Drawing herself up, Laurel fought to retain a hold upon her emotions. She'd made a dreadful mistake by trusting Royce. He'd already stolen her hard-won faith; she wouldn't allow him to take her dignity as well.
Lifting her chin, Laurel quietly asked, "Exactly what is the wager?"
"Apparently, Lord Van Cleef felt that finding a bride would—"
"Finding a what?"
"A bride," Harriet repeated. "He decided it was time to marry and remarked to his friends, the two gentlemen I overheard, that they'd gone about the business of securing a wife in the wrong fashion."
"The business of securing a wife," Laurel murmured as anger began to simmer inside of her. "And did the two gentlemen say anything else about this lovely wager?"
"Only that Lord Van Cleef had applied the rules of fox hunting to catching you and felt the battle was won. He intends to call upon your father to finalize his plan." Squeezing Laurel's arm, Harriet tried to smile. "At least this time you uncovered Lord Van Cleef's true nature before you agreed to marry him."
Bitterness swelled within her. "There shouldn't have been a 'this time' at all, Harriet. I foolishly allowed myself to forget the most important lesson of my life." Memories of Royce's touch flittered through her mind, but Laurel pushed them aside. "I won't forget ever again."
* * *
"Royce!" murmured Elizabeth Van Cleef as she set down her quill. "I wasn't expecting you to call upon me."
"Hello, Mother." Bending down, Royce pressed a quick kiss onto his mother's cheek in their traditional polite greeting. Cool and polite described their relationship to perfection. "I apologize for coming around unannounced, but I have some important news I felt I should share with you."
His mother lifted her brows.
"Within a few days, I shall propose to Lady Laurel Simmons."
Slapping both hands on her desk, Elizabeth pushed to her feet. "You can't be serious."
"It seems I am destined to disappoint you, Mother, for I assure you I am most serious," Royce replied, bracing himself for her response.
"Laurel Simmons has neither the reputation nor the breeding for her to become the next Countess of Tewksbury." Rounding her desk, Elizabeth placed herself directly in front of her son. "I must insist that you rid yourself of this nonsensical decision and choose a more appropriate bride."
"You insist?" Royce asked, his voice low and steady.
"As your mother, it is my right. If your father were alive, naturally he would have guided you in this choice, though I doubt if he would have been of much assistance. However, it is now up to me to help you make a wise decision."
"I have made a wise decision, Mother," Royce said firmly. "Lady Laurel is a fine, well-bred lady who will do our family name proud."
"She has a scandal in her past, a broken engagement."
"Yes, I know."
Her eyes widening in amazement, his mother shook her head. "You know? Yet you still consider her worthy of the title I have struggled to protect?"
"I fail to see how the matter of her broken engagement would in any way affect the honor of our family name," Royce countered calmly, far too accustomed to his mother's rigid stance to become upset. "Lady Laurel has many fine qualities which are more than befitting the station."
"I won't allow you to do this," Elizabeth said, setting her jaw. "It would not be in your best interest."
How could his mother possibly know what was in his best interest? She didn't even know him.
Sadness touched him at the realization that his relationship with his mother had never allowed for warmth or acceptance. His entire life had been filled with lectures on duty, reminders of his obligations, and stern repercussions when he failed. Early on, he'd learned to strategize in order to outwit his mother.
However, this time, for the first time, he wasn't going to mince words.
"I wasn't asking your permission, Mother," Royce said softly, meeting his mother's glare without flinching. "I was merely informing you of my decision."
Despite her protest, Royce bowed in farewell, turned on his heel, and strode from the room, leaving his mother sputtering behind him.
* * *
Fox hunting!
Fuming at the very arrogance of the man, Laurel vowed to teach him a lesson. When Archie had betrayed her, she'd allowed him to simply walk away, leaving her to face the gossip and innuendos.
And she'd survived.
But she'd made the mistake of trusting Royce and relearned the most painful lesson of her life. While she'd allowed Archie to walk away unscathed, Royce would not be so lucky.
All she needed to do now was figure out a way to hand Royce his comeuppance. After all, any man who tried to "capture" a wife by using the rules of fox hunting deserved—
Fox hunting.
That was it! She would turn the tables on Royce by countering all of his maneuvers, twisting him around until he didn't know who was the hunter and who was the prey. It was a perfect plan. She would go home and question her father about the strategy behind the hunt. Then, she'd apply her newly learned strategy on Royce and see how he enjoyed being the quarry for a change.
If Royce wanted a hunt, then she was more than willing to accommodate him.
Let the game begin!
* * *
Chapter 6
« ^ »
Despite the people milling about the opera hall, Laurel was aware of the instant Royce entered the room. Fighting every instinct to flee, Laurel did her very best to keep her mind on the conversation at hand and to ignore Royce's determined strides toward her. "You are quite the charmer, Lord Morris," she murmured before tapping his forearm with her fan. "I vow I'm in danger of losing my heart around you."
Steven laughed at her quip. "If only that were true, my lady," he returned smoothly.
Coming to a halt next to her, Royce clasped Laurel's hand and bowed over it. "Good evening, Laurel," he said, his tone low and intimate. Barely looking at his friend, he continued, "Hello, Steven. I wasn't expecting to see you at the Opera this evening. I thought you were still in the country."
"No, I decided to rejoin society for a bit." Steven smiled brightly at Laurel. "And it's a lucky thing I did too. Otherwise I wouldn't have been afforded the pleasure of this lovely lady's company."
Royce's smile grew strained. "My Laurel is a delight, isn't she?"
"Your Laurel, my lord?" she asked with a forced laugh. "How you jest, sir."
A slight frown etched Royce's brow. "I wasn't trying to be amusing."
"There you go again," Laurel replied playfully. "Pretending to be serious as if we have some sort of arrangement or understanding. You're going to give people the wrong impression, my lord."
Royce grew very still. "Might I have a word with you?" he asked quietly, before glancing at Steven. "In private."
Before Laurel could refuse Royce, Steven took the decision out of her hands.
"Subtlety was never your strong suit, old boy," Steven remarked dryly. "But nevertheless, I do believe I'll … take a stroll."
"There's no need for that," Laurel said as brightly as she could manage while reaching our to clasp Steven's arm. "I was so enjoying our conversation."
Lifting her hand to his mouth, Steven pressed a kiss onto her fingers. "As much as I'd love to keep you company, I'm afraid that I'm far too much of a coward." He glanced at Royce. "You see, I've seen Royce practice his fisticuffs … and he has quite the right hook." Fingering his jaw, Steven added, "And I rather like the way I look."
Smiling at Steven's quip, Laurel drew in a deep, steadying breath before she turned to face Royce. "Your friend is utterly charming, my lord."
"How did we get back to 'my lord'?" Royce asked, clearly puzzled.
Touching her hand to her forehead, she apologized prettily. "How foolish of me," she replied with a laugh. "Naturally, I meant to say Royce. Perhaps my mind is still spinning with all of Steven's compliments."
Royce looked nonplussed. "I notice you have no trouble remembering to a
ddress my friend by his first name."
She broadened her smile, deciding to let him make of her response what he would.
Apparently, the conclusion he drew was not favorable. Frowning, Royce took a step closer, ensuring their conversation wouldn't be overheard. "I'm afraid I'm at a loss, Laurel. After our carriage ride, I thought we understood one another. I thought we were becoming … intimates."
Immediately a spark of fury ignited within her. He'd lied to her! That's the only thing that Laurel understood, the one thing of which she was certain. "Of course we're friends, Royce." She fluttered her fan toward him. "In fact, I owe you a great debt of gratitude."
"You do?"
"Most certainly," she replied. "I do so appreciate you encouraging me to indulge in my fantasies, to allow myself to be swept away. I now realize that I'd been shutting myself off from all sorts of eligible men." Laurel kept her tone light and airy. "I can't thank you enough for encouraging me to let go of the past."
Royce visibly relaxed. "It relieves me to hear that, Laurel. In fact, there's a private matter I wish to speak—"
"Is there?" she interrupted. "That is quite the coincidence, then, for I wanted to ask you a question as well." Leaning in even closer, Laurel glanced around the room. "Is Steven courting anyone?"
She watched with great satisfaction as Royce clenched his jaw so tightly that a little tick started jumping in his cheek. "Steven?" Royce hissed. "Why the devil are you making inquiries about him?"
Shifting her expression into one of disbelief, Laurel sent another quick glance around the room; knowing her drifting attention would upset Royce further. "I should think that would be rather obvious, Royce."
His shock was clear. "You're interested in that lech, Steven? Is that what you're insinuating?"
"Shhh," she whispered, silently pleased at his anger. "I don't know why you find it so hard to believe that I could be intrigued by your friend. He's really a lovely gentleman. But please don't worry overmuch about him. I'm not quite ready to settle upon any one gentleman. I'm finding flirting all too enjoyable at the moment."
A vein in Royce's temple began to pulse alarmingly.
"And I have you to thank for my new-found pleasure. If you hadn't encouraged me to revisit my dreams, I never would have even considered marriage again." She reached our and patted Royce on the arm. "You're a wonderful friend, Royce, and I'll never forget all you've done for me."
Looking pale, Royce just shook his head, obviously at a loss for words.
Extremely pleased with herself, Laurel decided it was time for her grand exit. Glancing around again, she gave a quick wave to Harriet, who stood across the large foyer. "Oh, good. There's Harriet," Laurel began, glancing at Royce. "You wouldn't mind if I joined her, would you, my lord? I've got so much to tell her!"
Tossing him a grin over her shoulder, Laurel felt his eyes upon her as she walked across the room.
Victorious.
* * *
If she had rapped him across the face with her fan, she couldn't have shocked him more. Royce watched Laurel saunter away, too stunned to call her back. Hell, he wasn't even quite certain he could speak.
What the devil had happened? He'd been so certain that his plan was progressing perfectly, never once considering this outcome. What the devil did she think she was doing, flirting with Morris and Lord knew who else? He'd wanted, yes, he'd urged, Laurel to forget her past, to cut off the shackles of fear that had burdened her for far too long. But never once had he imagined that she would embrace her freedom with such … enthusiasm.
Dear God, he'd created a monster!
Rubbing two fingers against his temple, Royce tried to set his annoyance aside. What he needed to do now was come up with another plan to overcome this setback.
If he didn't devise a new strategy … and quickly, he just might lose the prize. There was no way he could think properly while watching Laurel flirt outrageously with every man in the room. He'd head over to White's and enjoy a drink while concocting his next move, then, in the morning, he'd pay a little visit to his old friend, Steven … and dissuade the man from pursuing any interest in Laurel.
He only hoped he wouldn't have to visit every eligible gentleman in London before the game was won.
* * *
"I can see quite clearly now that I handled the entire situation incorrectly," Royce admitted, handing a brandy to William. "My only excuse is that she took me completely by surprise." He gestured toward James, who sat next to William. "I ask you, how is a man supposed to respond to his lady announcing she's going to put herself on the market?" Snorting once, Royce shook his head. "No gentleman worth his salt could use charm in that situation."
"Indeed not," William concurred. "The fact that you were able to handle the matter as well as you did is commendable."
Mollified, Royce sat back in his chair. "I thought so as well."
"What are you going to do next?" James asked as he gestured for another drink.
"Obviously I'm going to have to shift my plan … as my quarry has proven more elusive than I first thought."
Shifting in his chair, William asked, "And does that worry you?"
Royce considered the question. "At first her evasiveness did, but now I'll admit that I find her skill at countering my every move quite challenging."
"I knew it!" James crowed, clapping his hands together.
When William kicked at James's booted foot, Royce wondered at their peculiar behavior. What was wrong with the two of them? But before he could voice his questions, James began to speak again.
"What I mean is, I knew you'd enjoy the added challenge."
William nodded eagerly. "Indeed, you're quite the hunter."
"Thank you, William. It's amusing that you say that, because it ties in so neatly with the new plan I've devised."
With a gleam in his eyes, James leaned forward. "Oh?"
Smiling at his friends, Royce took a sip of his brandy before responding, "I'm going to enlist the aid of another hunter." He took in his friends' befuddled expressions and hoped the change in strategy would affect Laurel in much the same manner. "After all, it's a well-known fact that a fox hunt is far more successful when it is a group activity."
"Well, I'm certainly willing to help," William piped up, his response seeming a tad too energetic to Royce.
"As am I," James chimed in.
"Thank you both, but I believe the aid should come from someone close to Laurel." Folding his hands onto his lap, Royce wondered at their unexpected enthusiasm. "Someone she'd never suspect."
"Come now, Royce, you can't leave us dangling." James glanced toward William, the furtive look striking Royce as odd. "Give us a name."
Deciding that his friends were merely worried that he'd win their wager, Royce finally answered, "Lord Percy Simmons, The Earl of Sewley."
William's brandy sloshed in his glass. "Lady Laurel's own father?"
"One and the same."
"What makes you so certain that he'll help you?" James asked.
Folding his arms across his chest, Royce answered easily, "What father doesn't wish to see his daughter married?"
"Brilliant," whispered William with a shake of his head.
Royce called for another round of drinks as he basked in his friends' astonishment and praise.
The game was about to get very, very interesting.
* * *
"I appreciate you seeing me, sir," Royce said as he took a seat in Lord Simmons' study.
Inviting Royce to call him Percy, Laurel's father offered Royce a drink. "I know it's a bit early yet for spirits, but I'll happily join you if you care for a nip."
With a grin, Royce accepted.
After handing Royce his glass, Lord Simmons claimed the seat across from him. "I do believe this is the first time you've ever called upon me, Van Cleef," he said, his tone pleasant. "And since my daughter has mentioned you in the past few days, I assume you're here with regard to Laurel."
Admiring the older m
an's directness, Royce knew he'd made the right choice in seeking Laurel's father's aid. "Indeed I am." He set down his glass and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I wish to ask for Laurel's hand in marriage."
Lord Simmons choked on his sherry. "Good Lord, Tewksbury, you should warn a man when you're about to shock him like that." Taking a deep breath, he regained his composure. "I thought you were here to ask permission to call upon her. It seems a bit premature for talk of marriage."
Stiffening, Royce stated. "I assure you my intentions are completely honorable."
"Of course they are," Lord Simmons replied without hesitation. "That was never in question. I'm merely stunned at the impetuous nature of your proposal. After all, it's not as if you've known my daughter long enough to become smitten with her."
The tension inside of Royce released a bit. "While it's true we haven't known each other very long, the time has been sufficient to assure me that Laurel and I have quite a bit in common. I believe we would suit well. Indeed, I greatly admire your daughter."
Lord Simmons lifted his brows. "Admire? Hardly the emotion one wants when entering into a marriage."
"I beg your pardon, sir, but I disagree. I believe a solid relationship is based upon companionship, loyalty, and respect."
"With your chums, true, but not with your wife!" exclaimed Lord Simmons with a shake of his head.
"Why not?" Royce challenged. "If more marriages were approached in a logical fashion, then there wouldn't be so many affairs or indiscretions."
"There would be more. A man would swiftly grow bored in a marriage to a woman he respected," Lord Simmons nearly spat the word. "Thus increasing the rate at which he seeks … female companionship."
Warming to the subject, Royce sat back in his chair. "I disagree, sir. After all, if a man is not only physically but mentally satisfied within a marriage, then he will be less apt to look elsewhere for companionship." He spread his hands wide. "After all, why should he? He has everything he could ever desire right in his own home."
Chuckling, Lord Simmons lifted both of his hands, warding off further argument. "All right, you win. I'm not about to get embroiled in a long discussion about the merits of marrying for passion as opposed to marrying for compatibility. That is your business."
A MERRY CHASE Page 5
