Red Roses Mean Love

Chapter 22

Several hours later, while Hayley slept, Stephen lay in her bed, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. He felt more alive than he ever had in his life, but his state of euphoria was blasted to hell by the tidal wave of self-loathing washing over him.

Making love to Hayley had been an unforgivable, foolish, not to mention completely selfish, thing to do, but still he was not sorry for it. He tried to dig up some feelings of remorse, but the task proved impossible. The night had been too beautiful, too magical, to spoil with regrets.

It had somehow been inevitable. He'd wanted her from the first minute he saw her asleep on the settee, exhausted from nursing him. Something about her had drawn him right from the start.

The emotions she sparked within him stunned him. He'd never felt anything other than lust for any of his former lovers, women who'd chased him because of who he was. None of those superficial title seekers had touched his heart or engaged his emotions. Would they have pursued him if he weren't a marquess? Perhaps, but certainly as nothing more than a sexual diversion.

But Hayley didn't know who he was. And she'd made him feel things he would have sworn himself incapable of feeling.

Like jealousy. He'd experienced his first unwelcome rush of jealousy the first time she'd mentioned Jeremy Poppledart. The mere idea of another man, any man, touching her filled him with a sick, icy rage.

And then there was his sudden, unprecedented fondness for children, old ladies, and irreverent servants. Where the hell had that come from?

And then there was love.

Callie loved him. And Hayley loved him. A lump the size of a teacup lodged in his throat. Jesus. He was nearly thirty years old and no one had ever said those words to him until he came here. His own family, except Victoria, could barely stand him, yet the Albrights, people he'd known for only a matter of weeks, loved him.

Stephen shook his head, thoroughly confused. He cared deeply for the woman he held in his arms. How could he not? There was not a mean, dishonest bone in her body. But did he love her? He doubted his ability to truly love anyone. His life among the social-climbing, back-stabbing members of Society had left him too cynical. Too jaded. Too morally corrupt to believe in the fairy tale, all-encompassing sort of love poets spouted.

Hayley stirred in her sleep and Stephen's arms tightened around her. He knew she'd be hurt when she discovered him gone, but he had to go. He had a killer to catch, a fact he seemed to forget with frightening ease. He had to concentrate all his energies on discovering his enemy's identity, or else he'd end up dead. Once the person who wanted him dead was apprehended, then he could resume his life.

And Hayley would resume hers. She thought she loved Stephen Barrettson-tutor, but Stephen knew she would loathe Stephen Barrett-Marquess of Glenfield. Maybe she'll find happiness with Poppledink.

The idea filled Stephen with a fire-hot rage, but he fought it. She deserved happiness. He couldn't remain here, and he knew his shallow, pleasure-seeking lifestyle among the ton would appall Hayley. She would not last five minutes with the lecherous rakes and the vicious women. The ton would shun her for all the wonderful, fascinating things that made her unique. Yes, she deserved someone better than him. Whoever the man was who won her, he was going to be one lucky bastard.

As long as I never have to see him with his hands on her.

Then he would be a dead bastard.

Hayley awoke slowly the next morning, warm sunlight pouring through her bedchamber windows. She stretched, her muscles protesting with a highly pleasurable ache. Memory flooded her, and a heated blush suffused her from head to toe. She turned her head, hoping to see Stephen lying next to her, but the bed was empty. She rolled over, laying her head in the indent he'd made on the pillow next to hers and breathed deeply.

The white linen smelled just like him. Clean, woodsy, and musky. Pulling his pillow over her face, she hugged it and sighed with happiness.

Last night Stephen had made her a woman. And she felt like one. A knowing smile touched her lips, recalling the touch of his hands, the taste of his skin, the feel of him deep inside her. A pleasure-filled shudder rippled through her. How on earth was she going to keep the rest of the family from knowing? Surely her face would give her away.

She jumped from the bed and ran to her dressing table. She peered in the mirror, searching for visible signs that she was now a real woman. Strange, she looked exactly the same, except her lips looked swollen and there was a happy gleam in her eye.

Feeling as if she were floating on a cloud, Hayley hurriedly dressed. She wasn't sure what she was going to say to Stephen this morning, but she knew she couldn't wait to see him. Surely after their wondrous night together she could convince him to stay in Halstead. He couldn't possibly consider leaving after what they'd shared.

He'd said he had nothing to offer her, but all she wanted was him. She hugged her arms around herself and spun around the room. Nothing was impossible this morning! And there were countless plans to make! They needed to find Stephen a tutorial position in the area, he had to write and resign from his upcoming post. And dare she even dream there might be a wedding to plan? A tingling shiver ran through her at the thought. There were just so many wonderful things to do!

She'd just finished buttoning her gown when she heard a knock on her door.

"Come in," she called.

Pamela entered the room, an odd, unsettled look on her face.

"Pamela!" Hayley rushed to her and gave her a hug. "How did you enjoy the rest of the party with Marshall?"

A brief smile touched Pamela's lips. "It was wonderful. Hayley-"

"I can't wait to hear all about it. Let's go downstairs and talk over a nice cup of tea." She tugged at Pamela's hand.

"In a minute, Hayley. There's something I need to tell you first."

For the first time since Pamela had entered the room, Hayley noticed her stricken expression. "Is something wrong?"

Pamela handed Hayley an envelope sealed with wax.

"What is this?" Hayley asked in a puzzled voice, turning the letter over in her hands. Her name was written on the front.

"He's gone, Hayley."

"Who?"

"Mr. Barrettson."

Hayley stilled. "What do you mean, gone?"

"His horse is missing from the stable-"

"Perhaps one of the boys or Stephen himself has gone riding," Hayley interrupted, a prickle of dread tensing her shoulder blades.

Pamela shook her head. "Andrew and Nathan reported the horse missing. I went to Mr. Barrettson's bedchamber to see if he'd gone riding. The door was open, so I entered." Pamela took a deep breath and squeezed her hands together. "The room was empty, the bed made. This note, addressed to you, was propped on the mantel."

"That doesn't mean he's gone," Hayley protested.

"His clothes are gone, Hayley."

Nausea gripped Hayley and she pressed her hands to her stomach. "How do you know?"

"The dresser drawers are empty, as is the armoire." Pamela reached out and touched Hayley's sleeve. "I'm so sorry, Hayley."

"I… I must read this note," Hayley said, her mind spinning. "I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation. Would you excuse me for a moment, please, Pamela?"

"Of course. Perhaps I could fix you a cup of tea?"

"Yes," Hayley said, forcing a smile. "A cup of tea would be most welcome."

Pamela left, closing the door softly behind her. Hayley immediately broke the seal on the envelope, her fingers trembling so badly, she nearly tore the paper. Her knees too weak for her to stand, she sank into a chair and pulled out two sheets of paper.

My dearest Hayley,

By the time you read this, I shall be gone from Halstead, a decision I know you won't understand, but one, I pray, you will someday forgive.

Let me begin by saying last night was the most beautiful night of my life. Because of my sudden departure, I realize you probably will not believe that, but I assure you it's true. I know my leaving will hurt you, as it hurts me. Please know that I hate hurting you, but it cannot be helped. My leaving is in no way your fault, nor could you have done anything to prevent it. I knew, we both knew, I would leave someday. That someday just came sooner than we expected.

Or perhaps it came too late. If I'd left before today, last night would not have happened. I will forever cherish the memories of our incredible night together. I'm a selfish bastard for allowing it to happen, but still, I cannot regret it. Obviously I'm not as wonderful as you thought, but then, I never claimed to be.

You are a remarkable, loving woman-the only person I've ever met in my entire life who is truly good. Please find someone else to love-someone who is worthy of you.

If circumstances were different-if my life was not so complicated-perhaps things could have been different, but there are things about me, about my life, you do not know, things that make my staying impossible.

Please forgive me for leaving this way, for saying goodbye with a note, but I wanted my last image of you to be what it is-an angel asleep in my arms. I couldn't bear to see hurt or pain in your eyes.

I thank you and your family for all the kindness you've shown me. You shall always have my gratitude for saving my life. You touched me, Hayley, in places that no one else ever has. And, for what it is worth, I shall never forget you.

With great fondness,

Stephen

Hayley stared at the letter, dry-eyed, hollow, and numb. She forced her breathing to remain steady, refusing to give in to the raw pain cutting through her. If I can make myself feel nothing, I'll survive. If I start crying, I'll never stop.

She could almost hear Stephen's voice from last night, tenderly asking Did I hurt you? Hot tears pushed at the backs of her eyeballs and she impatiently brushed them away.

Yes, Stephen. You've hurt me.

Yet she had no one to blame but herself. He'd made her no promises and had merely given her what she'd wanted-the chance to be a woman. With a supreme effort, she calmly folded the pages before tucking them into the envelope. She had trouble putting them back in and peered in to see what the problem was. Something was in the bottom of the envelope. She turned it upside down and its contents fluttered into her palm.

The bottom of the envelope was filled with wilted pansies.

And she could no longer stop the tears.

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