"Hayley. He does. You know he does. Come. I'll go with you."
* * *
Standing next to the bed, looking down at Stephen, Hayley experienced a strange sense of history repeating itself. A white bandage swathed his head, a lock of raven hair falling over it. His features were relaxed, his breathing even. He looked exactly like the man she'd rescued and nursed in her home. Was it only a few short weeks ago? It feels like a lifetime.
In less than a month her entire world had changed, lifting her to the heights of ecstasy, only to drown her in the depths of despair. She'd fallen deeply, madly, irrefutably in love with a stranger, a man she'd discovered she didn't know at all. A man who'd made it abundantly clear tonight that she meant nothing to him and he wanted nothing to do with her. If only you were the person I thought you were, a simple tutor, a man with no family who needed me. Who wanted me. As I wanted and needed you. A single tear escaped her, slipping slowly down her cheek. Don't wish for what you can't have.
Hayley turned from the bed and walked to the door. She paused for a moment, looking back at the man who lay there. She mourned the loss of Stephen Barrettson, the man she'd loved. She wished the Marquess of Glenfield a long and happy life. Whoever he was.
She closed the door softly behind her.
Chapter 28
« ^ »
A full week passed before Hayley started to feel a bit like her old self again. She didn't exactly feel good, but at least she didn't feel quite so bad. Her chest still ached when she thought of Stephen, but she resolutely forced her mind away from him.
Fortunately, there were many things to keep her occupied, the most important of which was Callie's seventh birthday. Hayley went to a great deal of trouble planning the party, in part to make the day memorable for Callie, but also because the event gave her something to focus on. The whole family was busy making gifts and finding inventive places to hide them from Callie's inquisitive eyes.
"I can't find any of my presents," Callie complained the day before the party.
"You're not supposed to find them," Hayley said with a smile. "No presents until tomorrow."
"I've searched everywhere. Even in Winston's quarters." Callie leaned close and whispered, "He keeps sketches of half-dressed ladies under his stockings."
Hayley's smile faded. "Callie. It's very impolite to look through other people's belongings. I'm sure those ladies are, er, friends of Winston's."
"Oh, I don't think so. They looked very naughty and—"
"Why don't we find Pamela and the boys and give Winky, Pinky, and Stinky a bath?" Hayley suggested in a desperate voice. "They cannot attend the party if they're all dirty."
"Indeed not," Callie agreed, her attention diverted. "Especially Stinky."
"Especially Stinky," Hayley echoed.
Less than half an hour later, the Albrights descended en masse at the lake, buckets and soap in hand. They whistled for the dogs, and moments later the three huge beasts barreled out of the forest. The boys filled the buckets and dumped water on the dogs as they ran by.
Winky, Pinky, and Stinky knew this game, and with tails wagging they barked loudly, splashing in the water, trying to eat the soapsuds. Everyone was laughing, breathless, and soaking wet when an amused voice broke into the gaiety.
"It seems I find the Albright ladies in the most appalling condition every time I call."
Everyone turned around. Marshall Wentbridge stood about twenty feet away, smiling broadly.
Pamela's face turned bright red and she sent Hayley a look of agonized chagrin.
"Hello, Marshall," Hayley called, waving to him. She shot Pamela a quick sideways wink. "Would you care to join us?"
Marshall approached them, removing his jacket as he walked, his eyes fixed on Pamela. After setting his jacket on the grass, he waded into the water up to his knees without the slightest hesitation. "What can I do?" he asked, a devilish grin on his handsome face.
Hayley tossed him a wet rag, which slapped against his shirt, soaking him. "Catch a dog, any dog, and try to clean it." She shot him a jaunty salute. "Good luck."
It took the six of them over an hour to see any improvement in the dogs' appearance. No sooner would they catch one dog and clean him than the blasted beast would run into the forest and return covered with mud and leaves.
But finally, the animals quieted down, and amid much laughing and frivolity the dogs were bathed. Once the deed had been completed, Hayley sent Callie and the boys on ahead to clean up and change their clothes. She bent down and gathered up the rags and buckets and remnants of soap. When she stood, she saw Pamela and Marshall standing a short distance away. They stood very close to each other, their hands joined. Hayley quickly looked away, not wanting to interrupt their privacy.
She hastily collected the rest of the supplies and was just about to start back to the house when Pamela and Marshall approached her. Hayley couldn't help but notice their beaming faces and clasped hands.
She had to fight to keep from laughing outright at Marshall's disheveled appearance. He looked most distinctly undoctorly. She wondered what his colleagues at the Royal College of Physicians would think if they could see him now.
"It was very good of you to help us bathe the dogs," Hayley said to him with a smile.
Marshall grinned. "I can't remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much."
Hayley picked up the buckets. "Well, if you two will excuse me, I'm badly in need of cleaning up myself."
"If you don't mind," Marshall said in a rush, "I'd like to talk to you for a moment."
Setting the buckets down, Hayley gave him her full attention. "Of course, Marshall."
He cleared his throat several times. "Well, um, in the absence of a mother or father in your household, and as you are the adult in charge—" He broke off his halting words and cleared his throat again, his face growing redder by the minute. "That being the case, I would like you to know that I have asked Pamela to marry. Me." He cleared his throat again.
Hayley truly had to struggle to keep a straight face. The two of them looked so utterly bedraggled standing before her, hands clasped tightly together, their love for each other shining brightly on their wet faces. She turned her attention to Pamela.
"Do you want to marry Marshall, Pamela?" Hayley asked in what she hoped was a serious voice.
Pamela nodded so vigorously, Hayley feared she'd render herself dizzy. "Oh, yes."
Hayley turned her attention back to Marshall. "Why do you want to marry my sister?"
"Because I love her," he answered without hesitation. "I want to share my life with her. I want her to be my wife."
Hayley smiled. "That's all I need to know." Reaching out, she hugged them both at the same time. "I'm very happy for you," she said, blinking back tears. Everything I wanted for her is coming true. Wiping her eyes, Hayley chuckled. "It just occurred to me, Pamela, that we spent a fortune on new clothes for you, and look at how the main proposes. You smell like a dog and look like a drowned cat."
Pamela laughed and raised shining eyes to Marshall, who hugged her to his side.
"But a very beautiful drowned cat," he said. His gaze settled on Pamela's upturned face and his merriment faded. "Very beautiful."
Hayley was smart enough to know when her presence was no longer required, and this was definitely one of those times. She quickly excused herself, leaving Pamela and Marshall alone. She trudged up the path toward the house, lugging the buckets and rags. Just before the path veered off, she glanced back.
Pamela and Marshall were locked in a tight embrace and Marshall was kissing her sister in what appeared to be a most thorough manner. Hayley turned and resumed walking. She knew what a wonderful, euphoric feeling it was to be held in the arms of the man you loved.
She thanked God Pamela's happiness was real and not an illusion.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Hayley crouched in her flower garden, unenthusiastically pulling up weeds. The activity was too slow and too solitary,
and too easily lent itself to introspection. Introspection, Hayley had found, was not good. It led to one place and one place only.
Stephen.
And thoughts of Stephen led to one place and one place only.
Heartache.
After the frivolity of the dog bath, pulling weeds was much too tame. Perhaps some writing would take her mind off those things she didn't want to think about. Sighing, she stood and yanked off her leather gardening gloves.
"Hello, Hayley."
Startled, she turned around. "Good heavens, Jeremy. You gave me quite a fright."
He smiled at her. "I'm sorry. Your garden looks lovely."
"Thank you. It gives me great pleasure." In truth, she could barely stand to look at the flowers, but she didn't have the heart to let them die from neglect. "Did you wish to speak to me?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did." He extended his elbow. "Would you care to take a stroll?"
Hayley hesitated briefly, then shrugged. Anything to keep her mind occupied. "All right." She dropped the gloves in her basket, and took Jeremy's arm.
They strolled slowly along, making idle conversation, until Jeremy finally paused. He turned to face her, and Hayley noticed the deep frown creasing his brow.
"Good heavens, Jeremy, you look as if the world is coming to an end. Is something amiss?"
"No, it's just that I have something very important to say to you."
"By all means, please tell me."
He abruptly clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing in front of her. "I've been thinking about you a great deal since my return to Halstead."
Hayley's brows rose in surprise. "You have?"
Jeremy nodded, never slowing his pacing. "Yes. In fact, I thought about you often while I was abroad, as well." He paused and glanced at her. "Did you think of me at all?"
Of course. I wanted to beat you with a skillet for deserting me. "Yes. Sometimes."
A breath whooshed from his lungs. "Excellent. As I said, since my return I've been thinking about you, or rather about us—about the way things were between us before I went abroad. When I left, I was considerably younger and quite wet behind the ears." A red flush stained his cheeks. "What I mean to say is, I'm not a boy anymore. Three years ago, I wasn't prepared to take on the responsibility of your entire family." He ran his finger around his neckcloth. "I believe I'm ready now."
Hayley simply stared at him. "I don't understand."
"Pamela will certainly be married soon, especially if Marshall Wentbridge has anything to say about it—"
"He proposed to Pamela earlier today," Hayley broke in. "She accepted."
A triumphant smile curved his lips. "There! You see!"
"Actually, no—"
"Andrew and Nathan are quite self-sufficient and nearly grown, and Callie is no longer a baby." Reaching out, he clasped her shoulders. "In other words, the things which overwhelmed and intimidated me three years ago no longer overwhelm or intimidate me."
Hayley stared at him blankly. "What are you saying?"
"I want you to marry me."
Her stare turned to slack-jawed amazement.
Jeremy's hands tightened on her shoulders and he pulled her closer to him. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips gently over hers several times in a series of chaste kisses before pulling back.
His mouth curved upward in a grin. "I can see by your stunned expression that I've surprised you."
"You've completely staggered me," she managed to say when she could speak again.
"But not displeased you, I hope."
"No, I'm not displeased," she said carefully, trying to corral her scattered thoughts. "I'm shocked."
Jeremy took her cold hands and squeezed them tightly. "I've always cared for you, Hayley, you know I have." He brought her hands to his lips and fervently kissed the backs of her fingers. "It wasn't until I left that I realized how wonderful and very special you are. How honest and caring." He gathered her into his arms and hugged her. "And innocent."
Hayley's face flamed. Innocent? Closing her eyes, she fought back the half laugh, half sob that bubbled up in her throat. Dear God, the irony of this! Three years ago she'd have given anything to hear these words from Jeremy. Now it was too late.
He wanted an innocent, a virgin, and he had every reason and right to expect she was just that. And I am anything but. Her wedding night would surely be one of dubious outcome, one that would bring shame and humiliation to both of them. She absolutely could not consider marrying him.
And there was her secret identity of H. Tripp to consider as well. That information would not only scandalize Jeremy, it would also disabuse him of his opinion that she was honest.
Stepping back from his embrace, she said, "Jeremy, I—"
He placed a gentle fingertip over her lips, halting her words. "I don't want an answer right now." A half-smile quirked his lips. "Especially if the answer is no. Think about it, Hayley. We'd suit very well together." He touched her cheek. "I want to take care of you."
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
« ^ »
"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 sympath
y. "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.
RED ROSES MEAN LOVE Page 30
