"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.
Chapter 31
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Hayley ran from the terrace as if the devil himself pursued her. To her profound mortificati
on, she realized that everyone at the table, Stephen included, would realize why she'd left so abruptly, but she couldn't stay there another instant.
He was getting married.
Dear God, it felt as if her insides were being ripped out with a rusty pitchfork. She raced up the stairs, not stopping until she reached the sanctuary of her bedchamber. She collapsed into her favorite chair and buried her face in her hands, trying without success to stem the flood of tears washing down her face.
Why, oh why, did he come here? I should have made him leave. I should have tossed him out the minute I saw him. I should have set the dogs on him. But knowing how happy his presence made Callie, she hadn't had the heart to send him away. So instead, she'd steadfastly ignored him, praying she could hold on to her composure until he left.
But, dear God, when he'd announced he was planning to marry, she couldn't carry on the pretense another minute. With her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, she ran. In spite of her best efforts to forget him, she still loved him, a fact that disgusted her to no end. In fact, the more she thought about it, the angrier she became.
How dare that bounder come here, calmly announcing his wedding plans! Hayley impatiently swiped at her wet eyes with her hanky. Of all the colossal nerve! Why I'd like to—
"Hayley."
The deep masculine voice interrupted her musings. She turned, outrage filling her when Stephen entered her bedchamber. Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it.
"Get out," she hissed furiously, jumping to her feet.
"There are some things that I need to say to you," he said quietly, walking slowly toward her. "After I've said them, if you still want me to leave, I will."
"I've listened to all I care to from you." She tried hard to keep the tremor from her voice, and she felt proud that she almost succeeded. "How dare you enter my bedchamber."
He continued walking forward. Hayley refused to let him think he intimidated her in any way. She stood her ground, even though he didn't stop until only a few feet separated them.
"As I recall, you once welcomed me into this room," he said in a husky voice. "You welcomed me into your arms. Into your bed. Into your body."
Humiliation, embarrassment, and pain collided, ripping through her, searing her. "How dare you! I'll have you know, your lordship, that you are not the man I welcomed into this room. I learned, unfortunately too late, that that man did not exist. He was merely a fabrication of lies and deceit."
He reached out visibly shaking fingers to touch her cheek, but she jerked her face aside. "It was me," he said in an aching whisper. "A me I didn't know existed. A me capable of feelings I'd never known before. Until you, Hayley."
She dropped her chin, struggling against the maelstrom of emotions his words stirred.
"I treated you terribly, Hayley, and I'm more sorry than I can say, but you must let me explain. The night I saw you at Victoria's party, I'd been thinking about you. Hell I couldn't stop thinking about you. Then I turned around and there you were. I was so damn happy to see you."
A bitter laugh escaped her. "You managed to keep your joy well hidden."
"I knew I was in danger. Justin and I had set a trap to catch the person trying to kill me, and I was the bait. I was desperate to get you away from me. To keep you safe. I would have died if any harm had come to you. But you wouldn't leave." He drew a deep breath. "And then I made the biggest error of my life."
"Those things you said to me—"
"Were an unforgivable mistake." He shook his head. "My only excuse is that in my entire life I've never known unselfish goodness such as yours, and for one insane moment it made perfect sense to me that you were there to see what you could get out of me. Because of my title, I'm afraid such things occur with sickening frequency. I have very few friends because there are so few people I can trust … so few who don't want something from me.
"But you…" His throat tightened, and he couldn't speak for several seconds. "You are incapable of such selfishness and I am deeply sorry I ever thought you were."
"What about the lies you told when you first came here?"
"Again, someone wanted me dead. I thought if I hid my identity, I wouldn't be discovered until I'd healed. As you know, I was in no condition to travel or defend myself."
"The way you left me," she whispered, "that awful note…"
"I'm sorry. God, you have no idea how much I regret that. I tried to tell you I had to leave, but when you asked me to stay, when you said you loved me—" He raked his hands through his hair. "My control snapped. I wanted you so much. And afterward, I couldn't bear to see that love fade from your eyes when I told you I'd lied to you. I didn't believe I'd ever see you again, and I wanted my last image to be of you loving me. It was pure selfishness on my part, and I have no excuse. But if it matters, I've regretted it every moment since."
Hayley squeezed her eyes shut, and fought to quiet the emotions swarming through her like angry bees, bombarding her, stinging her, forcing her to feel things she'd tried so desperately to bury. If he didn't leave soon, she was going to fall apart.
"Hayley, there are so many things I want to say to you, but I don't know the words … so I brought you a present."
She opened her eyes and prayed for strength. "A present?"
"Wait here."
Stephen opened the door and bent down. He then closed the door and rejoined her, holding a small bouquet of flowers.
"I keep a modest conservatory at my London town house," he said, handing her the flowers. "Last evening I had a chat with Desmond."
"Desmond?"
"My groundskeeper. He apparently shares your knowledge of flowers and their meanings." He touched a delicate flower. "For instance, Desmond told me tulips, such as this one, stand for 'consuming love.' Is that right?"
Hayley stared at the bouquet and nodded mutely. "And this flower," Stephen said, touching a white blossom, "is a camellia. It means 'loveliness perfected.' And this one is a double pink. Do you know what they mean?"
"'My love will never die,'" Hayley whispered, her eyes riveted on the small pink flowers.
"Yes. My love will never die," he agreed softly. He pointed to a small white rosebud. "According to Desmond, this one means 'a heart untouched by love.'" Placing gentle fingers under her chin, he lifted her face until their eyes met.
"That was me. Untouched by love. Until I met you." He pulled a single red rose from the bouquet and handed it to her. "Red roses mean love. I love you, Hayley."
Hayley took the rose, with shaking fingers, and raised it to her nose, inhaling the heady fragrance, her head spinning. I love you, Hayley. Had he really said that? Before she could think, he reached out and pulled a small yellow bloom from the group. When Hayley saw the verbena, she stilled. Her gaze flew to his.
"Do you know what this means?" he asked softly.
She swallowed, scarcely able to breathe. "Do you know what it means?"
Nodding solemnly, he handed her the flower. "Marry me."
Hayley stared at him. Surely this was a dream. This could not be real.
He leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly against hers. "God, I love you, Hayley," he breathed against her mouth. "Marry me. I swear I'll spend the rest of my life making you happy, making you forget how I've hurt you." He raised his head and searched her eyes.
Hayley looked into his handsome, somber face. He loved her. The flood of tears she could no longer hold at bay gushed forth and streamed from her eyes.
He gathered her into his arms, crushing the bouquet between them. "Please don't cry. I can't bear to watch an angel weep." He dropped tender kisses against her eyelids, then trailed his lips down her tear-wet cheek.
"Hayley, sweetheart, please, say something," he whispered against the shell of her ear. "I'm in agony…" He dropped his forehead forward until their brows touched. "You simply must marry me. If you don't, I'll turn into a horrid curmudgeon. I'll frown all the time." He lifted his head and touched the skin at the corner of his ey
e. "Look at the wrinkles all that frowning has caused. Why, I'll be old before my time. Have pity on a poor nobleman who loves you and is utterly miserable without you."
"My family—" she began, but Stephen cut her off.
"Your family will be my family, and it will be the first real family I've ever had," he said simply. "They will live with us, and I'll see to it they have the best of everything."
"I suppose I'll have to dispose of my breeches and stop frolicking in the lake."
His expression softened and he shook his head. "No. Don't change a thing. I love everything about you, especially those things that make you so wonderfully different."
Joy filled her to overflowing. But there was one last thing standing in her way. "There's something I must tell you, Stephen."
"Just tell me yes."
Hayley shook her head. "I mean there's something you need to know. Something about me."
"I'm listening."
Hayley stepped away from him and pressed her hand to her stomach. "I'm not quite certain how to say this, so I'll simply say it." She drew a deep breath and hoped for the best. "I want to continue writing and selling my stories to the Gentleman's Weekly."
He cocked a brow. "As my wife, you certainly won't lack for funds."
"It has nothing to do with money. I enjoy writing the stories. They keep Papa alive for me." When he remained silent, she added, "This is important to me, Stephen."
"I see."
Hayley's heart sank at his flat tone. Of course he would disapprove. "I realize a scandal could erupt should anyone discover I'm H. Tripp. You must think I'm—"
"Brilliant. I think you're absolutely brilliant. And wonderful." A slow smile curved his lips. "It seems I just proposed to one of the most popular 'men' in England. By damn, we really are going to set Society on its ear!" Pulling her against him, he kissed her until her head swam.
"You mean you don't mind?" Hayley gasped when he lifted his head.
He cocked a single brow. "Mind? That the woman I love is talented, beautiful, and utterly marvelous? Why would I mind?"
"And you'll allow me to continue writing?"
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