Stephen tried to stand and couldn't. "Well, this is a devil of a mess," he grumbled. "And to top it off, I desperately need to relieve myself. I must have drunk forty-three cups of tea."

Justin laughed. "Forty-seven, but who's counting?"

"Why are you sitting there like that?" Andrew asked, stepping onto the patio. He gaped at the two men, a look of horror coming over his face. "Ye Gods! Callie got you at one of her tea parties, didn't she?"

A rueful grimace tilted one corner of Stephen's lips. "I'm afraid so."

Justin leaned forward and peered up at the boy. "I say, Andrew, what on earth happened to your face?"

Andrew touched his scab-dotted cheek and shot Stephen a shy smile. "Mr. Barrettson taught me how to shave."

"Mr. Barrettson taught you?" Justin shook his head. "Good God, boy, you're lucky you lived to tell the tale. Stephen doesn't know the first thing about-"

"Ahem!" Stephen shot his friend a silencing, killing glare then turned to Andrew. "How about helping us up?"

"Glad to," Andrew said. He leaned over and helped first Stephen, then Justin to extricate their hips from the tiny chairs, taking care not to break them.

Justin held one of the chairs aloft after it was removed from his bottom. "Sturdy little chair. It's amazing it withstood my weight."

"Thank you, Andrew," Stephen said, rubbing a cramp from his thigh.

Andrew shot both men a knowing grin. "Glad to help. I've attended more than one of Callie's tea parties. I'm quite familiar with those ghastly little chairs." He picked up a cookie from the nearly empty plate, stuffed the whole thing into his mouth, and sauntered off into the house.

Justin picked up his package and urged, "Come along, Stephen. Let's get away from here before anything else happens to us."

Stephen nodded his agreement, and they headed down a stone path away from the house. After walking a good distance, they stopped and sat down on a wooden bench.

"Where are the other Albrights today?" Justin asked, leaning back and stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Hayley, Pamela, and Aunt Olivia went to the village, and Nathan is resting in his room. He took a spill from a tree yesterday."

"Is he all right?" Justin asked.

"Yes, but the doctor wants him to stay in bed today." A chuckle escaped Stephen. "I think the confinement is killing the lad."

Justin eyed his friend speculatively. "You seem to be fitting in here quite well," he said, his tone nonchalant. "When we last spoke you seemed to feel the Albright children were unruly, loud hooligans."

"They are unruly, loud hooligans. I've merely grown somewhat accustomed to them." He smiled inwardly, thinking of Callie's enchanting, delighted smile when he'd agreed to attend her tea party. In spite of the tiny chairs, he'd enjoyed himself, and the child's happiness warmed him in a way he'd never before felt.

"The children are a bit rough around the edges," Stephen remarked, "but they're all kindhearted." Actually, they're wonderful. His gaze drifted to the package resting at Justin's feet. "Are those the things I asked you to bring?"

Justin nodded and handed the package to Stephen. "Yes."

"Excellent. I'm in desperate need of additional clothing." He ruefully thought of his breeches with the split up the back.

Justin cocked a single brow. "Indeed? Is that why you requested I bring you a gown? A pale aqua muslin gown? With matching slippers and accompanying undergarments?"

Stephen blasted Justin with a frigid look. "The gown is for Miss Albright."

An amused smirk quirked Justin's lips. "Indeed? Which Miss Albright? There are several of them, you know."

"It's for Hayley," Stephen said in a tight voice.

"Ah. An unusual gift. Very personal. And quite costly, for a tutor to give, that is. I'll have you know it required a considerable amount of time, effort, money, and influence to procure that gown. In fact, it damn near took an act of Parliament."

"I will, of course, pay you back," Stephen said frostily.

"I'd prefer you satisfy my curiosity."

"Forget it, Justin," Stephen warned.

"As you wish," Justin said with a smile. "I can only hope Victoria remains ignorant of my purchase. If she ever gets wind of it, I'll be neck-deep in trouble. How the hell will I explain I bought the gown for you? She's bound to think I have a mistress."

"You're a very resourceful fellow. I'm sure you'll manage to come up with a plausible excuse. Rest assured she'll never hear the truth from my lips. Now, tell me. What is happening in London?"

"Quite a lot, actually," Justin said. "In fact, if you hadn't sent for me, I planned to come here anyway. One of our suspects, Marcus Lawrence, is dead."

Stephen stared at Justin. "Dead?"

Justin nodded. "Suicide. He was found two days ago in his study. Apparently he put a pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The magistrate was about to bring him up on charges in relation to his illegal cargo. That, combined with his financial ruin, apparently pushed him over the edge."

Stephen narrowed his eyes. "How do they know it wasn't murder?"

"Apparently several witnesses saw him the night he died. He was stinking drunk, rambling on about his losses, and totally despondent. According to his butler, Lawrence arrived home at midnight and went immediately to his study. The butler heard the gunshot several minutes later."

"Could someone have gotten in through a window?" Stephen asked.

Justin shook his head. "No. There was only one window and it was locked from the inside. He'd scribbled a short note to his wife, begging her forgiveness. It was definitely suicide."

"So, if Lawrence was our man," Stephen mused out loud, "then the threat to me is over."

"If Lawrence was our man," Justin agreed.

Stephen looked at his friend and silent understanding passed between them.

"In accordance with our plan, I mentioned to your staff and family that you've traveled to the Continent," Justin reported. "No one questioned the story, but Gregory has asked me several times about your specific whereabouts. I told him you preferred not to mention your exact location as you were enjoying a private holiday with your latest mistress."

A warm flush crept up Stephen's neck at the near accuracy of Justin's story. He cleared his throat. "With Lawrence dead, Gregory is now our most likely suspect."

"Inheriting several million pounds, along with numerous estates and titles is a powerful motive for murder," Justin agreed.

"But Gregory doesn't need the money."

"I would not be so sure about that, Stephen. I heard he owes a substantial amount at White's, and he's been seen frequenting some disreputable gaming hells. But regardless, I think it's time you returned to London. If Lawrence was our man, the threat to your life is gone. If Gregory is the culprit, we need to find out." He eyed Stephen's midsection. "Are your ribs sufficiently healed to allow you to travel on horseback?"

Stephen nodded absently. "I suppose. What if it's someone else altogether? Not Lawrence or Gregory?"

"Then we need to know that as well," Justin said. "As much as I don't wish to place you in danger, we're not going to accomplish anything with you out here. It's time to come home."

Home. Reality struck him like a bolt of lightning. Over the past two weeks he'd become so involved with Hayley and her family, he'd nearly forgotten his life in London. A life that included a cold-blooded killer.

Home. A large, perfectly run town house on Park Lane in London. The epitome of elegance, with a perfectly trained staff who catered to his every need. No children underfoot, no unruly dogs, deaf aunties, or irreverent servants.

Stephen slowly nodded. "Yes, I suppose it is indeed time to go home." The words brought with them an aching emptiness.

"Excellent. Shall I wait while you gather your things? Or perhaps I can lend you a hand?" Justin asked, standing up.

Stephen looked at him blankly. "I beg your pardon?"

"Do you require help getting your clothes together?"

Stephen slowly rose to his feet, a frown tugging between his brows. "I cannot leave with you today, Justin."

Justin's brows rose in surprise. "Why not?"

"There are some things I must take care of here before I leave," Stephen said vaguely, disgusted when he felt his face grow warm.

"Such as?" Justin peered at him. "Egad man! Are you blushing?"

"Of course not," Stephen denied hotly, walking down the path toward the house. "I simply cannot depart today."

"All right. Tomorrow."

"I cannot leave until the day after."

"Why?"

"None of your damn business," Stephen bit out, but then he relented. "I promised to escort Hayley and her sister to a party tomorrow evening, hence my request for the dress. I cannot break my promise."

"I see," Justin said, eyeing him up and down. "And how are you getting along with Miss Albright?"

"Pamela Albright is a lovely young woman," Stephen said, purposely misunderstanding the query. He started walking faster.

"Pamela is not the Miss Albright I was referring to, as you very well know," Justin said, falling into step beside him.

"Hayley and I are getting along fine," Stephen answered in a terse tone that discouraged further questions. Justin completely ignored his tone.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to see her on this visit."

"She didn't know you were coming."

"Really? Why didn't you tell her? Did you purposely hope to keep me from running into her?" Justin asked. "Were you afraid I'd notice something in her demeanor? Or yours perhaps?"

Stephen halted and leveled an even look on his friend. Damn Justin and his deadly accuracy. "I have no intention of discussing Hayley with you, Justin."