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.”
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.