Red Roses Mean Love

* * *

Hayley entered Lorelei Smythe's elegant manor home, her heart pounding in anticipation. The way Stephen had looked at her-was still looking her, his green eyes dark and stormy, his gaze so warm and compelling, made it difficult to breathe.

She'd always dreaded parties. The few she'd attended had resulted in nothing but acute embarrassment. She was too tall, no one asked her to dance, and her clothes always seemed out of fashion.

But not tonight. Tonight she felt like a princess. Her dress was beautiful, and the handsomest, most wonderful man in the world was her escort.

'Hayley and Pamela,' Lorelei gushed, extending her hands. 'How nice to see you. And Mr. Barrettson. How divine you're here.' She graced Pamela with a cursory nod, then her eyes settled on Hayley.

'Goodness! What a lovely gown, Hayley,' she said, her sharp eyes taking in every aspect of Hayley's appearance. 'I don't believe I've ever seen you quite so nicely attired.' Snaking her arm through Stephen's with an unmistakably proprietary air, she continued, 'Hayley usually dresses in drab brown and covers herself with lake water. It would be quite scandalous if everyone wasn't used to her … eccentricities. Now, you must allow me to introduce you to my other guests, Mr. Barrettson.' She turned back to Pamela and Hayley. 'Will you please excuse us?' Pressing herself close to Stephen's side, she led him into the house.

'I cannot tolerate the way that woman treats you,' Pamela fumed in a hushed tone. 'I'd like to smack that supercilious smug look right off her face. How dare she commandeer your Mr. Barrettson like that. Why she-'

'Pamela, he is not my Mr. Barrettson,' Hayley whispered, trying to tamp down the jealousy flooding her. The sight of Lorelei's hands on Stephen made Hayley want to break something. Perhaps that gaudy porcelain shepherdess on that expensive cherrywood end table.

But she had Pamela to think about, and a scene would never do. Pulling herself together, she said, 'Wipe that frown from your face, Pamela. Marshall just caught sight of us and is headed this way.'

'Miss Hayley, Miss Pamela,' Marshall said when he reached them. He bowed to Hayley. 'You look lovely this evening, Miss Hayley.'

'Thank you, Marshall.'

Marshall turned to Pamela and Hayley watched him visibly swallow. 'And you, Miss Pamela,' he said in a reverent tone, 'you look very beautiful.' He bowed formally over her hand, then extended his arms to both of them. 'May I escort you ladies into the party?'

'Perhaps Hayley would allow me the pleasure?' a deep voice behind them asked.

Hayley turned and found herself face-to-face with Jeremy Popplemore. He smiled in a friendly manner, and Hayley responded in kind. She bore Jeremy no ill feelings. If he wished to be friends, she harbored no objections.

'Good evening, Jeremy. That is very kind, but Marshall-'

'Has already escorted your sister into the drawing room, I'm afraid,' Jeremy said wryly. He extended his elbow. 'May I have the honor?'

Left with little choice, Hayley lightly rested her gloved hand on Jeremy's sleeve and allowed him to escort her into the well-appointed drawing room. Axminster carpets dotted the polished marble floors, and tasteful cherrywood and mahogany tables accented the half dozen brocade sofas. Perhaps forty people roamed the large room, standing about in small groups, sipping Madeira or punch served by footmen.

'You look lovely this evening, Hayley,' Jeremy said, his eyes sliding over her, lingering on her decolletage. 'Very lovely indeed.'

Hayley couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her. 'Thank you, Jeremy, although I must say, everyone who says that to me has the most astounded look on their face. I must look quite dreadful most of the time.'

Jeremy threw back his head and laughed. 'Not at all, my dear,' he assured her, his eyes once again sweeping over her. 'Not at all.'

* * *

On the other side of the room, Stephen heard Jeremy Poppleport's laugh. He'd covertly observed the other man escort Hayley into the drawing room and then watched his eyes travel over her with a look Stephen recognized all too well. It was the look of a man who liked what he saw. The look of a man who wanted what he saw.

Stephen's fingers tightened on the stem of his wineglass. He fought hard to banish the overpowering desire to pummel Poppledink into dust. And to make matters worse, Lorelei Smythe was once again plastered to Stephen's side, and angling him to a private corner of the room. Because he was distracted and didn't wish to be rude to the people Hayley and her family had to socialize with, he allowed himself to be led. But he'd already decided he was going to give this annoying woman exactly two more minutes of his time, then depart her bothersome company.

'How do you like my home, Mr. Barrettson?' Lorelei asked when they stood in relative privacy near the windows.

He couldn't even say what color the room was. 'It's lovely, Mrs. Smythe.'

'You must call me Lorelei. My husband, may he rest in peace, bought me the house several years before his untimely death.'

'My condolences on your loss,' Stephen murmured, his attention fixed on the couple across the room.

'Oh, it was two years ago now,' she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. 'I'm quite out of mourning now.'

Stephen forced himself to look directly at her. She was undeniably attractive, with light brown hair and knowing hazel eyes filled with sexual promise. Her body was lush, a fact attested to by the voluptuous breast pressed against his arm, and the eye-stopping amount of cleavage showing above her bodice. There once was a time, not very long ago, when he probably would have returned her interest, and the evening would have culminated in a mutually satisfying sexual encounter.

But not anymore.

He looked at Lorelei Smythe with a dispassionate gaze, experiencing nothing but mild annoyance at her cloying attention. He felt tense and bothered, and wanted nothing more than to stalk across the room and fling Jeremy Popplepuss out the window. The damn man was practically disrobing Hayley with his eyes.

Stephen's eyes narrowed to slits when he observed Jeremy lean over to say something in Hayley's ear. Whatever he said, a becoming blush bloomed on her cheeks. Poppledop was definitely going out the window. Headfirst.

'They make an interesting couple, do they not?' Lorelei murmured.

'Who?'

'Jeremy and Hayley, of course, although I must say, I'm a bit surprised at Jeremy. I would have thought Pamela a better match for him. She is much more suited to him than Hayley.'

Stephen turned to her. 'Indeed? In what way?'

A breathy laugh escaped her. 'Well, Hayley is so… I don't quite know how to say it. So gangly and unladylike. Pamela is much more a young lady, but it appears her heart is engaged elsewhere.' Her gaze wandered to Pamela and Marshall, who stood conversing near the fireplace.

'If indeed Jeremy is interested in Hayley again,' Lorelei continued, 'she'd be foolish to turn down his suit. She's quite long in the tooth and I cannot imagine any other man courting her.' She eyed Stephen. 'You are aware that Hayley and Jeremy were once … close?'

'Yes, but I was under the impression that Popplepart objected to taking on Miss Albright's entire family.' The man is clearly an idiot.

'Popplemore. Jeremy has confided in me that since Pamela will probably soon wed, and the children aren't quite so young anymore, he believes he can convince Hayley to relinquish their care to Pamela part of the time.'

'Does he indeed?' Stephen asked in a deceptively quiet tone. If Poppledart entertained the idea that Hayley would give up her family, the man was a bigger fool than Stephen had originally thought. An overpowering urge to grab the bastard around the neck and shake him until his teeth rattled swamped Stephen. As he contemplated