Red Roses Mean Love

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  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?

  SHAPE * MERGEFORMAT

  Chapter 29

  " What 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'reeven 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."

  "Youdidn'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."

  "I don't owe you an explanation, Victoria," Stephen said in a tight voice. "If you both will excuse me, I shall take my leave." He turned to go.

  Victoria grabbed his arm and jerked hard. "Not until you listen to what I have to say."

  Stephen halted and looked down at her hand clutching his sleeve, then sighed. "Very well. Say what you must, but say it quickly. I'm leaving here in exactly two minutes."

  "As you know, I am acquainted with Hayley," Victoria said, not hesitating for a moment. "I think she's wonderful. She's lovely, intelligent, kind, and generous, but that is not what's most important."

  "Indeed?" Stephen asked in a bored tone. "And what, pray tell, do you deem most important?"

  "She loves you, Stephen."

  "I sincerely doubt it."

  Victoria was so frustrated, she stamped her foot. "God in heaven, Stephen, you are such a fool. She sat in this very room and told me she loves you. She's told you herself. And what's more, you love her." She shook his sleeve, but Stephen remained stonily silent. "You can deny it all you want," she continued, "but why you'd want to is a mystery to me. She saved your life, not once but twice. She deserves better than what you've given her. You were happy with her during your stay in Halstead. And anyone with two eyes can plainly see that now you're miserable. Go see her. Talk to her. She came to you once, but you sent her away. You must go to her."

  "She doesn't want to see me," Stephen said through clenched teeth.

  "How do you know?" Victoria all but shouted. "Have you even once considered her feelings? The child's note says Hayley is miserable. And what of this other man? This Popple person. Can you really stand the thought of another man courting her? Marrying her? Loving her?"

  Reaching up, she laid a gentle hand against his cheek, but she was prepared to beat him if she had to. "How can you let someone else have her when you want her so badly yourself?" she asked softly. "Don't deny yourself happiness, Stephen. I honestly believe one word from you explaining why you behaved as you did, and she would forgive you. Love is a gift. Don't throw it away."

  She turned to her husband. "Don't think for even one moment I've forgotten what you said about me. I am, however, quite exhausted from dealing with my clod of a brother. I need a restorative cup of tea before dealing with my clod of a husband." Gathering her skirts, she swept from the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

  Stephen stared at the closed door. "I feel as if a carriage just ran over me."

  "Indeed. It ran over you, then backed up and finished me off."

  Stephen slowly turned and faced Justin. "Your wife called me a clod."

  "Your sister called me a cad."

  "She also called me a dolt."

  "You are a dolt," Justin said with a perfectly straight face.

  "That wife of yours is much too impertinent and has entirely too much time on her hands. She needs a project or hobby-something to keep her busy and I would hope keep her mouth closed." He shot Justin a pointed glare. "Perhaps a child might do the trick. Give Victoria something to do besides listen at doors."

  "An excellent suggestion," Justin agreed, a wicked gleam lighting his eyes. "In fact, since you're on your way out, I believe I'll pay my wife a visit and revive her flagging spirits with something a bit more interesting than a cup of tea." He started toward the door. "You are leaving, are you not?"

  Stephen nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes I am. In fact I have a great deal to do."

  "Indeed? What are you planning?"

  "It appears I have some shopping to do."

  Justin raised his brows. "Shopping?"

  "Yes. I've been invited to a birthday party. I certainly can't show up empty-handed now, can I?"

  Justin looked at him for a long moment, his eyes reflecting quiet understanding. Stephen kept his expression carefully neutral.

  "No," Justin finally said, laying a hand on Stephen's shoulder. "You certainly can't show up empty-handed."

  SHAPE * MERGEFORMAT

  Chapter 30

  Stephen stood outside Albright Cottage the next afternoon, clutching two packages. He stared at the front door, his stomach churning. Everything he wanted was inside that house. Things he hadn't known he wanted until he'd experienced them and then lost them. After the tongue-lashing Victoria had treated him to, he'd realized he had to come here. If nothing else, he at least owed Hayley the truth about himself, about why he'd lied to her, and an apology for the things he'd said to her in Justin's garden. If she still hated him after they spoke, well, then it was no less than he deserved. But he was certainly hoping, praying, for a different outcome.

  Balancing the gaily wrapped parcels in his arms, he knocke
d on the door. After a moment, the door was flung open. Grimsley stood on the threshold, squinting.

  "Yes, yes, who's there?" the elderly man asked, patting his jacket and frowning. "Blast! Where the devil are my spectacles?"

  "They're on top of your head, Grimsley," Stephen said, unable to keep from grinning. God, it felt so good to be back here.

  Grimsley patted his head, found the glasses and perched them on the end of his long nose. When he saw Stephen, his wrinkled face collapsed into an expression that could only be described as distasteful. He opened his mouth to speak, but a booming voice cut off his words.

  "Who the bloody hell is it and wot the bloody hell do they want?" Winston appeared in the doorway. His eyes narrowed to slits when he saw Stephen. "Drop me from the crow's nest and feed me to the fishes! If it ain't his bleedin' high holy lordship."

  Stephen actually felt himself blush under the heat of their scathing gazes. It appeared everyone he came in contact with was intent on giving him a severe dressing-down. "How are you, Grimsley? Winston?"

  "We were quite well until we found you standing on the doorstep," Grimsley said with a disdainful sniff.

  "Why are you 'ere?" Winston demanded. "Haven't you caused 'er enough pain?"

  Although Stephen understood their anger, he had no desire to discuss his shortcomings while standing outside. "May I come in?"

  Grimsley pursed his lips, looking as if he'd just bit into a sour pickle. "Certainly not. There's a party about to start out back, and everyone is very busy." He started to close the door.

  Stephen stuck his foot in the opening. "I have a great deal to atone for and I can hardly do that if I'm forced to stand outside."

  A snort escaped Grimsley. "Atone?"

  Winston crossed his beefy tattooed arms across his chest. "I'd like to see ya try."

  "So would I," Stephen said quietly. "Will you let me?" He was prepared to push his way in if he had to, but he fervently hoped it wouldn't come to that. He seriously questioned his chances of getting by Winston, who looked as if he'd relish the opportunity to chew Stephen up, spit him out, then bury him in a deep hole.