Dear Lord Glenfield.

I hope you are feeling better. When Hayley told us you hurt your head, I felt very sad. She said you would be better soon. I hope so. We are all fine. Aunt Olivia helped me make a new dress for Miss Josephine and she looks beautiful now. My birthday is on Friday, the 20th, and we are planning a party. Guess what kind? A tea party! We will have cookies and cake, and we'reeven giving Winky, Pinky, and Stinky a bath so they can come too. I wish you could come. Then it would be my best birthday ever. Hayley says you're an important nobleman and you don't have time for birthday parties, but I told her you love tea parties. And if you come, maybe Hayley won't look so sad. She was crying the other day, but when I asked her what was wrong, she said she had something in her eye. Maybe Mr. Popplemore said something to make her feel bad. He visits almost every day. Dr. Wentbridge comes every day, but not because we're sick. It's because he's going to marry Pamela. Winston finished fixing the chicken coop and is now repairing the stable roof. Grimsley lost his spectacles again, and Pierre found them in the stew. Pierre said a lot of words I didn't understand and Grimsley is trying to keep his glasses on his nose. Andrew and Nathan say they hope you are well and they miss you. Aunt Olivia, too. She helped me write this letter-a little bit. Miss Josephine and I miss you very much and we love you too.

Very sincerely,

Callie Eugenia Albright

By the time Stephen reached the end of the letter, his throat was all but closed from the lump stuck in it, and his eyes were suspiciously moist. Damn dust in this room. Didn't Justin ever have the bloody place properly cleaned? He shook his head and quickly swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. He must have lost an abundance of blood during his scuffle with Melissa. How else could he explain being so undone by the child's letter?

"What did Hayley write?" Justin's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Nothing."

"If you don't wish to tell me-"

"No, it is not that. I mean that literally. The letter wasn't from Hayley."

"Then who was it from?" Justin asked. "The messenger said it was sent from Miss Albright."

"And it was. Miss Callie Albright."

Justin raised his brows. "Callie? The little girl? The one with the fiendish, stick-to-your-ass torture chairs and the penchant for tea parties?"

"The very same."

Justin appeared at a loss for words. "I thought for sure-"

"You thought wrong," Stephen said in a tight voice. "I told you when we spoke earlier in the week there was no hope for anything between Hayley and myself. She loathes me. She must, after the way I left Halstead and the things I said to her in the garden."

"Has it occurred to you to apologize to her?"

"There's no point. She said she never wanted to lay eyes on me again."

Justin leveled a penetrating glare at him. "Good God, Stephen, she saved your life. Even after you said those things."

"She'd have done the same thing for anyone," Stephen insisted stubbornly. "That's just the sort of person she is. Caring and totally unselfish."

"Yes. And I'm certain she is also understanding and forgiving."

"The things I said to her… believe me, they were unforgivable. You didn't see the look on her face, Justin. She looked at me like I was something found floating belly-up in the Thames, and it was no less than I deserved."

"Youdidn't see her face when we didn't know if you would live or die."

Stephen raked his hands through his hair, wincing when he brushed his wound. He'd been over this a thousand times in his mind. It was all he thought about. Because of his own stupidity, Hayley was lost to him.

Rising, he poured himself another brandy and looked out the window. The sun was shining brightly, bathing London's finest in a golden glow as they strolled into Hyde Park, but Stephen saw none of it.

"She didn't stay with me, Justin. Both you and Victoria asked her to, but she left."

"Not until she knew you would recover. And she has an entire household to look after. She had to go."

"She wanted to go. To get away from me."

"Perhaps," Justin conceded, "but can you really blame her?"

Stephen drained his glass. "No. I treated her terribly. I've told you more than once, she's better off without me."

"Hmmm… perhaps you're right. It seems a Mr. Popplemore is spending quite a bit of time at Albright Cottage. Since Pamela appears taken, and Aunt Olivia is a bit long in the tooth, I can only assume Hayley is the main attraction."

At the mention of "Mr. Popplemore," Stephen whirled around from the window. Justin held Callie's letter and was avidly scanning the contents.

"I don't recall giving you permission to read my letter," Stephen said in a frigid voice.

Justin beamed a smile at him. "Quite all right. I never asked for permission. So who is this Popplemore fellow? A suitor?"

Hot jealousy sizzled through Stephen. "A former suitor," he bit out.

Justin's brows rose. "Indeed? Former? Sounds quite current according to little Callie. She says he stops over nearly every day. Imagine that."

"Justin." Stephen's voice held an unmistakable warning.

Justin's eyes opened wide, his face a blank mask of innocence. "I am merely reading the child's own words. If you're content to let this Popplemore fellow court the woman you love, far be it from me to comment or cast aspersions on your decision. You obviously know what is best for you."

Stephen slammed his glass down on Justin's desk. "Yes. I do."

Justin waggled the letter in the air. "I take it then that you're not going to do anything about this?"

Stephen stalked forward and snatched the letter from between Justin's fingers. "There's nothing I can do."

"Actually, there is quite a bit you could do."

"Leave it alone, Justin. It's better this way."

"Better? Really? For whom? According to that letter, Hayley appears miserable, and it's very obvious that you are in a bad way-"

"I am not in a bad way."

They stared at each other for a long moment. "As you wish, Stephen. But I think you are making a big mistake."

"Noted."

"In truth, it really doesn't matter to me. I have enough to keep me busy, trying to keep Victoria in hand, without concerning myself with your affairs."

"Exactly."

"That wife of mine could test the patience of a saint, always haring off and involving herself in one scrape or another. Why look how she finagled Hayley here for that party-"

At that moment a great disturbance was heard on the other side of the room. Stephen and Justin turned their heads and watched as a small door tucked into the corner of the far wall was thrown open.

Victoria toppled head first into the room. With a startled cry, she landed on the carpet in an ignominious heap, the air whooshing from her lungs. "Blasted unsturdy door!"

"Victoria!" Justin exclaimed, rushing to her side. "Are you hurt?" He reached to assist her, but Victoria slapped his hands away.

"Unhand me, you… you…oohhh!" She pushed herself to her knees and swiped her hair out of her face with an impatient hand. "Do not even think of touching me, you cad. You bounder." She struggled to her feet, breathing heavily.

Jerking her skirts back into place, she stomped over to her stunned husband and halted directly in front of him. "Test the patience of a saint, could I? Of all the unmitigated gall. I'll have you know there's no need for you to 'keep Victoria in hand.' I am perfectly capable of seeing after myself, thank you very much."

She stalked over to her brother and thrust her chin upward. "And you! You are the most stubborn, pigheaded, foolish, idiotic dolt I've ever had the misfortune to meet." She punctuated each of her insults with a sharp stab of her index finger into the center of Stephen's chest.

"Ouch!" Stephen rubbed his offended skin and scowled at her. Did every damn woman he knew feel compelled to jab him? "This habit of listening at doors is quite unladylike, Sister, dear."

Victoria sniffed and raised her chin another notch. "It is the only way I am able to find anything out around here, and I must say, I cannot believe what I just heard. I can't credit it that you won't go to Hayley and explain yourself."

"I don't owe you an explanation, Victoria," Stephen said in a tight voice. "If you both will excuse me, I shall take my leave." He turned to go.

Victoria grabbed his arm and jerked hard. "Not until you listen to what I have to say."

Stephen halted and looked down at her hand clutching his sleeve, then sighed. "Very well. Say what you must, but say it quickly. I'm leaving here in exactly two minutes."

"As you know, I am acquainted with Hayley," Victoria said, not hesitating for a moment. "I think she's wonderful. She's lovely, intelligent, kind, and generous, but that is not what's most important."

"Indeed?" Stephen asked in a bored tone. "And what, pray tell, do you deem most important?"

"She loves you, Stephen."

"I sincerely doubt it."

Victoria was so frustrated, she stamped her foot. "God in heaven, Stephen, you are such a fool. She sat in this very room and told me she loves you. She's told you herself. And what's more, you love her." She shook his sleeve, but Stephen remained stonily silent. "You can deny it all you want," she continued, "but why you'd want to is a mystery to me. She saved your life, not once but twice. She deserves better than what you've given her. You were happy with her during your stay in Halstead. And anyone with two eyes can plainly see that now you're miserable. Go see her. Talk to her. She came to you once, but you sent her away. You must go to her."