Heartless (28 page)

A bellow of fury erupted. Swearing foully, he grabbed his aching skull, which bled from a cut on the top, and sagged to his knees, bracing himself against the dresser.

Praying she hadn't done any permanent damage, Ariel wildly glanced around for the key. Dear God, it had to be in his pocket! His coat was on the bed. She raced toward it and madly dug through the pockets. She found the object easily, but her hands were shaking so much she could barely get it out.

“You little bitch!”

Ariel whirled toward the sound of Horwick's voice. He was on his feet, swaying unsteadily, blood trickling from the gash on his head down the side of his face and dripping off one fat cheek. “You'll pay for this!” he shouted. “By God you'll pay!”

Ariel streaked for the door, jammed the key in the lock with a shaking hand, and wildly turned the handle. She yanked it open and stepped outside just as two of his lordship's footmen came racing down the hall.

“Stop her!” Horwick shouted. “That woman tried to kill me!”

The color drained from her face.
Oh, dear God.
She tried to dart past the footmen, but one of them caught her around the waist and another grabbed her arm, wrenching it painfully up behind her. Through the open bedchamber door, Lord Horwick staggered out into the hall.

“Call a constable!” he demanded. “I want justice. I want this woman to pay for what she's done!”

Ariel turned stricken eyes to the earl. “Please … I didn't mean to hurt you. I was only trying to protect myself.”

But already the household was in chaos, the kitchen help scurrying out to discover the source of the excitement, a footman and two linkboys racing out the door. A few minutes later, a group of watchmen thundered up the stairs. Horwick blustered and ranted, inventing a tale of attempted murder and ordering her tossed into gaol.

“He's lying!” Ariel shouted as the men dragged her down the hall toward the stairs. “The earl attacked me! I was only trying to defend myself!”

But no one believed her, not even the other servants. And even if they did, they weren't about to interfere. Jobs were simply too scarce.

As they neared the front door, she glanced frantically around one last time, looking for Mrs. O'Grady, then remembered the housekeeper had taken a few days off to visit relatives out of town.

“Dear God,” she whispered as the watchmen hustled her down the front steps and into the their waiting carriage, terrified and not having the faintest idea what she should do. For an instant, she thought of Justin, but she wasn't really certain he would help her even if she found a way to reach him. And if he did, she could too well imagine what he would expect from her in return.

Fighting back tears, Ariel leaned back against the worn leather seat of the carriage, staring at the unforgiving faces of the watchmen, wondering how the beautiful life she had once imagined could have gone so very wrong.

*   *   *

Justin adjusted the knot of his white cravat for the second time and pulled down the cuffs of his fine lawn shirt. Dressed in a dove gray tailcoat, silver brocade waistcoat, and burgundy breeches, he checked his image in the mirror one last time and started for the door.

He was headed for Lord Horwick's, determined to speak to Ariel, to convince her to move into the town house he had rented for her use. He had sent the earl a message four days ago, determined to see him, wanting to make it clear that Ariel was under his protection and that Horwick should leave her alone, but the earl had apparently left the city.

Justin was more than grateful. Knowing Ariel was safe, he'd spent the next three days working up his courage, trying to decide what to say. In the end, he had simply decided he would remove her by force if she refused to listen to reason. With that goal in mind, he hurriedly descended the stairs and climbed aboard his carriage.

It didn't take long to reach the earl's. He rapped firmly with the brass knocker on the front door and the stout little butler pulled it open.

“Good afternoon, milord. I am sorry to inform you Lord Horwick is not at home.”

“I realize that. I am here to see Miss Summers.”

“Miss Summers?”

“That's correct.” Justin started past the little man into the foyer of the house. “I'm rather in a hurry to see her. If you will kindly tell her I am here—”

“I'm sorry, milord, but Miss Summers isn't … Miss Summers is no longer employed by Lord Horwick.”

Justin's hard stare bored into the butler, whose face turned a faint shade of green. “Are you telling me she is not in the house?”

“No, milord.”

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. “Then where has she gone?”

“I'm not … not exactly sure, my lord.”

There was something furtive in his manner. Justin reached out and gripped the front of the little man's white shirt and dragged him up on his toes. “Then find someone who is sure—and you had better be quick about it.”

Justin released his hold and the terrified man scurried away, disappearing into the interior of the house. Awaiting his return, Justin paced the entry, his stomach knotted with fear. Where had she gone? How would he find her? Had something happened? Why hadn't he come sooner?

When the clock in the entry began to chime and the butler had still not returned, Justin started off in the direction he had gone.

He had only taken a couple of steps when the housekeeper, a short, robust gray-haired woman, stepped out into the hall and hurried toward him “Lord Greville, thank heaven you are here. I'm Mrs. O'Grady—Lord Horwick's housekeeper.”

Horwick's name made the knot tighten in his stomach.

“I've been beside myself since I heard the news,” she rambled on. “I've been away, you see, visitin' my aunt, and only just returned home this mornin'.”

“Where is she? Where is Ariel?”

“Oh, my lord, 'tis the most dreadful thing.”

Justin caught hold of her arms. “Mrs. O'Grady, please—tell me what's happened.”

Her worried eyes fixed on his face. “There was an … an altercation of sorts four days past. Lord Horwick accused Ariel of tryin' to murder him. The constable came and took her away. The poor, dear child's locked up in Newgate Prison.”

But Justin was already moving, heading for the door and his waiting carriage.

“She was only tryin' to defend herself,” Mrs. O'Grady called after him, trailing him down the front porch stairs. “Some of the servants took up a collection and paid the garnish, so the guards wouldn't … so no one would hurt her.”

His jaw flexed, but he made no comment, just jerked open the carriage door.

Looking more worried than ever, Mrs. O'Grady reached out and caught hold of the tail of his coat. “Please, my lord, there's no one else ta help her.”

He turned to her then, saw the distress in her plump, lined face, and summoned a calming smile. “Put your worry to rest, Mrs. O'Grady. Ariel will be safe. I'll take care of everything.”

Her shoulders sagged with relief and she smiled, brushed at a tear that crept from the corner of her eye. “I knew it. I saw it in your eyes the day you came to see her. I knew she could count on you.”

Justin merely nodded. Of course she could count on him. She just didn't believe it. Damn, why hadn't he gone to her sooner, forced her to leave that bloody damned house? If he had, she wouldn't be locked up in prison.

One more failure.

One more mark against his black soul.

One more deed she would never forgive.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

The carriage rumbled at top speed through the streets of London, carrying Justin in all haste to Newgate, the main criminal prison in London. Instructing his coachman to wait out in front, he made his way directly to the warden's office. A few minutes of conversation, a pouch of coins dispersed into grateful hands, and he was shown through the gates into the prison.

“Right this way, milord,” said one of the guards, a tall, skeletal man with rotten teeth who led him down a set of stairs lit by flickering rushlights. The smell of unwashed bodies, urine, and vomit rose like acid into his nostrils, worsening with every step he took deeper into the bowels of the prison.

At the bottom of the wooden stairs, long rows of dank, dark cells, holding up to ten prisoners each, stretched out in front of him. He could hear women weeping. One of them shouted vile curses while another laughed maniacally, the eerie sound echoing off the walls. Most of them simply stared out through the bars with glazed, hollow eyes that appeared blank and unseeing.

Justin steeled himself. Ariel had been living in this hell of rancid flesh and rotting offal for four long days. He knew the way the guards often treated the female prisoners and fervently prayed that the money Mrs. O'Grady's friends had paid had kept her safe.

“Not much farther,” the guard said, swinging the lantern he carried out in front of him, using it as a pointer. “Just down there.”

Justin lengthened his strides, forcing the guard to hurry his pace to keep up. The skinny man stopped in front of a crowded cell and held up the lantern. Through the narrow iron bars, Justin could see there were no cots, just damp, dirty straw on the cold stone floor. Some of the women huddled against the walls; others lay sleeping. Ariel sat with her back against the rough stone, staring straight ahead. Her simple black skirt was torn in several places, her white blouse gray with filth. The hem of her skirt was ruched up, and he could see that her feet were bare. There was dirt on her face, and her long blond braid looked lank and dull and was littered with stems of straw.

Justin's heart turned over. He forced himself to breathe in a lungful of the fetid, foul-smelling air and moved closer. “Ariel?” He spoke to her softly through the bars. “It's Justin. I've come to take you home.”

She made no movement, her mind far away from her pitiful surroundings. She didn't even acknowledge he was there.

“Ariel? Can you hear me?” When she still made no move, he turned a hard look on the guard. “Open the door.”

The skinny man did as he was told, the rusty lock grating, the iron door yawning as it swung open. Justin stepped inside and began picking his way over the women sprawled on the floor, shouldering his way past those who were standing.

“Eh, 'andsome,” one of them called out. “You 'ere for me?” Several others cackled with laughter, but Justin ignored them. When he reached the spot where Ariel sat, he slowly knelt beside her. In the light of the lantern, her skin looked as pale as marble and her eyes were so dull and bleak that a thick lump rose in his throat.

“Ariel, love, it's Justin. Can you hear me?”

Her eyes flickered, slowly moved to his face. “Justin…?”

“I've come to take you home.” Bending down, he slid his arms beneath her knees, scooped her up against his chest, and started back toward the door. Ariel pressed her face into his shoulder. He felt her tremble; then she began to weep.

The lump in his throat ached painfully. Justin strode through the heavy iron door, down the long row of cells, and up the stairs. He didn't pause until he was outside the building, feeling the sunlight, breathing clean air. Still, he kept walking, out through the tall front gates, along the paving stones till he reached his carriage. Climbing swiftly inside, he settled Ariel on his lap, an arm wrapped protectively around her. A footman closed the door, and a few seconds later the coach lurched into motion.

“It's all right,” he said gently, smoothing strands of silvery hair back from her cheeks. “You're safe now. You've nothing more to be afraid of. Everything is going to be all right.” She felt so fragile, so weak. It was obvious she hadn't eaten. The smudges beneath her eyes said she hadn't had any sleep.

Ariel made a soft, whimpering sound, and Justin tightened his hold around her. He whispered soothing words and held her against him until they reached the house; then he lifted her up and swiftly departed the carriage, whisking her safely inside.

Knowles hurried toward them, a frown creasing his usually stoic face. “Good heavens.”

“Have a bath prepared and sent up to her bedchamber.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“She'll need some food as well.”

“I'll see to it myself.”

Justin nodded his thanks and carried Ariel up to the room she had used before, setting her carefully down on the edge of the four-poster bed. “Are you hurt?” he asked gently.

Her eyes closed for an instant; then she slowly shook her head. She didn't say anything, just sat there staring down at the hands she had limply folded in her lap. Looking into her weary face, Justin hesitated only a moment, then began to unfasten the buttons on her dirty cotton blouse.

“The lads are bringing you a bath,” he said softly. “We need to get you out of these filthy clothes.”

Ariel's hand caught his. Big blue eyes lifted to his face. “I'm all right now. I can do it myself.”

“You're certain you aren't injured? The guards didn't … they didn't hurt you?”

She swallowed. “No.”

A pair of linkboys arrived with a steaming tub of water. Justin waited for the boys to set the tub in the middle of the room, then rose to leave.

“I'll send Silvie in to help you.”

“Thank you.”

Turning away, he went to fetch the woman who had served as her maid, then paced nervously outside the bedchamber door until the dark-haired girl finally opened it and stepped back out into the hall.

“How is she?” he asked, the moment the door was closed.

“She's sleeping, milord. She was exhausted. She fell asleep before she even had a chance to eat.”

Justin exhaled a weary breath. “I'll sit with her awhile. I don't want to leave her alone.”

“Aye, milord.”