Red Roses Mean Love (8 page)

A slow smile lit Justin's face as Hayley led the huge stallion toward a grassy field. "That is a
most
unusual woman, Stephen."

"Yes, I suppose she is."

"I cannot wait to see what you're going to do about it."

Stephen's back stiffened at the words. "I have no intention of doing anything about it, I assure you," he said in a clipped tone.

"We shall see," said Justin with a chuckle. "We shall see."

Chapter 6

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W
hen the two men arrived back at the house, Hayley served refreshments to Mr. Mallory while Stephen excused himself to change into a set of his own clothing.

While pouring tea, Hayley covertly studied Stephen's friend and had to admit she liked what she saw. Not only was Justin Mallory pleasing to the eye, but he also possessed an easy and friendly manner. His light brown hair fell over his brow, lending him a boyish air, and his hazel eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Indeed, he was almost as handsome as Mr. Barrettson. Almost.

"Here you are, Mr. Mallory," she said, handing him a saucer and cup. "Did you enjoy your walk in the gardens?"

"Very much. I must say, Miss Albright, I owe you a deep debt of gratitude for everything you've done for Stephen. You saved his life."

She waved aside his thanks. "I did nothing more than anyone else would have. I'm just relieved Mr. Barrettson survived. I had my doubts for a while."

"How are his injuries?"

"They're healing nicely. I changed his bandages this morning. He was very lucky he sustained only flesh wounds."

"Indeed. Tell me, Miss Albright, do you recall the exact location where you found Stephen?"

"Of course." She described the location in minute detail while Mr. Mallory listened attentively.

After passing him a plateful of tiny cakes she remarked, "Mallory is a very interesting surname. The German meaning is 'war counselor,' but the Latin translation is 'ill-fated.'"

Justin raised his eyebrows. "Really? I had no idea." A smile touched his lips. "I much prefer the German translation."

She smiled. "I don't blame you."

"You study name origins?"

"Yes. It's a hobby of mine."

"What does my given name mean?" he asked, his eyes warm with curiosity.

"Justin means 'judicious.'"

"Thank goodness. With a surname like 'ill-fated,' I need as much good news as I can get."

"Indeed," Hayley agreed, and they both laughed.

"Tell me, Miss Albright," Justin said when their merriment faded, "was your father by any chance Tripp Albright, the sea captain?"

Surprised pleasure suffused her. "Yes, he was. Did you know my father, Mr. Mallory?"

"No, but I knew
of
him. I understand he was a very fine man."

"He was indeed," she replied around the sudden lump in her throat. "The finest. We all miss him … very much."

"Miss who?" Stephen asked, joining the pair. "Surely not me. Why, I've been gone only several minutes."

"We were speaking of my father…" Hayley began, but her voice, along with her smile, faded when she looked up. Clad in a bright white shirt and buff breeches, both of which fit him to perfection and accentuated his powerful build, Stephen stole the breath from her lungs. He no longer resembled a sick man—rather, with his bandages and beard
lending him a rakish air, he reminded her of a dark, dangerously handsome pirate.

Her gaze traveled up and down his entire length several times. During those seconds, tingling awareness seeped over her. Good heavens, the man was gorgeous. When she finally raised her eyes to his, she found him watching her, an amused smile quirking his lips. Fire burned her cheeks and she jerked her attention back to her teacup. No doubt the man thought she was a blithering dolt, staring at him like he was a feast and she was starving.

Remembering her duty as hostess, she opened her mouth to offer Stephen a cup of tea, but before she could utter a single word, a series of loud exclamations broke the air.

"I
caught the biggest
fish,"
proclaimed a boyish voice.

"But I caught the
most
fish,"
came the indignant reply.

Her brothers burst into view, both filthy, both in high dudgeon. Unfazed by the boys' bedraggled appearance, Hayley merely leaned over and whispered to Mr. Mallory, "My brothers, Andrew and Nathan."

The boys continued their argument as they stomped onto the patio.

"'Methinks thou art a general offence, and every man should beat thee.'" Andrew threw the Shakespearean quote at his younger brother accompanied by a withering look.

"Ha! 'You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave,'" shouted Nathan, clearly not to be outquoted.

"'You would answer very well to a whipping,'" Andrew heaved.

"'You do me most insupportable vexation!'" Nathan heaved back.

"'Your face is not worth sunburning!'"

"'You crusty botch of nature!'"

"Nathan! Andrew! That is quite enough!" Hayley rose and forced a stern look of reproof onto her face. "I didn't teach you Shakespeare so you could hurl insults at each other."

Andrew and Nathan turned to her, their eyes wide with innocence. "You didn't?" they asked simultaneously.

"No. I didn't."

"But those are the best parts," Andrew protested. "No one can insult like the Bard."

"Nevertheless you will cease this moment." She inclined her head in the direction of the table. "We have a guest."

Hayley introduced the boys to Mr. Mallory, then sent them into the house with firm orders to bathe and dress in clean clothes. The boys did as they were bid, muttering under their breath.

"High-spirited boys," Mr. Mallory remarked with a grin.

"You don't know the half of it," she said, shaking her head and looking heavenward. "Just keeping peace between the two of them is exhausting."

"They seem to excel in Shakespearean studies," Mr. Mallory mused, taking a sip of tea. "You taught them, Miss Albright?"

"Yes. My maternal grandfather was a scholar. He passed his teachings on to my mother, and she taught us. I've simply kept up the tradition with my brothers and sisters. As there is no school in the village during the summer months, we have lessons every day in a wide variety of subjects."

"Such as?" Mr. Mallory asked.

"Well, Shakespeare, obviously. Then mathematics, philosophy, mythology, music, astronomy, art"—she shot Stephen an arch look—"and Latin, which perhaps I can assist Mr. Barrettson with. The children all have their special talents. Pamela plays the pianoforte beautifully, and Andrew is a genius with numbers and calculations. Nathan's love is astronomy and he has his very own telescope. Callie loves to draw and paint with watercolors. She is quite good for a little girl."

"And you, Miss Albright," Stephen said, joining in the conversation, "what is your special talent?"

"I am the peacemaker," she answered with a laugh. "I suppose I'm rather like a general in the army. I keep the troops
in
line, issue orders, teach my subordinates, and plan strategic attacks."

"Quite an undertaking," Mr. Mallory observed.

"Indeed, but one I love."

Mr. Mallory consulted his timepiece and rose. "I'm afraid I must leave. I've a long ride ahead of me." He took Hayley's hand and made her a formal bow. "Thank you very much for your kind hospitality, Miss Albright, and for all you've done for Stephen."

Hayley almost felt guilty accepting thanks for caring for Stephen. Indeed, the pleasure was hers. "There's no need for thanks, Mr. Mallory. Caring for Mr. Barrettson has not been a hardship, I assure you."

Mr. Mallory raised his brows. "Frankly, I'm surprised to hear that. Stephen can be somewhat moody, arrogant and cynical," he imparted in a stage whisper, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "but underneath he's quite a good fellow."

Hayley peeked at Stephen and smothered a grin at the scorching frown he sizzled toward his friend.

"Mr. Barrettson is the finest of men," Hayley agreed. She leaned closer to Justin's ear, overcome by an impish desire to see if she could draw a reaction from Stephen. "And he's not really moody, arrogant, and cynical at all. Just lonely."

Mr. Mallory drew back and looked at her, clearly amazed by her words. "Lonely?"

She felt the weight of Stephen's stare and nodded. "He has no family, you know. How fortunate he is to have such a good friend like you."

"Indeed," Mr. Mallory murmured. "I must say it's most kind of you to allow him to stay on here until his injuries are completely healed. My lodgings are, er, much too small and would be very uncomfortable for him for a lengthy stay."

She waved aside his gratitude. "We have plenty of room in this rambling house. Mr. Barrettson is welcome to stay as long as he needs to. The doctor recommends he not attempt riding for several weeks to give his bruised ribs a chance to heal."

Leading the way, Hayley accompanied the men to the stables. Mr. Mallory fetched his mount and again bowed over her hand.

"Please come back and visit," she invited with a smile. She then headed back toward the house. When she turned, she saw the two men talking in the distance. Stephen was scowling and she wondered what they were saying.

* * *

"A very unusual woman," Justin remarked.

Stephen pulled his gaze from her retreating form and looked at his friend. "Yes. Very unusual."

"And extremely intelligent."

"Indeed."

"Quite lovely as well," Justin mused, placing his boot into the stirrup.

Suspecting there was something behind Justin's seemingly innocent observation, Stephen said carefully, "I suppose."

Justin swung into the saddle. "How old do you think she is?"

Now Stephen
knew
something was brewing. "How the hell should I know how old she is?" he asked, unable to mask his irritation. "And why would I care?"

"She
did
save your life, Stephen. I must say your attitude is nothing short of churlish."

"Only because I get the distinct impression you're trying to make something out of nothing—"

"Not at all," Justin broke in smoothly. "I was merely stating the obvious, and wondering how old the lady is. You're just touchy. Quite touchy in fact." A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I wonder why."

"There's no mystery to that. I'm in pain. My head hurts, my ribs throb, and my arm aches like all bloody hell. I'm stiff and sore and had a devil of a time getting dressed without Sigfried. By God, I'll never take my valet for granted again. Even though I firmly believe staying here is the best course of action, I cannot say I relish the thought of all this forced rustication with a houseful of noisy adolescents."

"Well, you'd best get used to the noise, my good man. Either that, or teach them to be quiet. You
are
a tutor, you know."

Stephen sent Justin a withering glare. "Very funny."

"I'll come back a week from today and fill you in on what's happening in
London
. If anything of importance develops before then, I'll either come earlier or send a message."

"Thank you, Justin," Stephen said quietly. "I appreciate all you're doing for me while I sit out here in the country and do nothing at all."

Justin cocked a single brow and cast a meaningful glance at the house. "Is that what you're going to be doing? Nothing at all? I somehow doubt that very much."

"I assume you're making a point?" Stephen asked in his frostiest tone.

"Yes. I quite like that woman, Stephen. I hope you keep in mind that you'll be leaving here in several weeks. It would be a pity indeed if Miss Albright were to lose her heart to you and then be abandoned. In spite of my teasing, it would be best if you left her alone."

Stephen glared at his friend. "Are you utterly mad? I have no intention of seducing her. While I'm grateful to her, she is not my type at all. She's too tall, too outspoken, and much too unconventional."

"From what I can see, she's caring, artless, friendly, and warm. Your normal type is cold, calculating, and morally corrupt." He regarded Stephen with a thoughtful expression. "Perhaps I shouldn't be concerned that Miss Albright will lose her heart to you. It's more likely you will lose your heart to
her."

"Like bloody hell," Stephen muttered.