Red Roses Mean Love

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 knocked 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.

"No, you may not come in," Grimsley said, his eyes snapping with anger. "Miss Hayley has finally stopped crying. Oh, she thinks no one knows how miserable she's been, but I've known that girl her entire life. She saved your rotten life, not once but twice. She gave you everything she had, but it wasn't enough for you, was it?" Grimsley's lips curled in a sneer. "Well, she has a proper beau now. I'll not allow you to hurt her again."

"I have no intention of hurting her," Stephen said, forcing himself to remain calm and ignore the mention of a "proper beau." "I only want to talk to her."

Winston's scowl darkened. "Over my dead body! I've 'alf a mind to rip out yer innards with me bare 'ands. In fact-"

"She loves me," Stephen broke in, hoping his innards wouldn't find themselves in Winston's bare hands.

"She'll get over it."

"I love her."

Grimsley answered that announcement with an eloquent snort. "You have an odd way of showing it, your lordship."

"I hope to remedy that."

"How?"

Stephen somehow held on to his patience. "That is private, Grimsley."

"Fine." The door started closing again.

"All right. If you must know, I plan to ask Hayley to marry me."

Grimsley appeared startled, but Winston's brows bunched tighter. "Wot's that?"

"I want to marry her."

Clearly neither man had expected this turn of events. Winston scratched his head and asked, "Why?"

"I love her."

"Ya treated 'er like dirt."

"I know." When Stephen saw Winston's eyes darken, he added, "But I was wrong. Terribly wrong. And I'm sorry." He eyed the two servants who stood like human sentinels guarding the door. "I admire you both for your loyalty. Let me speak to her. If she asks me to leave, I promise to do so immediately."

Winston grumbled under his breath and pulled Grimsley aside. They whispered between themselves for a moment, then returned. Grimsley cleared his throat. "We've decided that if you really love her, and Miss Hayley can find it in her heart to forgive you, we won't stand in your way. Miss Hayley must decide for herself."

"But if ya 'urt her again," Winston warned, "I'll string yer noble arse to the anchor and drop ya over the side." They stepped back and wordlessly indicated that Stephen could enter.

"Thank you. You have my word you won't regret inviting me in.

"She deserves the very best," Winston said in a gruff voice.

"She'll have everything it is in my power to give," Stephen vowed solemnly. "The entire family will. Including both of you."

The two men looked surprised by his words. "We just want 'er 'appy," Winston grumbled.

"Then we are in complete agreement." They stood in the foyer, regarding each other steadily. Then, in a show of friendship Stephen would have never before considered sharing with a servant, he extended his hand first to Grimsley, then to Winston.

After they shook hands, Stephen breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Where is Hayley?"

"Everyone is at the lake," Grimsley answered. "We expect them back within the hour."

Winston excused himself, saying he had chores to finish, and Grimsley led Stephen to the library.

"You can wait in here," Grimsley said. "I'll let you know when they return."

"Thank you. Tell me, Grimsley, is the rest of the family angry with me as well?"

Grimsley stroked his chin. "The children aren't, but then they don't know you broke Miss Hayley's heart. I cannot speak for Aunt Olivia, but I wouldn't expect a warm welcome from Miss Pamela, and unless you relish being tossed on your noble arse and clunked over the head with a skillet, I'd advise you to avoid Pierre."

Stephen hid his surprise at the footman's blunt words. "I see."

Grimsley turned to leave, but paused in the doorway. "I suppose our unconventional ways were a bit jarring for a lord such as yourself."

"Believe me, Grimsley, any 'jarring' I received at the hands of the Albrights was the best thing that ever happened to me."

The frosty, guarded look melted from Grimsley's eyes. "Well, you've got your work cut out for you. Dr. Wentbridge proposed to Miss Pamela and they're planning to marry in two months. I believe Mr. Popplemore, who strikes me as the impatient sort, would like to make it a double wedding." Grimsley coughed discreetly into his hand and left Stephen alone in the library.

Stephen walked to the window and stared out with unseeing eyes while Grimsley's words echoed through his mind. So Poppledink is the impatient sort, is he? He's bloody well going to be the bruised and toothless sort if he's so much as touched my woman.

A flash of color caught his attention and he focused his sight on the path leading from the lake. Andrew and Nathan emerged from the thick forest, with Callie at their heels. Winky, Pinky, and Stinky, looking somewhat less disreputable than the last time Stephen had seen them, bounded behind the youngsters. Next, Pamela and Dr. Wentbridge emerged, Pamela's hand tucked in his arm, the doctor smiling down at her. Even from a distance Stephen could see how happy they looked. A smile tugged at his lips.

That smile faded abruptly, however, when he spied Hayley emerging from the forest, her hand tucked into the crook of Jeremy Poppinheel's arm. Stephen's blood started a slow boil as he watched Jeremy brush a quick kiss against Hayley's temple, and the resulting blush that stained Hayley's cheeks. I'm going to tear that bastard limb from limb. And his goddamn lips will be the first thing to go. He'll be known in Halstead as Lipless Jeremy.

Stephen was still glaring out the window, planning painful retribution for the man who'd dare to touch what was his, when the library door burst open.

"You came! You came!"

Stephen turned and watched Callie run across the carpet. She launched herself into his arms. Stephen caught her, lifted her up and swung her around.

"How could I possibly miss the birthday of the finest hostess in all of Halstead?" he asked with a perfectly straight face. "Why, I wouldn't miss a tea party thrown by you in a million years." He set the child back on her feet and gently pulled one of her sable curls.

"I told them you would come," Callie whispered loudly, "but no one believed me. They all said you were too far away and too busy, but I knew you would come." She hugged Stephen around his thighs.

"Mr. Barrettson!" Nathan ran over to Stephen, his face flushed with excitement. "Grimsley said you were here. I say, this is a grand surprise."

Stephen ruffled the boy's hair and returned his grin.

"It's not Mr. Barrettson, you idiot," Andrew said in a scathing voice to his brother. "It's Lord Glenfield." He turned to Stephen. "It's good to see you again, my lord."

"The pleasure is all mine," Stephen said, extending his hand. Andrew smiled and extended his own hand.

Aunt Olivia joined the group, blushing furiously when Stephen gallantly kissed her hand. "Good heavens," she exclaimed, her face bright pink. "Not only is he handsome and charming, but a marquess as well. I believe I must sit down."

Dr. Wentbridge greeted Stephen in a friendly manner, but Pamela was much more reserved in her greeting, merely inclining her head and saying, "Lord Glenfield."

Jeremy was equally reserved in his greeting. "What brings you back to Halstead?"

"Callie invited me to her birthday party," Stephen answered, his eyes pinned on Hayley who had yet to look him in the eye or speak to him. Her attention appeared captured by something fascinating on the carpet.

Jeremy raised his eyebrows. "Callie invited you?"

Stephen flicked a glance at the man's face, then at his proprietary hand resting on Hayley's elbow. If Popplepuss didn't get his hand off her soon, he was going to flatten the bastard. "Yes. Callie invited me." He returned his attention to Hayley. "Hello, Hayley."

Hayley continued looking at the carpet. "Good afternoon, Lord Glenfield."

Callie tugged at Stephen's hand. "Come along, now. The tea party is about to begin."

Stephen allowed himself to be pulled along, and the rest of the group followed them out to the patio, where a gala tea party had been assembled. Callie presided over the festivities, passing around platters of freshly baked cookies and tarts while Hayley poured the tea. Stephen presented the child with the gift he'd brought for her, and Callie squealed with delight when she opened the box and discovered the doll inside.

"Oh!" Callie breathed in awe. "She's beautiful." She hugged the doll to her then gave Stephen a fierce hug. "Thank you, Lord Glenfield. Miss Josephine and I shall love her always." She pressed her lips against Stephen's ear. "And I love you, too."

Stephen's throat tightened. "You're very welcome, Callie." Leaning close to her ear he whispered, "I love you, too." He hugged her tight and heartwarming joy flooded him. My God. What an incredible feeling hearing those words-saying those words-gives me.

Conversation resumed, cookies and tea disappeared, and it seemed to Stephen that everyone was talking all at once.

Everyone except Hayley.

She simply sat, sipping her tea, keeping her gaze fastidiously away from him.

Stephen joined in the conversation and did his damnedest not to scowl at Poppledard, who couldn't seem to keep his hands from brushing against Hayley's.

"Tell me, Lord Glenfield," Nathan said, viewing Stephen through worshipful eyes, "what's it like being a marquess?"

Stephen carefully considered the question. "It's actually very lonely, Nathan." Stephen leaned back in his chair and fixed his gaze on Hayley, who still hadn't looked at him. "I have six estates and am responsible for the well-being of hundreds of tenants. I spend a great deal of my time traveling to my various properties. My duties leave me very little time to make friends."

"Mr. Mallory, I mean the Earl of Blackmoor, is your friend," Andrew said around a mouthful of cookie.

"One of very few, I assure you. Now, I am fortunate enough, I hope, to count your family among my friends."

Callie, who was seated on Stephen's right, slipped her hand into his. "I've never had a market as a friend before," she confided with a shy smile.

Nathan rolled his eyes in brotherly disgust. "He's a marquess, not a market."

Stephen dragged his eyes away from Hayley and smiled into Callie's enchanting face. "And I've never had a sweet young lady as a friend." He turned his attention to Pamela and Dr. Wentbridge, who sat across from him. "I understand that you're to be married. My congratulations to you both." A pink stain crept up Pamela's cheek at his words.

He turned his gaze back to Hayley. She was staring at her plate and her face appeared pale. He wanted so badly to go to her, pick her up and carry her out of the house, that he could barely sit still. Still looking at her, he said, "Speaking of marriage, I've been thinking about that very subject myself lately."

"What have you been thinking about marriage, Lord Glenfield?" asked Callie.

His eyes riveted on Hayley, he said softly, "I've decided to marry." The remaining color drained from Hayley's face and she squeezed her eyes shut. Then she abruptly stood, mumbled something about a wretched headache, and ran from the terrace.

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