Hayley nodded, amused by her hostess's dumbfounded expression. "It's difficult at times, but I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. Do you have any brothers or sisters, my lady?"

"I have two brothers," she answered, but immediately switched the conversation back to Hayley, asking literally dozens of questions about Halstead, the Albrights, and Hayley's interests. In return, the countess told many amusing tales about the glittering world of Society. Hayley wondered why the countess did not mention their mutual friends, but she was reluctant to broach the subject before her hostess did. She certainly didn't want the countess to think her ill-mannered.

When the second pot of tea was finished, Hayley chanced to glance at the mantel clock and nearly overturned her cup. "My goodness! Surely it cannot be after five?"

The countess laughed. "I was enjoying myself so much. I cannot believe the time flew by so quickly."

Hayley finished her tea and started to rise. "I've enjoyed a lovely afternoon, but I must be going. My family will wonder what has become of me."

"Please, don't leave yet," the countess said, halting her with a gentle touch on her arm. "We still haven't discussed our mutual friends."

Settling herself once again on the sofa, Hayley said, "When I first arrived, I admit I was fairly bursting with curiosity, but after a while I forgot all about them, whoever they are." She smiled. "It's odd, but I feel as if I have known you for a very long time."

The countess returned her smile. "I feel the same way. In fact, I would like very much for us to be friends."

Normally Hayley would have been quite taken aback at the notion of being friends with such a highborn lady, but after spending the afternoon with the countess, she felt very much at ease. "I'd be honored, Lady Blackmoor."

"In that case, I insist you call me Victoria. All my friends do."

"That would be lovely … Victoria. And you must call me Hayley."

"Excellent. Hayley, I think it's time we discussed our mutual friends."

Hayley waited, curious. "Go on."

"I believe you're acquainted with my husband."

Curiosity turned to confusion. "Your husband?"

"The Earl of Blackmoor."

Hayley shook her head. "I'm sure I've never met him."

"You may, perhaps, know him by his given name," Victoria suggested.

"That is most unlikely."

"His name is Justin Mallory."

Hayley stared at Victoria, struck mute by her shocking words. It took her a full minute to recover her voice. "I am acquainted with a Mr. Justin Mallory, but it must be a coincidence. The Mr. Mallory I know is not a nobleman."

Victoria rose and walked across the room to the dainty writing desk. She returned carrying a framed miniature, which she handed to Hayley. "This is my husband, Justin Mallory, the Earl of Blackmoor."

Hayley looked at the small painting and felt the blood dram from her face. The handsome man looking back at her was indeed the same Justin Mallory she knew. Shocked and confused, she said, "I had no idea Mr. Mallory was an earl. Or, obviously, that you are his wife."

Victoria sat next to Hayley and said in a gentle voice, "I believe you also know Justin's best friend, Stephen Barrett."

Hayley stiffened. Hot pain flashed through her, but she managed to keep her voice steady. "I am acquainted with a Mr. Stephen Barrettson."

"His real name is Barrett, but I don't believe you know him by his other name."

The room suddenly felt too small and bereft of air. "Other name? How many does he have?" Dear God, I must get out of here before I lose my mind.

"Quite a few, actually, but I won't bore you with his numerous lesser titles. He is the Marquess of Glenfield."

Hayley stared in profound shock. "We must be speaking of two different people. The man I met was a tutor."

"No. The man you met is Stephen Barrett, the Marquess of Glenfield. He is also my brother."

Black dots danced before Hayley's eyes and her breath clogged in her throat. She gaped at Victoria, speechless.

"I'm so sorry to spring the news on you like this-"

"I must go," Hayley said, jumping to her feet and looking frantically about for her reticule. She didn't understand what was going on here, but she had to get away. Stephen was a marquess? Victoria was his sister? He'd said he was a tutor-with no family. More lies… like when he said he cared for me. The depth of his deception hit her like a brick to her head. A tutor? A hysterical half laugh, half sob bubbled up her throat.

No wonder his Latin was abysmal and he couldn't shave. His formality, his criticism of her household-now she understood it all so well. Dear God, the man probably owned half of England. How he must have laughed at them. All of them. Especially her.

Nausea grabbed her and she clutched her heaving stomach. She couldn't bear to hear another word. Spying her reticule, she snatched it up and practically ran across the room, desperate to escape.

"Wait!" Victoria caught up to her and grasped her by the upper arms. "Please, don't leave like this. I must speak to you about my brother."

"I have nothing to say about your brother."

"Because of the way he left you. I understand. But there are so many things you don't know. Things I need to tell you. Please. You don't have to say anything. Just listen to me."

Hayley stood stiffly, looking at the floor.

"Please," Victoria repeated.

Raising her chin, Hayley saw that Victoria appeared very serious and earnest. She also now noticed that her green eyes were very much like Stephen's, and they were pleading with her to remain.

"Does he know I'm here?" Hayley asked, not willing to stay if there was a chance she might come face-to-face with Stephen.

"No. And neither does Justin. No one will disturb us here."

Not convinced she wasn't making a grave error, Hayley reluctantly walked back to the sofa and sat down. "Very well. I'll listen to what you have to say."

Victoria sat next to her. "I would first like to say thank you. You saved Stephen's life and I shall always be grateful." Reaching out, she clasped one of Hayley's clammy, trembling hands and squeezed.

"I don't understand any of this," Hayley said in a tight whisper. "He said he was a tutor. He said he had no family-"

"Someone is trying to kill him, Hayley."

Hayley's blood turned to ice. "I beg your pardon?"

"Someone tried to kill him the night you found him. From what I understand, it may not have been the first attempt on his life."

"Dear God," Hayley whispered, pressing her hand to her stomach. "Did Stephen tell you this?"

"No. Stephen was here for dinner the night before last. He and Justin had a most revealing conversation which I, ah, accidentally overheard. Stephen was foxed, and revealed quite a bit of his feelings to Justin."

"He spoke of a plot to kill him?"

"Yes. And he spoke about you."

"Me?"

"Yes. That is how I knew who you were and where you lived. Hayley, ever since Stephen returned to London he's been miserable. He misses you. He needs you."

Hayley shook her head. "No. You're wrong."

"I'm not wrong," Victoria said vehemently. "I heard it from his own lips. I know Stephen very well. Except for Justin, I am the person he is closest to. Justin is worried about him, and so am I. He doesn't sleep, he barely eats, and he's drinking far too much. He's lost interest in everything, and his eyes…Hayley, his eyes are so empty and haunted."

"Why are you telling me this?" Hayley whispered, fighting back tears.

"Because he loves you, although he's too foolish to know it."

Hayley dropped her head into her shaking hands. Victoria's words crashed into her, mortifying her, confusing her.

"He wants to go to you, Hayley, but he feels he can't. Not with someone trying to kill him. He doesn't want to place you or your family in any danger."

Hayley raised her head. "Is that why he didn't tell me the truth about who he was?"

"I honestly don't know. I only know what I overheard."

"Perhaps you should tell me what you heard."

"Of course." When Victoria finished, Hayley felt as battered as if she'd fallen off a cliff. She was angry at him for his duplicity, terrified for his safety, heartsick at the hopelessness of her love for him.

Victoria reached out and squeezed her hands. "Stephen has never been a happy man, Hayley. Our father has always been very hard on him, demanding absolute perfection from him because he's the heir. As a result, Stephen is quite cold and forbidding with most people. But since his return to London two weeks ago, he has been abjectly miserable. Someone wants him dead, and I'm afraid they'll succeed before he pulls himself together."

The thought of Stephen dead made Hayley's blood freeze in her veins. "But what can I do? I offered him everything I could, but he still left."

"But don't you see, he had to leave. He had to return to London to find out who's trying to kill him."

"Again, I ask, what can I possibly do?"

"You can make him happy. Do you love him?"

Hayley drew in a sharp breath at the sudden question. Do you love him? A hundred images of Stephen flashed in her mind; images she'd tried without success to banish.

Images of the man she loved.

Unable to deny it, she whispered, "Yes. But surely you can see how hopeless this is. Stephen and I are from two different worlds. Dear God, he's a marquess. I would never fit in-"

"Nonsense," Victoria interrupted, waving her hand in a dismissive fashion. "You could if you wanted to. All you would require is the proper support and patronage, and you already have that."