Red Roses Mean Love (23 page)

"In accordance with our plan, I mentioned to your staff and family that you've traveled to the Continent," Justin reported. "No one questioned the story, but Gregory has asked me several times about your specific whereabouts. I told him you preferred not to mention your exact location as you were enjoying a private holiday with your latest mistress."

A warm flush crept up Stephen's neck at the near accuracy of Justin's story. He cleared his throat. "With
Lawrence
dead, Gregory is now our most likely suspect."

"Inheriting several million pounds, along with numerous estates and titles is a powerful motive for murder," Justin agreed.

"But Gregory doesn't need the money."

"I would not be so sure about that, Stephen. I heard he owes a substantial amount at White's, and he's been seen frequenting some disreputable gaming hells. But regardless, I think it's time you returned to
London
. If
Lawrence
was our man, the threat to your life is gone. If Gregory is the culprit, we need to find out." He eyed Stephen's midsection. "Are your ribs sufficiently healed to allow you to travel on horseback?"

Stephen nodded absently. "I suppose. What if it's someone else altogether? Not Lawrence or Gregory?"

"Then we need to know that as well," Justin said. "As much as I don't wish to place you in danger, we're not going to accomplish anything with you out here. It's time to come home."

Home.
Reality struck him like a bolt of lightning. Over
the past two weeks he'd become so involved with Hayley and her family, he'd nearly forgotten his life in
London
. A life that included a cold-blooded killer.

Home.
A large, perfectly run town house on
Park Lane
in
London
. The epitome of elegance, with a perfectly trained staff who catered to his every need. No children underfoot, no unruly dogs, deaf aunties, or irreverent servants.

Stephen slowly nodded. "Yes, I suppose it is indeed time to go home." The words brought with them an aching emptiness.

"Excellent. Shall I wait while you gather your things? Or perhaps I can lend you a hand?" Justin asked, standing up.

Stephen looked at him blankly. "I beg your pardon?"

"Do you require help getting your clothes together?"

Stephen slowly rose to his feet, a frown tugging between his brows. "I cannot leave with you today, Justin."

Justin's brows rose in surprise. "Why not?"

"There are some things I must take care of here before I leave," Stephen said vaguely, disgusted when he felt his face grow warm.

"Such as?" Justin peered at him. "Egad man! Are you
blushing?"

"Of course not," Stephen denied hotly, walking down the path toward the house. "I simply cannot depart today."

"All right. Tomorrow."

"I cannot leave until the day after."

"Why?"

"None of your
damn
business,"
Stephen bit out, but then
he relented. "I promised to escort Hayley and her sister to a party tomorrow evening, hence my request for the dress. I cannot break my promise."

"I see," Justin
said, eyeing him up and down. "And how
are you getting along with Miss Albright?"

"Pamela Albright
is a lovely young woman," Stephen
said, purposely misunderstanding the
query. He started
walking faster.

"Pamela
is not the Miss Albright I
was referring to, as you very well know," Justin said, falling into step beside him.

"Hayley and I are getting along fine," Stephen answered in a terse tone that discouraged further questions. Justin completely ignored his tone.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to see her on this visit."

"She didn't know you were coming."

"Really? Why didn't you tell her? Did you purposely hope to keep me from running into her?" Justin asked. "Were you afraid I'd notice something in her demeanor? Or yours perhaps?"

Stephen halted and leveled an even look on his friend. Damn Justin and his deadly accuracy. "I have no intention of discussing Hayley with you, Justin."

Justin paused and studied him carefully. Stephen schooled his features into blandness. He didn't understand his own feelings regarding Hayley, and he sure as hell wasn't going to try to explain them to Justin.

"As you wish, Stephen," Justin said with a bow of his head. They resumed walking. "Of course, as you don't wish to discuss Miss Albright, I suppose you wouldn't be interested in the fact that I found out something rather interesting about her."

"About Hayley?" Stephen asked, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

"Umm hmm," Justin said, ambling along as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"Well?" Stephen asked impatiently when his friend remained silent.

"I thought you didn't want to talk about her."

"I changed my mind," Stephen all but growled. Damn it, sometimes Justin was a cursed pest.

"Ah, well in that case, I shall tell you. I made some inquiries, very discreetly, mind you, and I discovered Hayley's father left the family in debt when he died."

A frown pinched Stephen's brows. "He did?"

"Yes. Apparently, after the sale of his ship, there was just enough money to pay off Tripp Albright's debts. The family inheritance amounted to less than a hundred pounds in total."

"Then how have they managed to live?" Stephen asked, confused. "They must receive an income from somewhere. Perhaps from the mother's family? Or her grandparents? Maybe Aunt Olivia?"

"I don't think so," Justin said, shaking his head. "None of my inquiries yielded anything of that sort."

"I know they aren't wealthy, but they get money from somewhere. You must have missed something, Justin."

"Perhaps."

By this time they'd reached the stables. After retrieving his gelding, Justin swung himself into the saddle. "I'll expect you back in
London
the day after tomorrow, Stephen." He tipped his hat and shot Stephen a broad wink. "Enjoy your party."

Stephen watched Justin gallop off, then he turned toward the house, clutching the package of clothing to his chest.

He would be back in
London
the day after tomorrow.

He should be thrilled.

So why the hell was he so depressed?

Chapter 17

«
^
»

H
ayley entered her bedchamber later that afternoon, and a confused frown furrowed her brow.
Where on earth did that package on my bed come from?

Pulling the plainly wrapped bundle toward her, she plucked a small card from beneath the string binding it. She broke the seal and read the words:
For Hayley, with my deepest gratitude, Stephen.

Stephen had given her a present.

She'd tried all day to banish thoughts of him and last night's passionate exchange, but he crowded every crevice of her mind. His smile, his eyes, teasing one minute, dark with desire the next. The touch of his hands, the taste of his mouth
…
she squeezed her eyes shut. She had to stop thinking about it. But how?

She clutched the bundle to her chest, her breath expelling from her lungs in a whoosh. She placed the package back on the bed and untied the ribbon, with shaking fingers. Folding the paper back, she stared in awe at the contents, then lifted the most beautiful gown she'd ever seen from the wrapping. Yards and yards of soft muslin fell to the floor, in the palest shade of aqua imaginable. The dress had short puffed sleeves adorned with cream-colored ribbons. The bodice was low, an ivory ribbon gathering the material just below the bust, and embroidered with a border of dark violet and cream flowers.

The flowers were pansies.

The same border of pansies adorned the hem of the dress, with vines of embroidered pale green ivy trailing down the skirt. Hayley held the gown up to her, and looked down, unable to believe her eyes. It appeared to be the right length, the hemline just brushing the tops of her sensible brown leather shoes.

She quickly rid herself of her dusty brown gown and reverently slipped the aqua creation over her head. The dress fit her as if it had been made for her. Scarcely able to breathe, she walked to the full-length mirror in the corner of her room.

The low bodice showed off an expanse of skin that made her blush. The soft material fell to her feet from the ivory ribbon beneath her bosom. Hayley tentatively fingered one of the embroidered pansies on the bodice, unable to believe that she was wearing such a beautiful dress. She felt like a princess.

A knock sounded at the door. "Come in," she called in a distracted voice, unable to tear her gaze from her reflection.

"Hayley, could you—" Pamela halted as she caught sight of her sister standing before the mirror. "Hayley! What an exquisite gown. Where on earth did you get it?"

Hayley turned and stared at her sister. "It was a gift."

"A gift? From who?" Pamela touched the beautiful muslin with a single finger.

"From Stephen," Hayley said softly: "Stephen gave it to me."

Pamela's jaw dropped. "Where on earth did he get it? And how could he afford such a dress? It must have cost a small fortune."

Hayley shook her head. "I have no idea. All I know is this package was here when I returned from the village. He included a card. It's there on the bed."

Pamela went to the bed, picked up the card and read the single line. She looked at the bundle on Hayley's bed and gasped. "Did you see the rest of this?"

"The rest of what?" Hayley asked absently. She couldn't get over the dress long enough to think of anything else.

"Look at this," Pamela breathed. "Did you ever see anything so lovely?"

Hayley turned and gaped. Pamela held a chemise in front of her. The undergarment was pure white and woven so delicately, it appeared nearly transparent.

"Good heavens," Hayley exclaimed, joining her sister. One by one they lifted the remaining items from the package. Sheer silk stockings, ivory satin garters adorned with pale aqua ribbons, and a pair of pale aqua satin slippers. Hayley slipped the shoes onto her feet. They were a perfect fit.

"Oh, Hayley," Pamela breathed. "He must have bought you this to wear to the party tomorrow. How incredibly romantic."

"I cannot believe it," Hayley said, dazed. "How did he do it? Where did he get it? How did he know just the right sizes to buy?" She blushed as she recalled that Stephen had touched nearly every part of her body. He, more than anyone else, would be able to make a fairly accurate guess as to her sizes.

"He must care for you very much," Pamela said softly. She grasped Hayley's hands and squeezed them tightly. "I'm so happy for you. I like Mr. Barrettson very much, and if he makes you happy, then I welcome him with open arms."

Hayley raised startled eyes from the wonder of the slippers to Pamela's shining face. "Do you really think he cares for me?"

"Of course," Pamela said without a trace of doubt. "A man would never give a woman a gift such as this unless he cared for her deeply." Her gaze drifted to the undergarments spread across the bed. "Very deeply."

Hayley closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. "Oh, Pamela. I hope you're right. Dear God, I hope you're right."

"Of course I'm right." Pamela gave her a quick hug. "Now let's get this gown off you before we ruin it." She helped Hayley remove the garment and hang it in her wardrobe.

"Just wait until Mr. Barrettson sees you in that gown. He's going to fall to his knees and profess his undying affection," Pamela predicted, handing over the undergarments, which Hayley carefully placed in her dresser drawer.

"I hope the shock of seeing me garbed in something other than basic brown doesn't cause his heart to stop," Hayley said with a laugh.

"I think Mr. Barrettson's heart is going to be much too busy beating furiously to even consider stopping."

Hayley couldn't erase the radiant smile she knew lit her face at Pamela's words. She redressed quickly, intending to go to the stables.

Arm in arm, she and Pamela left the room and walked down the stairs. They met Stephen in the foyer. With a shy smile Pamela excused herself, leaving Stephen and Hayley alone.

Hayley opened her mouth to thank him for her gift, but the words fled her mind when she noticed the parade of scabs dotting his jaw. "Good heavens. What happened to your face?"

A rueful laugh escaped him. "I shaved."

"Did you hurt yourself?"

"Just my pride. I fear shaving is not an activity I excel at."

"Then why
…
?"
Her voice trailed off as she realized why. "Did you shave because of what Aunt Olivia said?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps. And Andrew requested a shaving lesson. I'm afraid the lad's face bears as many nicks as mine, but all in all we managed quite well."

Hayley's heart faltered. Dear God, he was wonderful. Cutting his face to ribbons trying to please an old woman and an adolescent boy. She briefly wondered why he was so inept at a masculine activity he'd surely been performing for years, but she didn't question him. Clearly his lack of ability embarrassed him and she had no wish to make him uncomfortable.

Laying her hand on his sleeve, she said, "Please allow me to assist you next time. I shudder to think of you and Andrew slitting your throats."

"Agreed."

A warm blush crept up her face. "Stephen, I found the gown. It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen
…
that I could ever imagine. No one has ever given me anything so wonderful. Or so extravagant." Thinking of the sheer stockings, she flushed hotter. "I don't know what to say, or how to thank you."

Stephen touched her face with a gentle finger. "You don't have to say anything, and you can thank me by wearing it tomorrow evening to Mrs. Smythe's party."

"Where did you get it?
How
did you get it? Why—"

"I wrote to Justin, told him very specifically what I wanted, and he brought it here earlier today. As for why—well, I suppose I just wanted you to have a dress that wasn't brown or gray. I wanted you to look as beautiful as you are. I've wondered what you would look like in a gown the same color as your eyes."

A nervous laugh escaped her. "I hope you're not disappointed."

Stephen shook his head, his eyes dark and serious as they rested on hers. "You could never disappoint me, Hayley."

Pleasure washed through her at his words. Before she could even fashion a reply, he leaned forward, his gaze riveted on her mouth. Dear God, he was going to kiss her! Right here in the foyer!

Heart pounding, she lifted her face. He was only a breath away. He was—

"Strap me to the longboat and dump me in the sea!" bellowed Winston.

Hayley gasped and stepped back from Stephen so quickly, she nearly stumbled. She turned and sagged with relief when she realized the salty sailor was struggling with several boxes that blocked his view of the foyer.

Winston caught sight of her and Stephen. "How about lendin' yerself for a minute, Mr. Barrettson? These boxes aren't 'eavy, but they're big, and that wispy bag o' bones is nowhere to be found."

"Glad to help," Stephen said. He turned to Hayley. "Where are you going?"

"The stables. I thought I'd exercise Pericles." Dear God, he'd nearly kissed her in the foyer in the broad light of day! Even more shocking was the realization that she'd desperately wanted him to. If Winston hadn't interrupted them, she probably would have thrown her arms around Stephen's neck and kissed him until she forgot her own name.

"I'll help Winston, then come out later and see how you're doing. Enjoy your ride."

"Thank you." Pulling herself together, Hayley headed outdoors. Almost kissed in the foyer. Merciful heavens, she'd lost her mind. Callie had nearly discovered them last night, a mistake she'd vowed not to repeat, yet she'd nearly done just that. Shaking her head, she reminded herself that she was supposed to be staying away from Stephen, a mission she couldn't seem to accomplish for more than two seconds at a time. The longer she knew him, the more time she spent with him, the more impossible it became for her to imagine him leaving.

Heaven help her, she wanted him to stay.

But he would soon return to his own life.

And that's when she discovered that in spite of her best intentions, she'd never learned to stop wanting things she couldn't have.

* * *

After helping Winston with the boxes, Stephen walked down to the stables, but neither Hayley nor Pericles were anywhere in sight. He returned to the house, wandered into the library, and picked up a back issue of
Gentleman's Weekly.
Settling
himself on the brocade settee, he turned to the installment of
A Sea Captain's Adventures.
He was halfway through the story when the words suddenly stilled him. He reread the paragraph again, certain his eyes were deceiving him.

"There's
nothing more wonderful
than
children," Captain Haydon Mills said to his crew. "Why, when each of my five were born, the missus and I looked at them and recalled the moment we'd made them together." His laugh boomed in the sea air. "Named them all based on where we'd loved. Good thing it was never by a stream or the poor thing would have been called '
Atwater
'!"

He stared at the page in stunned amazement while pieces clicked into place.
Atwater
? Naming the children after
where they'd been conceived?
Atwater
? H. Tripp, Tripp Albright, sea captains, Justin's inquiries into the Albright
fi
nancial situation
…
bloody hell! If Hayley wasn't the author of these stories, she certainly had something to do with them.

Is this how she supported the family? By selling stories based on her father's experiences to
Gentleman's Weekly?
He recalled their conversation about
A Sea Captain's Adventures.
She'd taken umbrage when he'd criticized H. Tripp's writing ability, and she'd admitted she read all the stories. Of course she had—she'd written the damn things! Or at the very least, she'd helped someone else write them.

His mind whirled with the implications. Clearly she had
to keep her involvement with the stories a secret.
Gentleman's Weekly
was the most popular magazine among the male members of Society. Every lord he knew read it faithfully, cover to cover. If the esteemed peers of the realm were ever to discover that the stories in their favorite periodical were written by a
woman,
they would be outraged and appalled. Not to mention they would cease buying the publication instantly. Such an occurrence would ruin the magazine
…
and what he imagined was Hayley's sole source of income.