Red Roses Mean Love

'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 financial 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.

He should have been scandalized. A woman selling stories to a gentlemen's magazine went completely beyond the pale. But somehow admiration overpowered any feelings of shock. When faced with dire circumstances, she'd found a way to provide for her family. But was Hayley actually H. Tripp, or simply an advisor to someone else?

The powerful need to know the answer to that question surprised him. He needed to see her. Talk to her. Would he be able to read her secret in her eyes? There was only one way to find out. Her occupation was none of his business, but he could not squelch his need to know the truth.

Determined to find Hayley, he headed for the terrace. In the foyer he encountered a dozing Grimsley sitting on a straight-backed chair. Two weeks ago, the sight of a servant sleeping in the foyer would have angered and appalled him. Here and now, however, the sight seemed somehow… appropriate. Without disturbing Grimsley, Stephen continued outside, shaking his head. Nearsighted footmen sleeping in the foyer, salty-tongued sailors hollering in the corridors, cooks tossing pots and pans, noisy children with boundless energy-Albright Cottage and its occupants were the complete opposite of everything he was used to. But where he'd at first been stunned by the chaos, he now knew that chaos was simply another word for heaven. And it was going to be damned hard to leave it.

Outside, he saw two figures in the distance walking toward the house. He knew at once they were Hayley and Callie. He settled himself on a wrought-iron chair to wait, and deeply breathed the earth-scented air. Leaning his head back, he enjoyed the warm sun on his face. Two days from now he'd be back in London, resuming his life, trying to catch a murderer. I need to tell Hayley I'm leaving the day after the party. I cannot put it off much as I want to. I'll tell her this afternoon.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of feminine voices. Sitting up straight, Stephen shaded his eyes against the bright sun. Hayley and Callie were dashing across the grass, arms outstretched. Unable to resist the lure of their laughter, he stood and walked to the patio railing for a better view.

'You can't catch me!' Callie yelled, running as fast as her little legs would allow.