A MERRY CHASE

by VICTORIA MALVEY

  Beginning to shake from relief, Laurel nodded once. "Yes," she whispered.

  Royce's entire body vibrated with ill-suppressed emotions. "Shall I tear him apart for you?"

  Though she wanted to say yes, Laurel forced herself to shake her head. "Please don't, Royce. He's not worth the effort."

  For a moment she didn't think he'd honor her request, but after a long hesitation, Royce stepped back from where Archie lay upon the floor, cradling his jaw.

  "If that's what you want…" Royce finally said, still glaring down at Archie.

  Laurel could see the fury still flowing strong within him, yet he held it back because she'd asked it of him. "Thank you, Royce," she whispered.

  "Go find your father, so we can decide what to do with this piece of offal." Royce nudged Archie none-too-gently with the toe of his boot.

  Walking toward the door, Laurel paused with her hand on the knob. "I'll be back in a moment."

  Royce glanced over his shoulder. "We're not going anywhere," he said wryly.

  "I think you— Royce!"

  Shouting his name, Laurel watched in horror as Archie kicked out with his foot, catching the inside of Royce's thigh, sending him crashing to the floor. Grimacing, Royce pushed himself up until he sat on top of Archie. Pulling back his hand, he let loose a punch, hitting Archie square in the jaw and sending his head knocking against the floor.

  About to rush over to Royce, Laurel felt the door push open, but before she could move out of the way, she was shoved against the wall, completely hidden from view.

  "Good God!" exclaimed Lord Hammington. "This is getting to be a habit for you, isn't it Van Cleef?"

  * * *

  "I hope you're not annoyed at me for staying out of sight," Laurel said to Royce as they slipped out the side door, heading toward the carriages.

  "Not at all," he reassured her. "I wanted you to stay out of sight. In fact, I even positioned myself in front of the open door to ensure that you stayed hidden."

  "Lord Hammington was scandalized enough; I can't imagine his response if he'd realized I was in the room as well," Laurel said, stepping into Royce's carriage.

  "That's true." Royce followed her into the conveyance, taking a seat next to her. "However, instead of being on a bed with another man, I was sitting atop him this time."

  She couldn't help but smile. "I can picture it quite vividly."

  "I vow, Laurel, the members of the ton are going to think I'm a bit … odd if this continues to happen." Gently, he stroked her hair away from her face. "I'm just glad that your name wasn't associated with that scene."

  "It was really very gallant of you to protect me like that. And I appreciate you braving the ballroom to explain to my father what had happened."

  "I will admit that the looks I received told me that everyone had heard of my latest foible," Royce admitted. "Thankfully, your father understood what had really transpired."

  "I imagine he was as grateful as I," Laurel said, laying a hand upon Royce's leg. "Did Archie injure you?"

  "Not at all," he replied, his voice tight. Clearing his throat, Royce reached for her hand and, removing it from his leg, held it within his. "I think you should know that once again Lord Hammington received a missive requesting his presence in the morning room."

  "Just like at his country party," Laurel said with a gasp.

  "Yes, and you would have been discovered kissing Devens."

  "Not by choice," she corrected, wiping at her mouth. "I can't fathom that someone would go to all the trouble of arranging for someone to make improper advances, then ensuring that the act is witnessed—" She broke off as the reality of the situation hit her. "Good Heavens, there really was someone at my door that night in the country, wasn't there?"

  "Now you believe me?" Royce replied with a laugh. "And all it took was being kissed against your will and getting knocked behind a door."

  "Some of us are harder to convince than others," Laurel agreed, shrugging lightly. Placing her hand against his chest, she gazed up at him. "I'm sorry I ever doubted you."

  Gently, Royce leaned down and placed a sweet, tender kiss upon her swollen mouth, his touch erasing the awful memory of Archie's embrace. "You had reason."

  Wanting to tumble into Royce's arms, Laurel forced herself to straighten, pulling slightly away from him. "Do you believe Archie sent the missive?"

  "No," Royce replied, shaking his head. "I think it was Margaret St. John."

  "Why would she wish to harm my reputation?"

  "Because she believed she was the woman I'd wagered on capturing as my bride and proceeded to throw herself at me, thoroughly embarrassing herself in the process." Royce's jaw tightened. "I can only assume that she hoped I'd lose interest in you if your reputation were marred."

  "Hmm … I never tried that approach."

  "And you never will."

  Tilting her head, Laurel arched an eyebrow at Royce. "Are you telling me how to behave again?"

  "Absolutely," he said without hesitation. "Do you expect anything less from me?"

  Laughing at his unapologetic arrogance, Laurel rested her head against the seat. "Foolish me." Sighing deeply, she turned to look at Royce. "That weekend at Hammington's must have been a difficult one for you. First you are hounded by Margaret, then found with Steven, followed by an argument with me."

  Royce shook his head. "Margaret didn't confront me until after the party."

  "Then why would she arrange for someone to come to my room?"

  "Bloody hell," Royce whispered, rubbing a finger against his temple. "She can't be the one who sent the first missive, because she didn't know about you. In fact, she believed that I was looking for her that night."

  "Does this mean that we have more than one person trying to torment us?"

  "It would appear that way," Royce said, looking down at her.

  "Well," Laurel returned briskly, "I must say that I far prefer it when people actually like me."

  Her attempt at levity made Royce chuckle and, placing his arm around her, he anchored her against him. "So do I, Laurel." Slanting a look down at her, he asked, "Do you like me?"

  Laurel felt her heart race at the simple question. The response that rose to her lips frightened her far more than Archie ever could. Royce had rescued her tonight, then honored her wishes, but the painful memories of past injuries made it impossible to give him the response that echoed in her heart. Still, she needed to gift him in return.

  One corner of her mouth tilted upward as Laurel slowly nodded. "Oh, yes, Royce. I do indeed."

  * * *

  His mother arrived in a whirlwind of fury.

  "This is twice that you've been discovered in an appalling situation," she charged, slamming her reticule onto his desk. "You told that idiot Hammington that you were wrestling with Lord Devens. Are you a fool, Royce? What were you thinking? While there was no mention of that Simmons chit, I'm positive she's involved in this fiasco some way."

  "As I've said before, Lady Laurel Simmons is not open to discussion," Royce said, leaning back in his chair. "However, if you paid me a visit to discuss some other matter, I'd be more than happy to entertain you."

  "Don't be ridiculous, Royce. You know as well as I that we need to discuss this problem."

  "No, Mother, I don't see where this is a problem at all." Rising from his chair, Royce went to his sideboard and poured himself a drink. "I handled everything last night."

  "If handling it means that you played the fool for public fodder, then you did that quite nicely," she returned tartly. "And even if you won't admit it, I know that Simmons girl was involved."

  "Her name is Laurel," he said slowly.

  "Do you hear yourself?" Making a noise of disgust, Elizabeth pointed a finger at him. "Even now you defend her."

  Sighing, Royce realized he could no longer even carry on a conversation with his mother without it disintegrating into her condemning everything in his life. "If you've only come to chastise me about Laurel, then this visit is
at an end," Royce said wearily, putting down his drink and crossing his arms.

  Regally, his mother rose from her seat, her chin lifted high in the air. "I will not allow you to disgrace our family name."

  "I'm not trying to disgrace our name, Mother," Royce murmured. "I'm simply trying to live my life in a manner that makes me happy."

  "You are the Earl of Tewksbury. Your personal happiness comes second to the duties to that title."

  The sad thing was his mother truly believed that, Royce knew, for he'd never known her to be happy. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Mother." He reached for her, only to let his hand drop back to his side. "I'm afraid I disagree with you. Naturally I shall honor the family name, but not at the expense of my happiness."

  Disapproval radiated from her in unceasing waves. "I thought I'd raised you better," she informed him coldly, then, turning on her heel, she marched from the room.

  Retrieving his drink, Royce lifted it in a salute. "Good-bye, Mother," he said to his now empty study, before draining his glass.

  * * *

  Nothing was happening as he'd planned, Archie thought sourly. Taking a sip of his brandy, he looked around his rented townhouse. Lord knew, his family holdings had been sold off long ago to pay debtors. The fortune he'd inherited had come from his mother's uncle, a miserly old coot who'd hoarded every penny he'd earned. Of course the man had been in trade, but that little fact was a blot on his family history that he preferred to ignore.

  However, his trouble with Laurel wasn't quite as easy to forget. Her suspicions that he'd run through his funds were, of course, well-founded, but he didn't understand what that had to do with anything. He'd still make a solid husband for her. And if he married her, then they'd both be getting something out of the bargain.

  If only that interfering Van Cleef weren't underfoot all the time, Archie knew that Laurel would have long ago fallen back into his arms. But it seemed as if every time he tried to convince Laurel that she should take him back, Van Cleef managed to spoil everything.

  Thinking about last night, Archie was positive that Laurel was just about to twine her arm around his neck and return his kiss. The plan the St. John chit had devised had been sound and he'd been reaping the benefits … until Van Cleef interrupted them. Instead of winning Laurel's hand, all he'd ended up with was a sore jaw and a blackened eye.

  Indeed, only Van Cleef stood between him and his fortune, Archie thought with a smile. Well, he'd just have to take care of Van Cleef once and for all.

  * * *

  The maid held out a silver platter with a snowy white card resting upon it. Hesitating only for a moment, Laurel reached out and picked up the card.

  Royce Van Cleef, the Earl of Tewksbury.

  Sighing, she laid the card back down. "Please show him in to the morning room." She watched the maid leave the study, all the while wanting to call her back, to ask her to tell Lord Van Cleef that she wasn't at home.

  Guilt bit into her, making her feel absolutely horrid for thinking such thoughts, but she couldn't help it. Lately, Royce had been wonderful to her, even coming to her rescue several times, but deep inside she wondered if his actions were prompted out of true concern for her or because he wished to step into her good graces. The thought had plagued her all last evening, disturbing her sleep and stealing her appetite. Laurel heartily wished Royce hadn't called upon her today; it was far easier to deny her feelings when he wasn't around.

  It was critically important that she guard herself against him for she'd gone and done a terribly foolish thing. She'd fallen in love with him and left herself open to heartache … yet again.

  But she'd never reveal that secret to Royce and hand him the power to devastate her. Instead, she'd treat him as a friend, allowing him into her heart with fondness, but locking away any deeper emotions.

  It was the safest course.

  Satisfied that she'd made the right decision, Laurel rose from her desk, leaving the week's dinner menu undone. When she arrived at the morning room, Laurel greeted Royce, who was surveying the glass birds upon the mantel. "This is an unexpected surprise."

  "I hope it's not an unpleasant one."

  "Of course not," she rushed to assure him. "Having rescued me from Archie earns you the right to call upon me anytime."

  "I'll remember that," he returned with a grin.

  Laurel could have kicked herself for offering him open access to her home. Having Royce constantly underfoot was the last thing she needed in her life.

  "Would you care for some refreshments?"

  Shaking his head, Royce politely declined her offer. "I'm unable to stay long, but I did want to discuss my plan with you."

  "Plan?" she asked, uncertain what Royce meant. "I thought we'd simply continue on as we have been."

  "Let me remind you, Laurel, that in the past few days you've had someone try to sneak into your room," he began, ticking off each point with his fingers, "you've nearly been injured by a runaway horse, your wardrobe had been destroyed, and you were accosted by your ex-fiancé at a party." He leaned against the mantel. "From where I'm standing, it doesn't look like your current plan has been working."

  Flushing, Laurel accepted his comments as truth. "Well, if you put it that way—"

  Royce shook his head. "Trust me, Laurel. There is no other way to phrase the threat you face to make it more palatable. No matter how you look at it, the entire situation is hazardous to your health."

  Dropping down into a chair, she gazed up at him. "Very well, then, what would you suggest we do?"

  "First and foremost, you never, ever go off with Devens."

  She waved a hand at him. "That goes unspoken."

  "I thought as much, but I prefer to be certain." Heading for a chair, Royce favored his right leg, wincing slightly as he gingerly lowered himself into the chair.

  "You are hurt." Laurel rushed to his side, dropping to her knees before him. "You should have told me immediately."

  "It will pass," he said matter-of-factly. "My leg is a bit bruised and I must be favoring it more than I realized."

  He was obviously chagrined to have shown her any weakness, yet instead of making her believe him less manly, the knowledge that he'd been injured while defending her made her want to wrap her arms around him and hold him until the pain went away. Now where did that thought come from?

  Swallowing her gasp, she jerked backward, almost failing onto her behind before she managed to steady herself and retake her seat. "What shall we do going forth?"

  "I believe the first thing I'm going to do is to pay visits to Lady Margaret St. John and Devens."

  "To convince them to cease in their nasty games," Laurel concluded.

  Nodding once, Royce rubbed the muscle in his thigh. "Precisely. Hopefully they'll be smart enough to heed the warning."

  "And if they're not?"

  Royce's features hardened. "Then we'll have to do a stronger job of convincing them."

  Shivering at his ominous tone, Laurel said, "With those two out of the way, perhaps things can return to normal for us."

  "I'm not certain of that," Royce admitted, scraping his hand along his jaw. "We've already concluded that Margaret wouldn't have arranged for someone to enter your suite at the Hammingtons' party."

  "And Archie hadn't yet returned to England," Laurel supplied.

  "Indeed." Frowning, Royce continued, "But I don't know who would have tried to enter your room that night. If not for the note to Hammington, I would assume that the fellow simply stumbled upon the wrong room." He shook his head. "What really baffles me is that missive. We can't connect either Devens or Lady Margaret with the first incident, yet they used the exact ploy last night."

  "It seems to be too much of a coincidence," Laurel agreed.

  "Quite."

  Toying with the fabric in her skirt, Laurel shook her head. "I find it hard to believe that we have so many people opposed to the idea of you and me together—not that we are," she hastened to add.

  One side
of his mouth quirked upward. "Not yet." The soft promise reverberating in those two words made Laurel shift in her chair. Choosing to ignore his vow, she continued, "How shall we discover who else is seeking to discredit us?"

  "After we remove Margaret and Devens, then we can keep a close vigil to see if the problems stop. If they do, then we know who was behind all of the pranks. If not, then we'll have to go on from there."

  "But what if Margaret and Archie continue to wreak havoc?"

  Groaning, Royce leaned his head against his chair. "You do realize, Laurel, that there is one very easy, simple way to end all of this, don't you?"

  Shaking her head, Laurel gazed at him quizzically. "What?"

  He leaned forward. "Marry me."

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  Seeing her reaction, Royce pressed onward. "If you marry me, it is certain to foil whatever plans Margaret and Devens might cook up."

  "I hardly consider that a reason for marriage," Laurel whispered.

  "Come now, Laurel, you know very well that my reasons go far deeper." Royce reached out and placed his hand over hers. "You know I've wanted to claim you for my wife from the very beginning."

  "You only wanted to claim me to win your wager," she countered. "And that doesn't count for much."

  "Things have changed," he replied vehemently.

  "So you say."

  "Indeed I do," he insisted. "And you should trust me."

  "Trust is earned, not given."

  She expected anger at her retort, but instead Royce released her hand and sat back in his chair. "Very well."

  His reaction threw her off balance. "What do you mean 'very well'?"

  "I mean that time is my ally and you will come to realize that I am trustworthy." Crooking one arm across the high back of the chair, Royce seemed completely unaffected by her rejection. "In the meantime, I shall content myself with ending the threat to you."

  Laurel looked at Royce, every nerve ending on alert.

  She sensed a ploy.

  * * *

  Chapter 16

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