Wearing satisfied grins, the two men flanked him.
"Your grand theory seems to have gone astray," James said, clasping his hands behind his back.
"There is a certain satisfaction in knowing that capturing a bride is difficult even for someone like you." William's eyes sparkled. "Welcome to the world of mortal men."
Royce glared at William. "I'm ill-humored tonight and not interested in entertaining you lackwits."
"Lackwits, he calls us," James said, leaning forward to speak with William. "Did you hear that?"
"Indeed I did," William affirmed, his tone filled with mock surprise. "Amazing how unpleasant our friend becomes when things don't fall neatly into place."
Though he knew they were right, Royce could do little to lighten his mood. Laurel had refused to see him and he hadn't even had the opportunity of bumping into her at a social function, since she'd remained at home the entire week. Frustration had eaten away at his patience until he felt like a seething coil of nerves.
Knowing that he would regret it if he gave in to his urge to knock James onto the floor, Royce decided it was past time for him to leave. "I'm off to White's," he said, trying hard not to spit out the information.
"You're leaving already?"
Nodding, Royce answered, "I'm not certain why I came in the first place."
"Really?" James shrugged lightly. "I assumed it was because you wished to snatch the ever lovely Lady Laurel off on another grand adventure." Glancing around, James asked, "Do you have a stately carriage awaiting in the wings? Or perhaps a bower of freshly strewn rose petals?"
"Since the lady in question has gone into hiding, my plans would be for naught," Royce answered in spite of himself.
With a smile playing upon his lips, William tilted his head to the side. "If it's 'hiding' she's up to, then she's picked an odd way to play the game, for she's just entered the room with her father."
In the blink of an eye, all of his frustration fell away, leaving behind a stirring excitement.
"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I believe my lady awaits."
Both men chuckled as Royce stepped toward Laurel and her father. "Good evening," he murmured, grasping Laurel's hand and bowing over it.
"Good evening, my lord."
Her even tone revealed nothing. Lifting his gaze to her face, he could detect none of the vulnerability she'd exposed during their previous meeting. "I was wondering if I might have the honor of this dance."
"I'm afraid I'll have to beg off," Laurel replied, removing her hand from his clasp. "I'm feeling somewhat fatigued this evening and am going to refrain from dancing."
Her response set him aback. "Certainly you can manage one spin around the dance floor," he replied smoothly, injecting his voice with a confidence he was far from feeling.
"You're undoubtedly correct, my lord, but it would be best if I rested."
The polite smile she offered chilled him. He'd far prefer her anger, her frustration, her tears, over this treatment. It was as if she'd decided to freeze him out with blandness.
All at once, he recognized her odd behavior as the evasive tactic it was. His only problem now was to try to figure out how to combat it.
Feeling her move away from him, Royce reached out to take hold of Laurel's arm when she suddenly paled. No, that wasn't the right word to describe the look that came oven her. All the color had drained from her in an instant as if she'd seen her own death foretold. Noticing her gaze fixed over his shoulder, Royce glanced behind him, wondering what could have caused such a reaction. The answer stood in the foyer, looking about him like royalty come to pay a visit amongst the peasants.
"Archibald Devens," Royce murmured, instinctively knowing the man's return would affect him profoundly, though he didn't yet know how.
Turning to face Laurel once more, Royce watched as her face suddenly flushed with color. Her reaction reassured him that she didn't hold any feelings for the man but anger. Settling back on his heels, Royce crossed his arms and waited for the explosion to start.
It would be wonderful to see Laurel turn her bedeviling displeasure toward someone else for a change.
* * *
Blinking twice, Laurel struggled to convince herself that her eyes weren't deceiving her.
He was back.
The heiress-hunting deceiver had finally returned from his extended European tour. Too bad, Laurel thought sourly, for it would have been wonderful to never see his lying-with-every-breath person again. Unfortunately, he'd come back, so she'd have to deal with him … right after she took care of Royce.
Inhaling deeply, Laurel returned her attention to Royce. "Pardon me, my lord, but a matter has just come up and I need to excuse myself."
"A matter?" Royce's eyes gleamed. "An interesting way to describe the return of a dishonorable ex-fiancé."
Coldness settled into her. "I hardly think you're qualified to judge a man's honor," she muttered under her breath.
But Royce heard her clearly. An affronted expression slipped onto his features as he straightened his spine. "Are you comparing me to that … that … popinjay?"
"Well, yes, I believe I am."
"I am nothing like him," Royce hissed, reaching out to clasp Laurel's elbow.
Slowly, she pulled herself free. "I'm quite certain you'd prefer to believe that to be the truth, but you, Lord Van Cleef, have more of Archie's characteristics than you would ever care to admit."
Indignation radiated from Royce, but she didn't allow him a chance to argue the point. Instead she hurried away, needing to escape the room before Archie confronted her. Her hopes of avoiding him were dashed when, mere feet from the ladies' withdrawing room, Archie closed in and cornered her.
"Hello, Laurel." His silky voice grated against her ears. "It's been a long time."
Not nearly long enough, she thought. Yet she kept the retort to herself as she didn't want to make Archie believe he'd affected her one way or the other. "Has it?" she said, pleased at the airy tone she'd managed.
He blinked. "Well, yes, yes, it has," he stuttered, before catching himself. Clearing his throat, he began again. "I see you've gotten over our … less than cordial parting."
"Oh, that?" Waving a hand, Laurel laughed breezily. "Trust me, Archie, I managed to get over you sheer moments after you left." She tilted her head to the side. "In fact, I should probably thank you for breaking it off."
"Why is that?" he asked, his brows drawing together in confusion.
Delighting in Archie's reaction, Laurel continued, keeping her voice light. "Because we would have been miserable together." She held her arms out to the side. "And as you can plainly see, I am doing perfectly fine without you."
The minute his expression changed, she knew she'd said the wrong thing. "Indeed you are," he murmured softly, allowing his gaze to drift over her.
Laurel shivered, disgusted by his look. "If you'll excuse…"
"Do you see everyone watching us, Laurel?" Archie asked, amused. "Come along and let's give them something to talk about." Grasping her hand, Archie dragged her to the dance floor.
"No, Archie," Laurel protested, trying not to make a scene. She'd been the brunt of the ton's jokes for years because of this man; she wouldn't allow him to turn her into a laughingstock a second time. "No, Archie," she said again, firmer this time.
"Be a love and dance with me … for old times sake."
"She should slap you … for old times sake."
Laurel spun to face Royce. Reaching out, he helped Laurel break free from Archie's grasp. Without another word he escorted her to the dance floor, leaving an astonished Archie behind.
"Arrogant fellow isn't he?" Royce grumbled, frowning back at Archie. "Comes back and immediately expects you to be at his beck and call."
"And that won't do at all since you want me there," Laurel replied.
"As a matter of fact, I do." Royce's fingers tightened upon hers. "But I won't ever toss you aside or treat you poorly."
But he already
had when he'd made his wager. "And I suppose that should make a difference?" she asked calmly.
"Of course," said Royce, sounding quite affronted. "You already know that I want you to be my wife."
"So did Archie," she pointed out.
"Yes, but I'm willing to actually go through with the wedding."
"As I'm certain he would have been if he hadn't inherited a fortune." Tilting her head to the side, Laurel looked at Royce. "Who knows? Perhaps he's run through the monies already and is again seeking another source."
Royce jerked beneath her fingers. "I'll be damned if it's going to be you!"
So would she, but Laurel kept that thought to herself. Instead, she simply smiled.
"Laurel," he said warily, you wouldn't entertain Devens again … would you?"
Again, she allowed Royce to draw any conclusion he wished from her silence.
"Laurel—"
Before Royce could finish his protest, Laurel was spun out of his arms and into Archie's. Laurel nearly tripped at the unexpected move, and Archie caught her up against him, pressing against her tightly. One glance over her shoulder revealed an extremely annoyed Royce standing amidst the other dancers.
"Rather nasty fellow, isn't he, Laurel? How could you have ever hooked up with him?"
Gazing up into Archie's still handsome face, Laurel wondered how she ever could have thought there was more depth to him. "That's my personal business and I have no wish to discuss it with you."
"Fair enough," Archie conceded, yet in the next breath, he said, "but you really must tell me what you saw in him. From what I remember of his reputation, Van Cleef was known as a man who enjoyed the ladies … all the ladies."
Laurel lifted her chin. "You've been gone a long time, Archie. Things are greatly changed."
"Yes, they are." A bittersweet smile curved upon Archie's lips. "You're no longer the sweet innocent I left behind, are you?"
For a moment, Laurel didn't know how to respond, but then, as always, humor came to her rescue. Tossing back her head, she laughed aloud at Archie's remark. "No, Archie, but I have you to thank for that. I do so appreciate your efforts in educating me."
Wearing a look of chagrin, Archie seemed at a loss for words.
An instant later, Laurel felt someone whirl her out of Archie's arms. She bumped against Royce, who began to lead her into the dance again, but she'd had enough.
"No," she cried, not caring that everyone in the room suddenly stilled to watch them. "Enough."
"Laurel—" Royce and Archie chimed in unison.
Lifting her hands, Laurel cut off their protests. "I'm not a prize to be fought over, nor am I a marionette to dance to your tune. What I am, gentlemen, is tired of being chased for the wrong reasons." She glared fiercely at them. "Please feel free to dance with each other, because my time is no longer going to be wasted on either one of you."
She felt like spitting out the last words, but miraculously retained control over her fury. Thoroughly disgusted with the actions of both Archie and Royce, she turned on her heel and began to stride away.
"Laurel—" Royce began again, only to be cut off by Archie.
"Just what are we supposed to do now?" he called after her.
Twisting to face them once more, she shook her head. "I don't know and I don't care. Just keep me out of the entire mess." Wiping her hands together, she smiled at them. "I'm wiping myself free of you both."
As she left the room. Laurel was aware of the hushed whispers flying about the dance floor … and she couldn't have cared less. If having the ton gossip about her was the price she'd be forced to pay, she'd gladly do it if it would keep both Royce and Archie away from her.
She couldn't afford to allow either one close to her again, for Royce could cause her pain and Archie, well, he just was a pain.
* * *
Chapter 12
« ^ »
"There is a young lady here to see you," announced Giles, disapproval reverberating in every word. "Without a chaperone," he added with a sniff.
Eagerly, Royce leapt up from behind his desk, scattering papers in his haste. "Thank you," he said as he rushed past the butler and into the foyer.
His excitement died at the unwelcome sight of Margaret St. John. "Lady Margaret," he said, swallowing his disappointment. "This is … unexpected."
"Like all surprises, sometimes it is the unexpected ones that turn out to be the most pleasant," Margaret said, stepping closer.
While Royce agreed with the sentiment, he certainly wouldn't apply it to this particular surprise. Nonetheless, he smiled wanly and said, "True enough."
Aware of Giles's disapproving gaze, Royce escorted Margaret into his study and shut the door firmly behind them. "How may I be of assistance, Lady Margaret."
Instead of answering him, she launched herself against him. "There's no need to play coy, Royce. We're alone now."
Holding his arms akimbo, Royce looked down at the woman pressed against him, scrambling to decide what to do with her. "Lady Margaret, please."
"There's no need to hide your passion from me," she whispered, lifting her face to him. "I know I'm the woman you've chosen."
"What's that?" He must have heard her wrong.
Cuddling against his chest, she lowered her lashes, then gazed up at him soulfully. "Don't try to deny it, Royce. When I heard what happened at the Hammingtons', I knew you wanted me."
He shook his head in confusion. "I'm afraid I'm still not following you."
"It's all over town that you were found in Laurel Simmons' bedchamber."
For the life of him, he couldn't follow her logic. "And this bit of gossip pertains to you … how?" he said, grasping her shoulders, trying to gently extricate himself from her embrace.
"Oh, you silly," she teased, clinging to him like a barnacle on a boat. "You know very well that I was assigned that room until I was forced to cancel my visit. Lady Hammington told me that everyone knew Lady Laurel was merely a last minute addition to the party." Rubbing against him, Margaret dropped her voice to a purr. "I only wish I hadn't been hosting a dinner party for my father. If I had attended the Hammingtons' party, we could have had a bit of sport before we announce the banns."
Again, he pushed her away from him, this time succeeding in his efforts. Holding her at arm's length, he attempted to reason with her. "I don't wish to disappoint you, Lady Margaret, but I'm afraid you're mistaken."
"There's no need to be shy with me," she cooed, reaching out to place her hand upon his cheek.
"I assure you, you are mistaken." Royce removed her hand from his face. "The reason I was in Lady Laurel's room that night was because I'd switched rooms with her after she heard rodents in the wall."
His explanation brought a halt to Margaret's squirming. "You weren't seeking me out then?"
"While I find your company pleasant, no, I did not intentionally seek you out."
An unattractive flush darkened her cheeks as she stepped back from him. "Then I have made a fool of myself."
"No," he hurried to reassure her. "Not at all. In fact, no one need learn of this visit. It will go no further than this room."
"Don't be naive, Royce. Haven't you learned yet that even the walls have ears?"
He wished he could deny her assertion, but he could not. "Then I shall simply inform my staff that you came to call upon me with concerns about my mother."
"Very well," Margaret agreed stiffly. Walking to the door, she paused with her hand on the knob and turned back toward him. "I won't soon forget this humiliation."
"Again, my apologies," he murmured, unable to think of another response. Bowing politely, Royce straightened to find the room empty. A slam of the front door announced Margaret's departure from the house.
Wincing at the sound, Royce sank down into his chair and wished he'd found a way to handle it better. But how? Even now, Royce couldn't think of a gentler manner to let Lady Margaret know she'd made a horrible mistake. Lord, the way she'd clung to him, he couldn't even
imagine entertaining the thought of marrying her.
And yet, he thought, eyeing the settee along the wall, if it had been Laurel who'd come to call, the afternoon would have ended far differently.
* * *
"Pardon me, Lady Laurel, but a gentleman has come to call."
Accepting the card from the maid, Laurel couldn't suppress a groan as she read the name. Lord Archibald Devens.
Just wonderful.
"Please give Lord Devens my apologies and…"
"Come now, love, there's no need to offer your apologies," Archie murmured as he strolled into the room. "if you see me now, then there will be no need to get back to me."
Dismissing the maid with a nod, Laurel steeled herself to receive Archie. As soon as the door clicked shut, she asked calmly, "What can I do for you, Lord Devens?"
"Lord Devens?" Archie slanted a smile at her that once would have turned her heart. "My, how formal you've become. I used to be Archie."
"You used to be many things, Archie, but that was long ago." She affected a pleasant expression. "Now, what may I do for you, Lord Devens?"
Pressing a hand to his chest, Archie acted wounded. "You've grown cold over the years."
"No," she disagreed smoothly, "only smarter."
With a graceful sweep of his arm, Archie fell to one knee before her. "I throw myself on your mercy and beg you forgive me for breaking our engagement," he said, rounding every syllable. "In all of Europe I failed to find anyone quite like you, Laurel."
"I well believe that, my lord, for someone as naive as I once was must be rare indeed."
"It's not that at all, my dear Laurel, but rather your sweetness of nature, the charm of your personality, your very essence, which makes you unique."
Shaking her head over his verbose prose, Laurel would give him no ground. "Have you run through your funds already, Archie? I suppose you're again seeking an heiress. Why didn't you find one in Europe? Were the women too cagey for you? I imagine that since you'd had such luck with me, you might return to where you found such ripe pickings."
A MERRY CHASE Page 11
