Red Roses Mean Love

her shock growing with each passing minute.

Then the talking stopped. She applied her eye to the crack in the door and saw Justin struggling to pull Stephen, who appeared passed out cold, to his feet. Quietly closing the door, she made her way out of the room.

She sprinted down the hall in a very uncountesslike manner. Then, employing a method that would shock the matrons of the ton right down to their stockings, she hiked her nightgown and robe up to her thighs and took the stairs two at a time, not pausing in her mad dash until she was safely ensconced under the covers in her bed.

Closing her eyes, she calmed her breathing, for she knew Justin would come to her. He knew how anxious she was to know if he'd found out anything about what was bothering Stephen. Several minutes later she heard the door connecting her and Justin's adjoining suites open.

Victoria felt the edge of the bed pull down under Justin's weight as he perched there. She opened her eyes and smiled at him in the semidarkness.

'I should have known you'd still be awake,' he said, his voice laced with amusement.

'I'm anxiously awaiting your report on Stephen,' she replied, sitting up. 'Did he tell you what is bothering him?'

Justin hesitated, then said, 'I'm afraid Stephen had too much to drink. I helped him upstairs and deposited him in the blue guest bedchamber.'

'I see,' Victoria said. Justin obviously wasn't going to repeat his conversation with Stephen. Must be a code of honor among men not to reveal confidences spoken while in their cups. Fortunately, she didn't need Justin to tell her. Of course, it would never do for Justin to know that.

'I'd so hoped you could find out what is bothering him,' Victoria said, heaving her best wistful sigh. 'I want so much to help him.'

Justin gathered her in his arms and planted a kiss on the top of her head. 'Stephen will be fine,' he said in a comforting voice. 'Believe me, there is nothing you can do to help him, other than be patient with him. He'll be himself again soon.'

Victoria snuggled closer to her husband's chest, a small secret smile curving her mouth. Nothing she could do to help?

We shall see about that.

SHAPE * MERGEFORMAT

Chapter 24

Hayley walked through the woods, her footsteps silent on the hard-packed dirt path. Sunlight filtered through the trees, warming the cool, shaded air. When she reached the lake, she found a grassy spot and plopped down, resting her weight on her hands, and stared at the sparkling dark blue water.

Dear God, will I ever feel happy again? She picked up a small pebble and tossed it, watching a series of water rings spread. She normally found peace in this setting, in the moss-scented shade and gentle rustle of leaves. But not today. Not in the last two weeks. Not since he'd left.

She'd had two weeks to gather her spirits, garner her thoughts, and break out of the malaise that had been her constant companion since Stephen's departure. In those two weeks she'd failed utterly. It still hurt to breathe. Her insides ached and her heart felt crushed, her soul bruised, as if wild horses had trampled her into the mud. Life as she'd known it before Stephen's arrival was no longer the same.

She hadn't been able to look at her flower garden. She couldn't bear to see it-especially the pansies. And she hadn't slept in her bed since he left, unable to lie where they'd spent the night making love to each other.

She couldn't sleep anyway, so she spent most nights in her father's study, bent over her stories, writing until dawn. When the sun slipped over the horizon, she would lie down for an hour or two on the settee in the study and doze fitfully.

Because she knew her family was worried about her, she'd forced herself to put on a cheerful face for them the last several days in order to reassure them she was all right. She couldn't stand Pamela's pitying looks anymore.

Over the last two weeks her emotions had run the gamut from anger to heartbreak. Sometimes she was furious-at Stephen for his empty words and the way he'd left her, and at herself for falling for him. Other times she felt so utterly, completely devastated, she could barely stand up. Her knees weakened with shame every time she recalled her uninhibited behavior the night before he left.

She cringed to think she'd told him she loved him. She'd spent the first week he was gone worrying she might be with child, but that had proven not to be the case.

I have no one to blame but myself. I offered him everything I have-my heart, my soul, my innocence-it wasn't enough. She'd reread his note a hundred times, until she couldn't look at it anymore, and had finally laid it in the fireplace late last night. It was time to get on with her life. She had a family who depended on her, and responsibilities to take care of. They gave her a reason to go on. It was time to stop wallowing in self-pity and once again join the living. It was time to get on with her life.

Just as Stephen obviously had.

* * *

'Yes, yes, who is there?' Grimsley asked, pulling the front door open. He squinted into the sunshine, blinded by the bright glare. 'Who are you? Do I know you? Where are my spectacles?' He slapped his hand to the top of his head and winced as their wire frames bit into his skin.

He adjusted the glasses on the end of his nose and peered again, this time his eyes widening in amazement. A footman garbed in full livery, the finest Grimsley had ever seen, stood at the door.

Winston chose that moment to stride into the foyer. 'Who the hell are ya and wot the hell do ya want?' he bellowed.

'I have a message for Miss Hayley Albright,' the footman intoned, his features an impassive mask. 'Is she at home?'

Grimsley self-consciously tugged his waistcoat into place. 'Yes, Miss Albright is at home. Wait here.'

Winston glared at the footman, clearly suspicious. 'You find Miz Hayley, Grimsley. I'll watch this bloke. If 'e gives me any trouble, I'll knock 'im sideways with me bare hands.'

Summoning all the dignity he could under the circumstances, Grimsley left the foyer in search of Miss Hayley. He had absolutely no idea where she was.

It took him nearly twenty minutes to find her. After an exhaustive search, he finally located her in the vegetable garden, pulling weeds with Callie and Pamela. When he explained the presence of the fancy footman, they all followed him back to the house.

'Miss Hayley Albright?' the footman asked, his gaze alternating between Hayley and Pamela.

'I am Hayley Albright,' Hayley said, coming forward.

He held out a folded piece of wax-sealed ivory vellum paper. 'I have a message for you from the Countess of Blackmoor. The countess asked that I wait for your reply.'

'The Countess of Blackmoor?' Hayley repeated, completely at sea. She turned the thick piece of paper over in her hands. 'I've never heard of such a person. Are you certain the message is for me?'

'Absolutely certain,' the footman said.

'What does it say?' Callie asked, pulling on Hayley's gown.

'Let's find out.' Hayley broke the seal and scanned the note. 'How extraordinary.'

'What?' Callie and Pamela asked in unison.

'The Countess of Blackmoor is inviting me to tea tomorrow at her London town house. She says although we've never met, she recently discovered we have mutual friends and she would like very much to meet me.'

'Who are the mutual friends?' Pamela asked, peering over Hayley's shoulder to scan the note.

'She does not say.'