Red Roses Mean Love (38 page)

Hayley closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Someone to take care of her. Dear God, that sounded wonderful.
I've taken care of so many people for so long. What would it feel like to have someone take care of me?

"Promise me you'll think about it," he said.

How could she not? Jeremy's proposal was incredibly tempting and not a prospect to dismiss summarily. Yes, he'd cried off three years ago, and she'd been hurt, but part of her had understood his decision. While she might not love him, she cared for him, and they did get on well together.
Someone to take care of me.

Hayley nodded. "I promise I'll think about it."

Once again pulling her close, Jeremy kissed her cheek, then her lips. Hayley tried to feel something, anything, from the touch of his lips on hers, but she felt nothing. A wave of desperation flooded her, a frantic need to feel
something
in the arms of this man who wanted to spend his life with her.
Someone to take care of me.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she sifted her fingers through his thick blond hair. "Kiss me," she whispered.

Surprise flashed in his eyes, but he settled his hands on her waist and kissed her several times before stepping back. "I think we'd best stop," he said in a shaky voice.

"Yes,"
Hayley agreed, trying to hide her disappointment.

"May I call on you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" she repeated absently. "We're having a birthday party for Callie, but, yes, of course. You're welcome to join us."

He placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand. "Till then, darling." He left her, walking down the garden path toward the house.

The moment he was out of sight, Hayley plopped herself down on the nearest bench and touched her fingers to her lips. She'd tried desperately to will some feeling, some spark of passion, from Jeremy's kiss, but she'd failed. Failed miserably.

Compared to Stephen's kiss, Jeremy's was as exciting as kissing a dead carp. Where Stephen's kiss had left her breathless and filled with yearning, Jeremy's had left her feeling nothing more than faintly bored.

Groaning with self-disgust, Hayley dropped her face into her hands. It was unfair to compare Jeremy to Stephen because the Stephen she'd fallen in love with didn't really exist. Jeremy was real. And he cared for her. He wanted to marry her. To take care of her.

What on earth am I going to do?

Chapter 29

«
^
»

"
W
hat the hell was so bloody important that you dragged
me over here?" Stephen demanded as he strode into Justin's private study.

"How nice to see you up and about," Justin remarked.

"You didn't leave me much choice." Stephen poured himself a generous brandy then stood facing Justin. "I'll ask again. What the hell do you want?"

Justin shook his head. "My, my. Don't we have a temper today."

"We
do not have a temper.
We
have a monstrous headache, a mountain of correspondence to see to, and no time to waste socializing."

"Pity," Justin said, without a trace of sympathy. "And here I thought you'd be delighted to get out of the house. You've been cooped up in your town house for a week now. According to my staff, you've been out of bed for several days."

"How does
your
staff know what goes on in my home?"

"One of your kitchen workers is a cousin to
Victoria
's abigail."

Stephen tossed back half his drink. "How bloody delightful."

 
"Someone has to keep us informed," Justin said mildly. "It's not as if you're very cooperative these days."

"There's nothing to tell. I've been working. For the three days before that I was resting in bed. As you may recall, I was shot. Now, are you going to tell me why you insisted I come here?"

"I didn't insist—"

"You
insisted,"
Stephen stressed with a glare, "stating that you had something of great importance to tell me."

"Sit down, Stephen."

"I don't bloody well want to sit down," Stephen shouted.

"Just tell me what the hell you need to say and let me leave."

"Very well. It's about Hayley."

Stephen froze, his brandy snifter arrested halfway to his lips. Forcing a calm he was far from feeling, he said, "Indeed?"

Justin held out an envelope. "This was delivered here this morning. It's addressed to you in care of me. The messenger said it was given to him by a Miss Albright of Halstead."

Stephen set down his drink and took the envelope, his insides tight with tension. Half of him desperately wanted to see what Hayley had written, but the other half dreaded her words, which were no doubt filled with scorn. And rightfully so.

Justin walked to the door. "I'll have you know that only a lifetime of being a gentleman prevented me from opening it and reading it myself. I'll give you some privacy, but I shall return shortly. Do not even think of leaving until I do." With that, he left the room.

Stephen stared at the envelope, his heart pounding with anticipation and fear. He lowered himself into a wing chair and slipped an unsteady finger under the folded edge of the envelope, breaking the wax seal. Reaching in, he withdrew a single sheet of paper. He looked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath, and then lowered his eyes to the page before him.

Dear
Lord Glenfield.

I hope you are feeling better. When Hayley told us you hurt your head, I felt very sad. She said you would be better soon. I hope so. We are all fine. Aunt Olivia helped me make a new dress for Miss Josephine and she looks beautiful now. My birthday is on Friday, the 20th, and we are planning a party. Guess what kind? A tea party! We will have cookies and cake, and we
're
even giving Winky, Pinky, and Stinky a bath so they can come too. I wish you could come. Then it would be my best birthday ever. Hayley says you're an important nobleman and you don't have time for birthday parties, but I told her you love tea parties. And if you come, maybe Hayley won't look so sad. She was crying the other day, but when I asked her what was wrong, she said she had something in her eye. Maybe Mr. Popplemore said something to make her feel bad. He visits almost every day. Dr. Wentbridge comes every day, but not because we're sick. It's because he's going to marry Pamela. Winston finished fixing the chicken coop and is now repairing the stable roof. Grimsley lost his spectacles again, and Pierre found them in the stew.
Pierre
said a lot of words I didn't understand and Grimsley is trying to keep his glasses on his nose. Andrew and Nathan say they hope you are well and they miss you. Aunt Olivia, too. She helped me write this letter—a little bit. Miss Josephine and I miss you very much and we love you too.

Very sincerely,

Callie Eugenia Albright

By the time Stephen reached the end of the letter, his throat was all but closed from the lump stuck in it, and his eyes were suspiciously moist. Damn dust in this room. Didn't Justin ever have the bloody place properly cleaned? He shook his head and quickly swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. He must have lost an abundance of blood during his scuffle with Melissa. How else could he explain being so undone by the child's letter?

"What did Hayley write?" Justin's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Nothing."

"If you don't wish to tell me—"

"No, it is not that. I mean that literally. The letter wasn't from Hayley."

"Then who was it from?" Justin asked. "The messenger said it was sent from Miss Albright."

"And it was. Miss
Callie
Albright."

Justin raised his brows. "Callie? The little girl? The one with the fiendish, stick-to-your-ass torture chairs and the penchant for tea parties?"

"The very same."

Justin appeared at a loss for words. "I thought for sure—"

"You thought wrong," Stephen said in a tight voice. "I told you when we spoke earlier in the week there was no hope for anything between Hayley and myself. She loathes me. She must, after the way I left Halstead and the things I said to her in the garden."

"Has it occurred to you to apologize to her?"

"There's no point. She said she never wanted to lay eyes on me again."

Justin leveled a penetrating glare at him. "Good God, Stephen, she saved your life. Even after you said those things."

"She'd have done the same thing for anyone," Stephen insisted stubbornly. "That's just the sort of person she is. Caring and totally unselfish."

"Yes. And I'm certain she is also understanding and forgiving."

"The things I said to her
…
believe me, they were unforgivable. You didn't see the look on her face, Justin. She looked at me like I was something found floating belly-up in the
Thames
, and it was no less than I deserved."

"You
didn't see her face when we didn't know if you would live or die."

Stephen raked his hands through his hair, wincing when he brushed his wound. He'd been over this a thousand times in his mind. It was all he thought about. Because of his own stupidity, Hayley was lost to him.

Rising, he poured himself another brandy and looked out the window. The sun was shining brightly, bathing
London
's finest in a golden glow as they strolled into
Hyde Park
, but Stephen saw none of it.

"She didn't stay with me, Justin. Both you and Victoria asked her to, but she left."

"Not until she knew you would recover. And she has an entire household to look after. She
had
to go."

"She wanted to go. To get away from me."

"Perhaps," Justin conceded, "but can you really blame her?"

Stephen drained his glass. "No. I treated her terribly. I've told you more than once, she's better off without me."

"Hmmm
…
perhaps you're right. It seems a Mr. Popplemore is spending quite a bit of time at Albright Cottage. Since Pamela appears taken, and Aunt Olivia is a bit long in the tooth, I can only assume Hayley is the main attraction."

At the mention of "Mr. Popplemore," Stephen whirled around from the window. Justin held Callie's letter and was avidly scanning the contents.

"I don't
recall giving you permission to read my letter," Stephen said in a frigid voice.

Justin beamed a smile at him. "Quite all right. I never asked for permission. So who is this Popplemore fellow? A suitor?"

Hot jealousy sizzled through Stephen. "A former suitor," he bit out.

Justin's brows rose. "Indeed? Former? Sounds quite current according to little Callie. She says he stops over nearly
every
day. Imagine that."

"Justin." Stephen's voice held an unmistakable warning.

Justin's eyes opened wide, his face a blank mask of innocence. "I am merely reading the child's own words. If you're content to let this Popplemore fellow court the woman you love, far be it from me to comment or cast aspersions on your decision. You obviously know what is best for you."

Stephen slammed his glass down on Justin's desk. "Yes. I do."

Justin waggled the letter in the air. "I take it then that you're not going to do anything about this?"

Stephen stalked forward and snatched the letter from between Justin's fingers. "There's nothing I can do."

"Actually, there is quite a bit you could do."

"Leave it alone, Justin. It's better this way."

"Better? Really? For whom? According to that letter, Hayley appears miserable, and it's very obvious that you are in a bad way—"

"I am
not
in a bad
way."

They stared at each other for a long moment. "As you wish, Stephen. But
I
think you are making a big mistake."

"Noted."

"In truth, it really doesn't matter to me.
I
have enough to keep me busy, trying to keep
Victoria
in hand, without concerning myself with your
affairs."

"Exactly."

"That wife of mine could test the patience of a saint, always haring off and involving herself in one scrape or another. Why look how she finagled Hayley here for that party—"

At that moment a great disturbance was heard on the other side of the room. Stephen and Justin turned their heads and watched as a small door tucked into the corner of the far wall was thrown open.

Victoria
toppled head first into the room. With a startled cry, she landed on the carpet in an ignominious heap, the air whooshing from her lungs. "Blasted unsturdy door!"

"
Victoria
!" Justin exclaimed, rushing to her side. "Are you hurt?" He reached to assist her, but
Victoria
slapped his hands away.

"Unhand me, you
…
you
…
oohhh!" She pushed herself to her knees and swiped her hair out of her face with an impatient hand. "Do not even
think
of touching me, you
cad. You bounder." She struggled to her feet, breathing
heavily.

Jerking her skirts back into place, she stomped over to her stunned husband and halted directly in front of him. "Test the patience of a saint, could
I?
Of all the unmitigated gall. I'll have you know there's no need for you to 'keep
Victoria
in hand.' I am perfectly capable of seeing after myself, thank you very much."

She stalked over to her brother and thrust her chin upward. "And
you!
You are the most stubborn, pigheaded, foolish, idiotic
dolt
I've ever had the misfortune to meet." She punctuated each of her insults with a sharp stab of her index finger into the center of Stephen's chest.

"Ouch!" Stephen rubbed his offended skin and scowled at her. Did every damn woman he knew feel compelled to jab him? "This habit of listening at doors is quite unladylike, Sister, dear."

Victoria
sniffed and raised her chin another notch. "It is the only way
I
am able to find anything out around here, and
I
must say, I cannot believe what I just heard.
I
can't credit it that you won't go to Hayley and explain yourself."