Red Roses Mean Love

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.

SHAPE * MERGEFORMAT

Chapter 23

Stephen sat in the study in his London town house, going over estate accounts with his secretary, Peterson. He massaged his temples, willing his pounding headache away, but it didn't work. Peterson's voice droned on, bringing Stephen up to date on what had occurred during his absence. He'd been home for nearly two weeks now, but he still hadn't caught up on his work.

He stared unseeingly at the papers in front of him, the small rows of numbers swimming before his eyes, making no sense to him at all. For the first time in his life, he didn't care about his business interests. Truth be known, he cared about very little.

'Would you like to review the figures on the Yorkshire estates, my lord?' Peterson asked, peering over the rim of his spectacles.

'I beg your pardon?'

'The Yorkshire estates. Would you like to review-'

'No.' Stephen abruptly stood up and ran his hands through his hair. 'We'll have to finish this tomorrow morning, Peterson.'

'But, my lord,' Peterson protested. 'The Yorkshire estates-'

'Do what you think is best.' Stephen nodded curtly at the dumbfounded man, dismissing him.

Peterson hastily gathered up his sheaf of papers, his amazement apparent. He quickly left the room.

Stephen drained his brandy down his throat, and pushed himself away from the fireplace, replenishing his glass. The last two weeks had been the most miserable time of his life. His town house was perfectly run by his impeccable staff, and his meals formal culinary masterpieces. No children, no dogs, no noise or chaos.

He hated every bloody minute of it.

On his first day back, he'd wandered into the kitchens and struck terror into the hearts of his staff with his unprecedented visit. The marquess would never visit the kitchens unless something was horribly wrong with a meal.

On his second day back, he'd asked Sigfried to teach him how to shave himself. The valet had looked at him as if he'd taken leave of his senses, then immediately requested a restorative tisane for his lordship.

Now, sipping his drink, his mind drifted back to the evening he and Hayley had spent in the study. A smile touched his lips when he recalled her tossing back the brandy then nearly choking when the powerful liquor burned down her throat. Then he'd recited a poem to her. And kissed her. He closed his eyes, and was almost able to feel the soft caress of her lips beneath his, her hands encircling his neck, her tongue-

'I don't know what you're thinking about,' Justin's dry voice came from the doorway, 'but it must be fascinating. I've been trying to get your attention for nearly a minute.' He entered the room and helped himself to a brandy. 'Care to share your thoughts?'

'No.' Stephen frowned at Justin, then completely ignored him.

'I thought you'd be hard at work,' Justin remarked casually. He took a sip of brandy and studied Stephen over the edge of his snifter.

'I dismissed Peterson for the day.'

'Indeed? Why?'

'Because I couldn't concentrate and I was wasting both his time and mine.' Stephen pinned a hard look on his friend. 'Is there any particular reason you've invaded my privacy, other than to drink my brandy?'

'As a matter of fact, there are two reasons. The first is we need to discuss the latest attempt on your life.'

Stephen heaved a sigh. 'What is the point of discussing it again?'

Justin cocked a brow. 'Someone tried to run you over last evening outside White's. You don't think that