by Ava Stone
As the curricle's wheels rattled over stones, Laurence glanced at his companion again. Miss Chase, the limp rag. He was tempted to speed through the park, merely to see if he could get some response from her. Would she shriek and cling to him? Find it in herself to berate him? Or maintain the oddly placid mien he always saw from her. He couldn't even claim her to be mousy, as she had that lovely complexion and bright hair. She was just still. Stiff. Almost as though she were paused in the midst of doing something else. Perhaps he should have left her among the paintings at the gallery. She wasn't a person, but a captured moment of a person. What would he title such a portrait? At the moment perhaps Shy Girl in the Sun? Her chin was tucked so low that he could barely see her features below her bonnet. Perhaps A Good Place for a Hat. He chuckled at his own humor and saw her turn toward him slightly. To study him from under her lashes as she sometimes did, he assumed. Had the girl driven him batty, that he was now laughing to himself rather randomly? He was glad that they had taken the curricle, as driving gave him something of a distraction. Sitting in a carriage with her opposite would be a study in boredom. But they were drawing near her abode, meaning this outing was at an end. There only remained a week, or six days if he was to be precise, of ferrying this limp rag about. Then he could return to his new life. Sadly, neither prospect was something to look forward to.
As the horses trotted in front of Lady Grace's home, a rather disreputable young man stepped away from the wall. He had a shock of unkempt red hair and a coat that looked three times made over. Laurence was considering how to deal with the ruffian when his companion finally sprang to life.
"Fox!" she cried, and promptly sprang down from her perch before the horses had fully stopped. The girl he would have previously accused of having no voice proved to have a clear and strong one. "What happened? Why are you here? Where are the twins?"
The red-haired man put his hands on Miss Chase's shoulders. "Tim is staying with the Hinton's. He finally admitted to me that Trouble left for London."
Her voice escalated to the point of shrill. "How long has he been gone?"
"Since the day before I left." Then the young man added more quietly. "Or so."
Miss Chase drew back, her shoulders squaring and hands propping on hips. She was no longer shrill, but sharp and commanding. "You don't know?"
The younger man turned away and ran his hands through his unruly hair. "I'm not sure. I saw him the afternoon before that."
"What's the point of me selling myself into marriage to support my family, if there's no family to support once I've returned?"
Laurence raised his brows at her statement. Handing the reins off to his tiger, he stepped forward. "May I be of assistance, Miss Chase?"
The girl who turned toward him bore so little resemblance to the limp rag he had been escorting the past week that it was amusing. Her dark brown eyes were snapping with anger and her chin was tilted up defiantly. "I shouldn't think so," she said crisply. "This is a family matter. Unless your talents run to corralling wayward young men then you're really no help at all."
"What do you think we naval officers do with our time?" he asked amiably. "The only thing more unpredictable than the ocean would be the young men who think to find their fortune on it. How old is the boy?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "My brother is six and ten."
Laurence turned to the red-haired man. "Fox Chase, I presume?"
"Marcus Chase," the younger man replied with a nod. "My friends call me Fox."
"Miss Chase," Laurence said, turning his attention back to her. "You'd best change into something sturdier if you hope to go looking for your brother."
She looked back and forth between them, then picked up her skirts and stalked toward the front door.
Once it clicked shut, Laurence looked to Fox. "We'd best hurry before she returns."
The younger man snorted. "You don't know her very well, do you?"
Laurence smiled to himself as he jumped up into the curricle. "No, but I'm learning." No longer a limp rag, she was now the most interesting thing he had encountered since returning to London.
Chapter 8
Agatha watched from the window as the curricle raced away with Fox aboard. She'd known that the arrogant, irritating viscount would do precisely that. He undoubtedly thought himself clever. But if he was inclined to play the cavalier and find her troublesome brother, then that was perfectly fine with her. Even if she was annoyed, deeply annoyed, by his tactics. His having been a naval officer squared with her impression of him. Stiff, overbearing, and far too self-assured.
What remained for her to do was decide whether to stay in London on this foolish mission to attract a husband, or return home and try to keep together the miserable little family she already had. Certainly she could bow out of this Season granted by the duke, as she'd not even been introduced to him. Now that she'd revealed the extent of her shrewish nature to the viscount, she certainly couldn't rely on his good word. Not that she thought of herself as a shrew, precisely, but certainly her behavior just now was in sharp contrast to that required for a lady in Society. And that only made her wish Society to the devil. Certainly all these ladies with their delicate sensibilities didn't have to struggle to keep their households together, or ride herd on three brothers. Well, two brothers. Tim did well enough on his own, but Fox and Trouble would be the death of her.
It gave her pause to think, though, that if she didn't marry what did the future hold? Her brothers were all old enough to soon seek their fortunes on their own. Would she be left with a house falling down around her ears, worried about brothers who were trying to make their way elsewhere? It was reasonable enough for her to keep the household while the boys had been younger, but didn't make as much sense for the future.
What was it to be, then? Marriage? Return home? She frowned. Perhaps she was the one who should go off to seek her fortune. Certainly becoming a pirate couldn't be worse than marrying one of these men in London.
They spent the afternoon and into the evening drinking watered down ale at taverns along the north side of Town where the Chase brother would be most likely to enter London. Laurence specifically chose spots where someone who looked like Fox would fit in, which meant that some tavern keeps gave Laurence a suspicious eye due to his fine clothing. It was quite common for lordlings to frequent low establishments, but it was usually only those that catered to the prurient appetites. These more settled, neighborhood establishments weren't used to such patrons. Nor did they seem to want them.
"Haven't seen him," the latest tavern keep said, setting yet another overpriced mug down in front of Laurence. Fox had taken to their mission quite enthusiastically once he realized that Laurence was paying. At each location they had asked after Trouble, as Fox's younger brother was called, describing him in some detail as they ordered their drinks. They had yet to uncover even a hint of the young man.
"Do you think he'd have interest in the gaming hells?" Laurence asked.
"I do," Fox said with a grin, "does that count?"
Laurence merely raised a brow.
Fox scowled and shrugged. "Trouble is always looking for something interesting, but he's as likely to be interested in a field of cows as a gaming hell."
"A field of cows?"
"He was intrigued by their markings. And ended up being chased by the bull, of course." The younger man's misty smile made Laurence realize that Fox's enthusiasm with drink had begun to affect him, even as watered down as it was.
"Perhaps we should quit the field for the evening, and start back fresh in the morning. Young men can be so much easier to find once they've gone to roost, and they tend not to stir early. Would you rather that I deliver you to Lady Grace's, or stay with me this eve?"
"I can stay with you? How hospitable. It would be best if I didn't go to Agatha without Trouble in tow. At least not if you don't want her out searching the streets herself."
"Why did you go to her in the first place?"
Fox
sat back and eyed Laurence. "You probably don't think much of me, running to my sister's skirts when there's a problem. But you don't know Aggie the way I do. She would never forgive me, and worse yet would never forgive herself, if she were blithely dancing and laughing in London when something was wrong."
Laurence tried to imagine Miss Chase dancing and laughing, but it was deucedly difficult. "It never occurred to either of you that a young man of six and ten might be perfectly capable of taking care of himself?"
At that Fox grinned again. "He's Trouble. Sooner or later he'll need help. Don't think it didn't occur to me to just wait until someone came looking for me on his behalf. When Trouble gets into trouble, he usually does so spectacularly."
Chapter 9
Agatha had waited all day to hear news, in vain. When a carriage rattled to a stop outside she flew down the steps to discover the viscount stepping into the front hall, dressed splendidly in deep green and white.
"You're not dressed, Miss Chase," he admonished.
"Where is my brother?" she demanded.
He ran his gloves through his hand, but she wasn't sure if that was simply a sign of impatience. "Fox is still out looking for Trouble. As there is nothing we can presently do, I thought it best to keep my commitment to take you to the Sorrel ball."
"I'm not going to a ball while my brother is still unaccounted for," she said indignantly.
"How else are you to, how did you put it? Sell yourself off in marriage if you don't display your wares? Fox assures me that Trouble has that nickname for a reason. Problems are expensive, Miss Chase. And like most things, are even more so in the city."
There was an awful, terrible logic to what he said. He was horrible and arrogant and she would prefer never to see him again, but he was correct. And even if she was beginning to loath him, he was the only one here offering to escort her. She turned back and hollered up the steps, beyond caring what anyone thought. "Lady Grace, we're going to the ball after all!"
Laurence led Miss Chase out for the first dance, as they'd arrived barely in time for it. She no longer ducked her gaze, but stared at him straight on in what he might describe as a reproachful glare. Medusa would be proud to master such a gaze.
"Why are you angry at me, Miss Chase? I am only trying to help."
"Of course," she answered, and lowered her gaze to his cravat.
"Oh no, you'll not retreat into silence again. Tell me what you're thinking."
Her eyes met his, snapping with even more fire, if that was possible. "You are arrogant and controlling."
Her vehemence almost startled him into a misstep. "I'm what? What gives you that idea?"
"Everything gives me that idea, starting with how you stood by smirking while your toady arranged all these outings for you. I'm not sure what favor you owed the duke, but consider it repaid."
"Tom was the one who owed the duke favors. I don't even know the bloody duke. I thought I was to escort you once and was astounded, standing there while he planned an entire fortnight of entertainments for us."
Her brows furrowed. "That's ridiculous, you don't seem the type who could be coerced into anything."
"Coerced, no. But it's hardly coercion when a friend asks for a favor, and then extends that favor in polite company where you can't counter him."
She blinked in surprise and then averted her face. "Yes, well, that doesn't mean you're any less horrible."
Laurence almost laughed. The entire time she had been acting the limp rag what impression had he given her? Arrogant? Controlling? He would grant that he had the bearing of an officer, but that was hardly unusual in the men of his class. Perhaps she hated all the men here.
"If it makes you feel any better," he said, "I don't want to be here either."
Startled, Agatha looked up at Lord Garner. "Why not?"
"I was hoping to go to India this year. America the year after that. Or stop in the West Indies for a bit. Have you ever wanted to travel, Miss Chase?"
"The thought never occurred to me," she answered quite honestly.
"I'm sure the thought never occurred to Horace either. You would have liked my brother, Miss Chase. He was both arrogant and controlling, but had the good grace never to seem that way."
"Wouldn't that be all the worse, to hide such a nature?"
He smiled at her. A wicked smile. "Be careful casting stones, Miss Chase."
She opened her mouth to retort, but then wisely closed it again. She had been deceptively placid, it was true. "You were the one who wanted me to talk," she finally said grumpily.
"It's far more entertaining than escorting a limp rag about town."
"Limp rag?" She felt a bit outraged.
"Oh, was that an arrogant and controlling thing to say?" He kept his tone innocent, but his smile was devilish.
Perhaps Lord Garner was more playful than she realized, but that didn't mean she had to like him. Not at all.
Chapter 10
Miss Chase had expressed her worry over her brother's whereabouts enough times at the ball that Laurence went out to the gaming hells that very evening looking for the lad. And the next. He had sympathy for anyone worrying over a brother, as apparently he should have worried over his own a bit more than he had. That second night he accidentally dug up another person he'd been meaning to see.
"Tom, old chap."
The mild start his friend gave confirmed an attempt to lay low following his entrapment. "Laurie, old fellow. Fancy seeing you here."
"I'm looking for a lad who may have come through. Young, brown hair, goes by the name Trouble."
Tom smiled. "Typically when I see trouble I go the other way."
"Yes, you do. In this case, however, I'd be grateful if you brought him my way."
"Oh? How grateful?" his friend asked.
"Grateful enough to crack out some of Horace's best brandy."
"Delightful!"
"Not quite grateful enough to forgive you for arranging an entire fortnight with that girl."
"Oh, yes, that."
"Yes, that."
"The duke thinks you would suit."
"I've never met the duke. She's never met the duke. What does the duke bloody know?"
"Who is this Trouble fellow?"
"Her brother."
"Barely a week and you're out skulking about gaming hells looking for her brother? I'd say the duke knows something."
Laurence glowered at his friend. It was simply a favor he would do for anyone.
Agatha was pleased that the viscount had canceled their curricle ride for the day, as she would rather that someone be looking for Trouble. If they were home she would feel perfectly comfortable tromping over the countryside looking for him herself, but London presented challenges and perils she wasn't sure about. And they were doubly difficult if she were to maintain her reputation as a lady. All that meant she was cooling her heels impatiently in the drawing room, wondering what was happening.
The butler knocked before entering and announced. "Mr. Chase."
Agatha expected to see Fox and was already rushing forward to ask him the latest news, but it was Trouble instead. He was tired and a bit dirtier than usual, but didn't look the worse for wear.
"Saint Agatha!" he said. He loved to tease her with the nickname, especially when he thought she would be scolding. "Are you a sight for sore eyes!"
"Trouble!" She hugged her brother fiercely before stepping back. "Where did they find you? Where are they?"
"Where did who find me? I found you."
"Fox and the viscount didn't find you?"
"No. Who is the viscount?"
"Never mind that. When did you get to London? Where have you been?"
He proceeded to tell her a quintessentially Trouble story about how he walked to London and stopped along the way to stay at friendly farms, even helping one farmer plow for an entire day. She ordered tea, dispatched a footman to apprise the viscount and Fox that Trouble had been found, and ordered a bath for her brother. She wouldn't
have the largess of Lady Grace's home for long, so they might as well enjoy it while they could.
They had been out so late the night before that Laurence was still abed when his butler gently cleared his throat and said, "My lord?"
He didn't have quite the hangover he'd had that morning at the creek, but this one wasn't far behind it. "Mmm," he said noncommittally.
"A message from Miss Chase, my lord."
It wasn't enough that she'd started to haunt his dreams, she had to haunt his hangovers as well? "What is it?"
"Trouble has been found."
Laurence sat up and felt his head swim a bit. "Where is Mr. Chase?"
"He left as soon as he received the message, my lord."
The message was from Miss Chase, and that meant for all the time they'd spent hying after the boy around London, he'd been planning to go to his sister anyway. What was it with these Chase men? Set them loose and they went straight to her. Laurence found her feisty, high-handed manner entertaining, but he knew that was at least partly because he didn't have to deal with it as a matter of course. It was also a refreshing change from the limp rag, but he was certain the appeal of it would wear thin soon. As they only had two events remaining in their plans, that was all the better. He didn't have to see her today if he didn't wish.
