Red Roses Mean Love (34 page)

Walking slowly up the steps, her gaze took
in
the lovely structure, from its aged rose-colored brick to the small but lovely flower garden. Just before she reached the top step, one of the huge double doors opened.

"Good afternoon, Miss Albright," a dour-faced butler intoned, standing back so she could enter the foyer.

"Good afternoon," she replied with a smile. She stepped into the foyer and caught her breath. A multi-tiered crystal chandelier, the largest Hayley had ever seen, hung from the ceiling. A majestic staircase curved upward to the second
floor. The foyer floor was dark green marble, and so shiny,
Hayley could easily see her awestruck reflection in it.

"May I take your wrap?" The butler's voice jerked her attention back to him, and she surrendered her shawl.

"Thank you."

"The countess is in her private sitting room. Please, follow me."

Following the butler down a long corridor, Hayley gazed about with interest, trying not to gawk. Glossy mahogany
ta
bles ran along the hallway, each containing huge arrangements of fresh flowers. She admired the flowers, mentally naming each individual bloom as she past. Several gilded mirrors graced the pale ivory silk-covered walls. She surreptitiously checked her appearance and was satisfied that the coach ride had not disarranged her coiffure.

The butler stopped abruptly in front of a door, and Hayley nearly plowed into his back, so intent was she on looking about. Luckily she caught herself just in time.

He opened the door and indicated with a solemn nod of his head that she should enter the room.

A warm fire crackled in the grate, lending a cozy air. The room was bright and cheery, sunlight spilling through the tall Palladian windows. Several oil paintings depicting pastoral scenes graced the pale green silk walls. Two chintz wing chairs flanked the sofa, and a cherry escritoire sat in the corner. Fresh flowers filled crystal vases, their sweet fragrance scenting the air. Hayley felt as if she were in an enchanted secret garden.

"Miss Albright," said a soft voice behind her. "Thank you so much for accepting my invitation, especially on such short notice."

Hayley turned, prepared to greet her hostess, but her first glimpse of the countess stunned her. She wasn't sure what she'd expected the Countess of Blackmoor to look like, but she certainly hadn't envisioned the lovely young woman walking toward her with a friendly smile wreathing her beautiful face.

The countess extended her hand. "How do you do, Miss Albright?"

Hayley managed to remember her manners and dropped into an awkward curtsy. She then rose and took the countess's hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Blackmoor. And it is I who should thank you for your kind invitation."

"Please come in and sit down," the countess invited, leading the way to the sofa. "I thought we might sit and chat for a few minutes before tea is served."

"This is a lovely room," Hayley remarked once they were seated.

"Thank you. It is my favorite. No matter how frantic things become, I can escape in here and find peace." The countess leaned forward and studied Hayley with unconcealed interest.

"I must admit, Miss Albright, you are not at all what I expected," she said. Hayley's dismay must have shown because the countess quickly added, "Oh! Please, do not misunderstand me. I am most surprised—most
pleasantly
surprised, I assure you." She reached out and briefly squeezed Hayley's hand.

Hayley whooshed out a sigh of relief. She returned the countess's friendly smile and confided, "In that case, I must admit that
you
are not at all what I expected either."

"Indeed? What were you expecting?" the countess asked, her face filled with lively interest.

"Honestly?"

"Certainly."

"Well, I pictured you attired in some sort of formidable dark gown, and a pince-nez perched on your nose. Several strands of pearls, a severe gray-haired chignon, and tending toward obesity. I imagined you'd sport a limp, and be very,
very
old," Hayley concluded, a sheepish grin tugging at her lips.

The countess burst out laughing. "Good heavens! And you actually agreed to come to tea?"

"In truth, I considered turning down your invitation, but my younger sisters wouldn't allow me to refuse." Hayley admitted, relaxing in the countess's presence. In spite of her hostess's noble lineage, she was friendly and warm, and Hayley liked her immediately. "They're pea green with envy I'm having tea with a countess. My younger sister, Callie,
lives
for tea parties. She's at home right now, pacing the floor, anxiously awaiting my return so I can tell her how a countess pours tea."

"How old is Callie?"

"She's six. She'll be seven in two weeks."

"How wonderful." The countess rang for the tea cart. "Please continue. I'm anxious to hear all about you and your family." She listened intently while Hayley gave a brief sketch of all the Albrights, including Grimsley, Winston, and Pierre. Just as she finished, the tea arrived.

"And what of your parents?" the countess asked, pouring out two cups.

"They are both deceased."

"How terribly sad for you. Who takes care of your brothers and sisters? Your aunt?"

A small laugh escaped Hayley. "No, Aunt Olivia is a dear lady, but I fear she's unable to take care of such a high-spirited bunch."

"You have a governess, then?"

"No. Just me. And, of course, Pamela."

The countess's teacup froze halfway to her lips. "Do you mean to say
you're
in charge of the entire household?"

Hayley nodded, amused by her hostess's dumbfounded expression. "It's difficult at times, but I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. Do you have any brothers or sisters, my lady?"

"I have two brothers," she answered, but immediately switched the conversation back to Hayley, asking literally dozens of questions about Halstead, the Albrights, and Hayley's interests. In return, the countess told many amusing tales about the glittering world of Society. Hayley wondered why the countess did not mention their mutual friends, but she was reluctant to broach the subject before her hostess did.
She certainly didn't want the countess to think her
ill-mannered.

When the second pot of tea was finished, Hayley chanced to glance at the mantel clock and nearly overturned her cup. "My goodness! Surely it cannot be after five?"

The countess laughed. "I was enjoying myself so much. I cannot believe the time flew by so quickly."

Hayley finished her tea and started to rise. "I've enjoyed a lovely afternoon, but I must be going. My family will wonder what has become of me."

"Please, don't leave yet," the countess said, halting her with a gentle touch on her arm. "We still haven't discussed our mutual friends."

Settling herself once again on the sofa, Hayley said, "When I first arrived, I admit I was fairly bursting with curiosity, but after a while I forgot all about them, whoever they are." She smiled. "It's odd, but I feel as if I have known you for a very long time."

The countess returned her smile. "I feel the same way. In fact, I would like very much for us to be friends."

Normally Hayley would have been quite taken aback at the notion of being friends with such a highborn lady, but after spending the afternoon with the countess, she felt very much at ease. "I'd be honored, Lady Blackmoor."

"In that case, I insist you call me Victoria. All my friends do."

"That would be lovely
…
Victoria
. And you must call me Hayley."

"Excellent. Hayley, I think it's time we discussed our mutual friends."

Hayley waited, curious. "Go on."

"I believe you're acquainted with my husband."

Curiosity turned to confusion. "Your husband?"

"The Earl of Blackmoor."

Hayley shook her head. "I'm sure I've never met him."

"You may, perhaps, know him by his given name,"
Victoria
suggested.

"That is most unlikely."

"His name is Justin Mallory."

Hayley stared at
Victoria
, struck mute by her shocking words. It took her a full minute to recover her voice. "I am acquainted with a Mr. Justin Mallory, but it must be a coincidence. The Mr. Mallory I know is not a nobleman."

Victoria
rose and walked across the room to the dainty writing desk. She returned carrying a framed miniature, which she handed to Hayley. "This is my husband, Justin Mallory, the Earl of Blackmoor."

Hayley looked at the small painting and felt the blood dram from her face. The handsome man looking back at her was indeed the same Justin Mallory she knew. Shocked and confused, she said, "I had no idea Mr. Mallory was an earl. Or, obviously, that you are his wife."

Victoria
sat next to Hayley and said in a gentle voice, "I believe you also know Justin's best friend, Stephen Barrett."

Hayley stiffened. Hot pain flashed through her, but she managed to keep her voice steady. "I am acquainted with a Mr. Stephen
Barrettson."

"His real name is Barrett, but I don't believe you know him by his other name."

The room suddenly felt too small and bereft of air.
"Other
name? How many does he have?"
Dear God, I must get out of here before I lose my mind.

"Quite a few, actually, but I won't bore you with his numerous lesser titles. He is the Marquess of Glenfield."

Hayley stared in profound shock. "We must be speaking of two different people. The man I met was a tutor."

"No. The man you met is Stephen Barrett, the Marquess of Glenfield. He is also my brother."

Black dots danced before Hayley's eyes and her breath clogged in her throat. She gaped at
Victoria
, speechless.

"I'm so sorry to spring the news on you like this—"

"I must go," Hayley said, jumping to her feet and looking frantically about for her reticule. She didn't understand what was going on here, but she had to get away. Stephen was a marquess?
Victoria
was his sister? He'd said he was a tutor—with no family.
More lies
…
like when he said he cared for me.
The depth of his deception hit her like a brick to her head. A
tutor?
A hysterical half laugh, half sob bubbled up her throat.

No wonder his Latin was abysmal and he couldn't shave. His formality, his criticism of her household—now she understood it all so well. Dear God, the man probably owned half of
England
. How he must have
laughed
at them. All of them. Especially her.

Nausea grabbed her and she clutched her heaving stomach. She couldn't bear to hear another word. Spying her reticule, she snatched it up and practically ran across the room, desperate to escape.

"Wait!"
Victoria
caught up to her and grasped her by the upper arms. "Please, don't leave like this. I must speak to you about my brother."

"I have nothing to say about
your brother."

"Because of the way he left you. I understand. But there are so many things you don't know. Things I need to tell you. Please. You don't have to say anything. Just listen to me."

Hayley stood stiffly, looking at the floor.

"Please,"
Victoria
repeated.

Raising her chin, Hayley saw that
Victoria
appeared very serious and earnest. She also now noticed that her green eyes were very much like Stephen's, and they were pleading with her to remain.

"Does he know I'm here?" Hayley asked, not willing to stay if there was a chance she might come face-to-face with Stephen.

"No. And neither does Justin. No one will disturb us here."

Not convinced she wasn't making a grave error, Hayley reluctantly walked back to the sofa and sat down. "Very well. I'll listen to what you have to say."

Victoria
sat next to her. "I would first like to say thank you. You saved Stephen's life and I shall always be grate
ful." Reaching out, she clasped one of Hayley's clammy, trembling hands and squeezed.

"I don't understand any of this," Hayley said in a tight whisper. "He said he was a tutor. He said he had no family—"

"Someone is trying to kill him, Hayley."

Hayley's blood turned to ice. "I beg your pardon?"

"Someone tried to kill him the night you found him. From what I understand, it may not have been the first attempt on his life."

"Dear God," Hayley whispered, pressing her hand to her stomach. "Did Stephen tell you this?"