Heartless (9 page)

The earl said nothing, but she thought she caught a hint of approval in his expression.

“And you, my lord? Do you find country life ‘dull and boring'?”

His glance strayed toward the window. “To be truthful, I find most of life dull and boring. The country, however, can, on occasion, bring one a certain degree of pleasure.”

“Then why do you not spend more time at Greville Hall? Especially since it is so much more…” She let the words trail away, realizing she had nearly paid him a very grave insult.

One of his straight black brows arched up. “So much more what, Miss Summers? Elegant? Or perhaps
palatial
is the word you are looking for.”

There was no choice now but to finish the thought, whether he liked it or not. “
Cheerful
is the word I would have chosen, my lord. Greville Hall is the most beautiful place I've ever seen. It is light and gay, with dozens of windows to let in the sun and air. The gardens seem always to be in bloom and even the furniture and draperies are sunny and warm.”

“How is it you are such an expert on Greville Hall?” he asked dryly. “I don't imagine my father ever invited you over for supper.”

She cast him a sideways glance. “I don't imagine you received an invitation, either.”

“Touché, Miss Summers.”

“I know what the house looks like because I used to climb over the fence behind the garden, sneak in behind the bushes, and peer inside through the rear windows. Sometimes, when I saw candles burning late at night, I would sneak over to watch the ladies dancing. They looked so beautiful and they seemed to be having so much fun. I vowed one day I would become a lady, too.”

“And so you have.”

But she hadn't, not really. A lady didn't journey across the country with a man she barely knew. A lady didn't become a man's mistress.

The earl turned away from her to stare back out the window. “I was only at Greville Hall on one occasion and that was just before my father died. My half sister, Barbara, lives there now, with her small son, Thomas. We do not get along.”

“Why not?” It was an impertinent question and she knew it. Still, she hoped that he would answer.

The earl looked down his nose at her, an intimidating stare that made her wish she hadn't asked, which was exactly what he intended.

The question lingered and finally he sighed in defeat. “Barbara is a widow. If my father had not made me his heir, the Greville title and fortune would have gone to her son.”

Ariel remembered the beautiful black-haired girl who had lived in the house when Ariel was a child, remembered watching her and her friends that day in her father's open carriage. She hadn't even known Lady Barbara Ross had been married. It seemed a good deal had happened since she'd struck her devil's bargain and been shipped off to school.

“She is terribly young to be a widow,” she said. “Just a few years older than I, if memory serves. It must have been terribly hard on her, losing her husband so soon after they were wed.”

The earl merely scoffed. “Barbara is six and twenty, and I believe my sister was relieved when her husband died. The Earl of Haywood was some forty years her senior, a crotchety old fool with more money than sense. I think Barbara married him in the very hope he wouldn't live a great many years and she would be left with the majority of his fortune. Unfortunately, she was Haywood's second wife. The earl already had two grown sons, which meant there wasn't much chance of Thomas becoming his heir.”

“Even so, surely he provided for her and the boy after his death.”

“I'm sure he intended to—in the beginning. Then he caught her in bed with his estate manager. There were questions about missing household funds, and soon after he changed his will. My father managed to smooth things over. Still, when Haywood died, he left her nearly penniless.”

“Are you saying she now survives solely by your charity?”

“More or less. She could remarry, of course, and I'm certain in time she will.”

“But if she is the sort of person you describe, why are you helping her?”

He shrugged the wide shoulders beneath his perfectly tailored black coat. “What choice do I have? She is my half sister, after all. I can hardly toss her and the boy out in the street. Society might not view me in the most desirable light, but I do not wish to be ostracized completely. It would hardly be good for my business dealings.”

Ariel said nothing to that. He provided for his sister not out of affection but simply to protect his social status. He didn't want to lose the financial benefits inherent in being a member of the
ton.
Still, if what Greville said was true, he had painted a very grim picture of his sibling. With a father who had ignored him, a mother who had abandoned him, and a ruthless, money-hungry sister who took advantage of his fortune, how could he be other than the cold, unfeeling man he seemed?

Ariel felt an unexpected twinge of pity.

Conversation faded. They traveled most of the day in silence. Ariel read or embroidered while the earl pored over volumes on textile manufacturing or the numerous investment portfolios he had brought along. The ride was lengthy and she was exhausted by the time he signaled his coachman to stop for the night at an inn called the King's Way.

Apparently, the earl had sent word ahead, as two private bedchambers were waiting. The knowledge that she would have her own separate sleeping quarters should have put her at ease. Instead, as she wearily entered the front door of the ivy-covered inn her nervousness returned full measure.

The earl stood at the foot of the stairs, his cool gaze shuttered, yet she sensed a faint tension in the muscles of his long, lean frame. “Will you join me in the taproom for supper or would you prefer to have something sent up to your room?”

Relief coursed through her that she could escape to the sanctity of her bedchamber. “I discover I'm quite fatigued, my lord. Something in my room would be preferable, if you don't mind.”

His mouth edged up as if he knew her thoughts. “Very well, I shall bring it myself.”

Ariel stiffened, worry slamming into her again. “Thank you,” she whispered, barely able to force out the words.

When she heard his light knock at the door she was still fully dressed, having been unwilling—not to mention unable—to remove her clothing with the earl yet to arrive with her supper.

He frowned as he stepped inside the room, strode over, and set the tray down on the plain wooden dresser against the wall. “I thought you said you were tired. Why is it you are still dressed? Ah, but how could I forget? You haven't a lady's maid, have you? I suppose I shall have to do the honors myself.… Come here, Ariel.”

There was something in the soft way he said her name that sent little shivers running through her. She made no move to obey him. Dear God, she could still remember the way he had ordered her to undress for him in his bedchamber.

“You aren't afraid of me, are you? I thought you understood that I am not going to hurt you.”

“I'm not … not afraid, my lord.” So what exactly was it that kept her rooted to the floor? She wasn't really certain.

“I know you're tired. I only wish to help you. Let me loosen your gown so you can undress and prepare for bed.”

She moved toward him on legs that felt stiff and unresponsive, stopping just in front of him. She felt his hands on her shoulders, gently turning her around; then he started unfastening the buttons at the back of her traveling gown one by one. It was the oddest sensation, far too intimate by half, yet not entirely unpleasant.

If the man had been Phillip … if he had been her husband, she might even have enjoyed it. But the Earl of Greville wasn't Phillip Marlin, and instead of a comfortable, faintly pleasant stirring, she felt the brush of his fingers like a hot brand burning into her skin.

The gown finally loosened and she held it modestly over her breasts. He still stood behind her, the firelight casting his long shadow across the room. The fabric of his tailcoat brushed against her back as he pulled the pins from her hair one by one, then spread the pale blond strands around her shoulders.

“Like sunlight in winter,” he murmured, his long fingers gently combing out the tangles. “Shall I plait it for you?”

An image arose of those elegant dark hands working to accomplish the task, and her stomach did a soft little curl. When she turned to face him, she saw that his eyes had turned a deep silver gray, the centers so black they glinted like obsidian in the firelight.

Her heart was beating too fast, her mouth suddenly dry. “Thank you … my lord,” she said softly. “You needn't trouble yourself. I'll be able to manage the rest by myself.”

He made a slight, stiff nod of his head, as if he were regretful of her decision. “As you wish. Good night, Miss Summers.”

Ariel counted the long, graceful strides that carried him out of her bedchamber. It wasn't until the door closed firmly behind him that she released the breath that she had been holding.

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

The following day they reached their destination, the small town of Cadamon in a narrow river valley southeast of Birmingham. It was growing late by the time they got there. Instead of heading for the factory, the earl checked in to a nearby inn, the Wayward Sparrow, not nearly as well appointed as the King's Way had been.

The earl sniffed his disapproval as he carried Ariel's tapestry traveling valise into the small, airless room above the kitchen that she would be using and set it on the lumpy feather mattress. His own quarters were a few doors down the hall and presumably no better than hers.

“I apologize for the accommodations. I had hoped they would be more suitable. Apparently when the mill fell upon hard times, so did the town.”

“The room will be fine, my lord.” She had certainly lived in far worse. The cottage she had shared with her father had been meager at best, though she had done what she could to make it comfortable.

“I'll have a bath sent up,” he said. “You can rid yourself of the road dust, then rest for a while. We'll sup in an hour. I'll call for you then.”

He gave her no chance to decline, just walked out the door and strode down the hall to his room. An hour later, he returned, his hair still damp from his own ablutions and shining like polished jet against the white stock around his neck. His eyes swept over her, taking in the plain blue muslin gown she had changed into, lingering for a moment on her breasts. An odd little quivering started in her belly and spread out through her limbs. Her breath seemed to catch in her chest.

“Hungry?” he asked, returning his gaze to her face.

Ariel forced herself to smile. “Actually, I am. Perhaps the food will be better than the rooms.”

He nodded. “Let us hope so.”

Fortunately, that was the case. They dined on flaky pigeon pie and Cheshire cheese and enjoyed a bottle of rich red Portuguese wine. The earl made pleasant conversation, first speaking of the weather, which lately heralded the coming of fall, then talking about what he might find when he got to the mill.

“I realize the place is in disrepair, but that is exactly what gives it such potential.”

“Do you own other factories as well?”

“Not yet, but I may be interested in acquiring more. First I want to see what I can do with this one. Tomorrow should be quite telling.”

“I imagine so.”

“The day starts early—half past five. I want to be there when they begin. I'm not certain how long I'll be gone. Will you be all right here until my return?”

Ariel swallowed the bite of cheese she had been chewing. “Why don't I go with you?” The words sprang out of nowhere. She hadn't even known she was going to say them. “I've never seen a mill. I think I should find it interesting.”

The earl looked dubious. He took a sip of wine, then set the pewter goblet back down on the table. “Business matters are hardly among a lady's usual pursuits.”

“True enough. But we both know I am a peasant, not a lady, and I find the prospect of learning about investments intriguing.”

“Five-thirty comes early.”

She smiled. “Until I arrived in the city, I always awakened well before dawn. It gave me extra time for my studies.”

He hesitated a moment more, then nodded. “All right, then. I shall call for you at five. That should give us ample time to get there.”

Ariel nodded with a degree of enthusiasm she hadn't expected to feel; then the old fears crept in and her smile slowly faded. What on earth had possessed her? She hardly needed to spend more time in company with the earl. Still, she wanted to go. She loved to learn about anything new, and this was another chance to do so.

They continued with the meal. She could feel his eyes on her, and in the light of the flickering candle some mysterious swirling current seemed to settle around them. He was incredibly handsome, she now saw, his dark beauty magnified by the power of his silvery gaze and the unsettling way he looked at her, as if no one else existed in the private world he had created.

By the time dessert, a warm apple tart sweetened with clotted cream, was finished, her palms were damp and their conversation had dwindled to a few brief words. Uncertainty rose up, began to gnaw at her. She knew what he wanted, why he had brought her along. His nearness stirred a strange mix of emotions, most of which she didn't recognize, but a growing one was fear.

So far he had played the gentleman, but would he continue to do so? Should he decide that he wanted her, there would be no one to help her, no one to stop him from having his way.

She shivered as she climbed the stairs in front of him, feeling his presence like a cool, dark shadow behind her. She stood by nervously as he opened the door to her room, then shoved it open.

“Will you need help with your gown?”