protected by embroidered slipcovers his grandmother had sewn.

He paused at the dining room door. The table was not quite as long as he remembered, but it was polished to a glossy sheen, and pine boughs and holly berries formed a Christmas centerpiece in the middle. Twelve chairs clustered around it, eleven of them empty, though each place was set with his grandmother's precious heirloom silver and china and the delicate cut-crystal goblets his grandfather had given her on their first anniversary. Long white candles in the center of the table ate their way steadily through the slowly disappearing wax.

“It's this way every year,” the butler whispered. “She sets this lovely table and Cook prepares a special meal, but no one ever comes to share it with her.”

Justin glanced around the empty room and some long-buried painful emotion swelled inside him. He surveyed the table that had been so lovingly set for the family that wasn't there and the frail little woman who sat hunched over all alone, and regret rose like bile in his throat.

Hearing the butler's familiar voice, the tiny white-haired woman turned. When she spotted Justin, tears began to slide down her sunken, wrinkled cheeks. “Justin…?” She started to rise, trembled, and Justin strode forward to help her, catching her wrist, noticing how fragile the bones felt in his hand.

“I'm here, Grandmother.”

She smiled up at him, a tender, loving smile that seemed to melt some barrier inside him. It wrapped around his cold, empty heart, filling it with warmth, carrying him back to the days he had lived in the house, reminding him of the few years of his boyhood he had ever been truly happy.

“I'm so glad to see you,” she said. “I didn't think you were going to come.”

His heart beat dully, painfully. A crushing weight seemed to settle on his chest. “I should have come sooner.”

A veined hand reached up, lovingly caressed his cheek. “It's been so long … so many years. A thousand times I tried to picture what you would look like. You're all grownup now.” Her thin lips trembled. “I missed all of that … all of those years.” They curved into a wistful smile, puckering the skin around her mouth. “My, you are so handsome.”

His throat felt thick and tight. He could hardly swallow. How could he have treated her so badly? How could he have simply ignored her for all of those years? Something was stinging, burning behind his eyes. He felt the wetness clinging to his lashes. He told himself it could not be.

He never cried. He was a cold, emotionless man. He wasn't the sort for tears.

He gruffly cleared his throat. “My wife is here, Grandmother. She's been eager to meet you.” The only real reason he had come. If Ariel hadn't persuaded him, he wouldn't be here now. And his grandmother would be eating another Christmas dinner alone.

His chest knotted, squeezed painfully.

His grandmother reached out and took hold of Ariel's hand. “I'm so glad to meet you, my dear.”

In the light of the candle, he could see the sheen of wetness in Ariel's eyes. “As I am to meet you. Justin has talked of you often.” It wasn't the truth, but it made his grandmother's face light up.

“Has he?” It was a sweet little lie, and he adored Ariel for it. “I was afraid he would forget me.”

“Oh, no,” Ariel said quickly, discreetly dabbing at a drop of moisture. “He would never do that.”

“No, Grandmother,” Justin said gruffly, his throat aching, hurting so much it was nearly impossible to speak. “How could I possibly forget?” And suddenly he knew it was the truth. He had loved this little woman, the closest to a mother he had ever really known. He'd loved her then and he loved her still.

For so many years he had hidden his feelings, buried them so deep he thought he had lost them completely. The detached, emotionless man he had become had been certain he had no heart. Now he felt it, beating there inside him, aching with what he realized with complete and utter awe was love.

“My wife has fashioned a present for you, Grandmother.”

She smiled with sheer delight. “A present? For me? But I have nothing for you in return. I didn't—”

“You've made us a beautiful supper. You've brought back sweet memories that had all but faded. Those are gifts enough.”

Ariel handed her the silhouette she had worked so hard to make, and his grandmother accepted it with a frail, shaking hand.

“Why don't we sit down so you can open it,” Justin suggested, noticing his grandmother was beginning to tire.

He helped her back to her chair, and they sat down one on each side of her. She carefully pulled the red string around the brightly wrapped package, then lovingly touched the plaster silhouette, tracing the shadow of his profile.

“It's beautiful,” she said with a fond look at Ariel. “Such a precious gift.” She was up again more agilely than the first time. “Come, I've the perfect place to hang it.”

Justin took his grandmother's arm and helped her into the drawing room, Ariel beside them.

“See?” She pointed toward a group of portraits hanging on the wall. “I painted them after you were gone. I wanted to remember you exactly as you were.”

Half a dozen watercolor images lined the drawing room wall. They weren't exactly perfect, but the likeness was passably good.

And all of the portraits were of him.

If he'd had any doubt left that he still possessed a heart, now he knew for certain, for it broke and crumbled in two, aching fiercely where the pieces lay scattered inside his chest.

“You look like your father, but you have your mother's stubborn chin.” The old woman smiled. “I imagine you can be as set in your ways as she was.”

“I thought you had forgotten all about me,” he said softly, gruffly.

“You were the son I never had. I've thought about you every day since the night they took you away.”

He bent down, enfolded the little woman in his arms. He couldn't stop the tears that slid down his cheeks. “From now on, things will be different, I promise you. You can come and live with us. There is plenty of room and—”