Free Heartless by Kat Martin Page A

couldn’t seem to stop staring. She continued to watch as Marlin thrust the stack of boxes into the boy’s small, pink-palmed hands, then climbed inside the carriage and slammed the door. The child struggled with the boxes for a moment, handed them to a footman, then fought to climb up beside the driver, teetering near the top so precariously Justin heard Ariel gasp in a worried breath. Eventually, the little boy made it, and Phillip ordered the coachy to make way.
    â€œI can’t believe he would treat a child that way,” Ariel said softly.
    â€œThere are a number of things about Phillip Marlin you couldn’t begin to imagine,” Justin said dryly, knowing she wouldn’t believe him if he told her. Taking a firm grip on her arm, wishing Marlin to perdition, he led her on down the street.
    *   *   *
    No matter how she tried to will it not to, the next day arrived and with it their departure for Birmingham. Ariel had spent a restless night thinking of the earl and Phillip Marlin, remembering the concern for her, the unexpected sympathy, she had seen in Lord Greville’s eyes at the dressmaker’s shop. He had sensed her embarrassment, her utter humiliation. There was a moment she thought he might sweep her up and whisk her out of there, so dark was the look on his face.
    And then there was Phillip. Surely Greville was wrong about Phillip’s association with the boy. Perhaps he was helping the child in some way. Perhaps the lad was an orphan. Still, it bothered her the way he had treated the boy, like some sort of prize to be displayed. She tried to imagine Lord Greville treating a small child that way, but the image refused to surface.
    The coach was waiting out in front when Ariel descended the stairs. She was packed and ready well before time to depart, her little maid, Silvie, standing nervously beside her, a small traveling valise clutched in the girl’s pudgy hand.
    Lord Greville appeared in the entry a few minutes later, sweeping in with the power of a storm.
    Ariel forced herself to smile. “We’re ready, my lord.”
    He gave her a cursory glance and frowned. “I thought you understood. I’ve a good deal of work to do. I’ll need my privacy. As we are taking only one carriage, your maid will not be coming along.”
    Ariel blinked in surprise. “But you must let her come. It is unseemly for a lady—” She caught his scowl, started over again. “How could I possibly manage without her? Who would help me undress?”
    â€œYou managed for a good many years without a servant; I imagine you can survive for a few days more.”
    It was highly unseemly, yet Ariel didn’t argue, knowing it would do not the least amount of good. Instead she stood rigidly aside as her little maid climbed back up the stairs. Greville took her arm and guided her out the door and down the front steps of the old stone mansion. He helped her climb into the carriage, then took a seat across from her. His shoulders looked even wider in such close quarters, and though his clothes were simply cut, he wore them with an air of authority. In truth, it was hard to imagine him ever being anything other than an earl.
    They spoke little on the way out of the city, and eventually she lapsed into enjoying the sights. Unfamiliar with London, she had stayed fairly close to the house, and Phillip had driven her mostly in the park. Even the earl’s recent shopping excursion hadn’t carried her all that far away.
    Now, as they headed into the burgeoning traffic, she watched with growing fascination the hordes of people who filled the narrow streets to overflowing: inksellers, ballad singers, a man selling secondhand clothes.
    A ragged little boy with a grimy face and small fingers poking through the ends of his gloves sold apples on a corner. Conveyances of every size and shape converged in the bustling cobbled lanes, creating a cacophony of shouting