"Well, then, old boy, let the game begin."
* * *
Chapter 2
« ^ »
It was happening again.
Laurel looked around the crowded ballroom, trying to catch sight of the person who was giving her the eerie feeling of being watched. While she didn't see anyone paying overt attention to her, the feeling lingered.
"Who are you looking for?"
Turning to face her dear friend, Harriet Nash, it took all of Laurel's concentration not to flush. "No one," she answered with a chagrined smile. "I'm simply allowing my vivid imagination too free a rein."
Harriet tipped her head to the side. "How so?"
"It's nothing, really," Laurel insisted, waving a hand in dismissal. "I'd feel silly even mentioning it."
"Then all the better." Harriet's lips twitched. "Feeling silly would be far preferable to suffering the boredom of this party, don't you think?"
Laughing, Laurel conceded the point with a nod.
"Very well, then, but you must promise not to laugh at me."
Harriet pressed a hand against her bodice. "You have my most solemn vow, my lady," she returned in mock seriousness.
"Jest all you like, but I will hold you to your word." Laurel took a deep breath before admitting, "For the past week, I've felt as if … someone was watching me."
Harriet's brows shot upward. "Truly?"
"Unfortunately, yes." Laurel glanced around the ballroom. "I'm certain it is my imagination playing games with me, but there are times when the feeling is quite … overwhelming."
"There must be something to your feeling, because you're not a woman prone to fanciful imaginings."
"That's very kind of you to say, Harriet," Laurel replied softly. "But I still tell myself that it's silly of me to…"
Her words trailed off when she caught sight of a man standing directly across from her on the dance floor and, something deep inside of her uncoiled as if she'd been waiting for this man to reveal himself to her.
Laurel's breath caught in her throat. "Oh my," she whispered breathlessly. Pressing a hand against her chest, she tried to steady herself, to remind herself that he was a stranger, yet her racing heart refused to calm. As if he could read her thoughts, the corner of his mouth tipped upward.
His intense gaze never faltered from her as he began to move across the room, uncaring of the couples weaving around the dance floor, unswerving in his path. The fluttering inside of her increased at his blatant disregard for the rules of polite society, but Laurel tried to squelch it.
Lifting her chin, she awaited his arrival.
Finally, he was standing before her, offering her his hand without greeting or introduction.
Instantly, Laurel was intrigued. Here she'd been expecting an introduction or a charming flirtatious remark, yet he'd given her neither. As she watched him, his mouth turned further upward, creating a small, seductive smile upon his handsome face.
His audacity tempted Laurel, making her wish she could accept his dare and place her hand in his outstretched one. Time seemed frozen as she waited for him to speak, to move, to drop his hand to his side. Instead, he remained silent, seemingly unaware of the attention his behavior was drawing.
Glancing about the room, Laurel saw how people looked at them laughing at her apparent refusal to accept his hand. Chagrined, she returned her attention to the confident man standing before her.
Slowly, she placed her hand into his, accepting the bold invitation.
His smile spread into a broad grin as he twirled her into his arms and out onto the dance floor. The room spun about for Laurel as she clung to his shoulder, caught up in the moment. Though the urge to speak tempted her, Laurel remained silent, unwilling to disrupt the magic that flowed between them.
As she whirled about the room in the arms of a stranger, Laurel had never felt so unrestrained, so … wild. The challenge in his smiling gaze made her ache to throw caution to the wind, to shake free from the fetters of her past and allow this man, this wild, impetuous man, to shape her future.
Much to her disappointment the music died all too soon; she could have lived within that one magical moment forever. Escorting her back to Harriet, the man bowed to her, pressing a kiss to the back of her gloved hand.
As he straightened, Laurel couldn't resist saying, "I don't believe we've been introduced."
Smiling down at her, the gentleman held his tongue.
Dismayed, Laurel tried again. "Might I learn your name?"
"Perhaps in good time," he murmured, his voice low and melodious, before he turned on his heel and walked back across the room, fading into the crowd of people gathered there.
For a moment, Laurel could do no more than stare after him, too shocked to respond.
Turning toward Harriet, Laurel asked, "Do you know who that gentleman is?"
Shock widened Harriet's eyes. "You danced with a gentleman without even knowing his name?"
"Quite scandalous of me, wasn't it?" Laurel replied with a grin, still feeling the sweep of excitement, "Please answer my question. Do you know him?"
"Yes, I recognize him," Harriet acknowledged. "I was introduced to him earlier in the season."
"Please, Harriet." Laurel needed to know his name.
"Your charming new suitor is none other than the Earl of Tewksbury, Royce Van Cleef."
Lord Van Cleef. While she didn't know him, she certainly knew of him. His reputation as a bold rake was well established amidst society … a reputation that closely mirrored her ex-fiancé's. Archie had been known as a charismatic rake who all the ladies wanted to catch for their own. Lucky for her, she had the one thing the other ladies didn't—the largest dowry, Laurel thought darkly.
Making herself forget the tiny spark of excitement Royce had ignited, Laurel vowed she would be prepared if he ever tried to approach her again. No, she'd learned her lesson far too well to be taken in by a charming gentleman … regardless of how much he intrigued her.
Once was more than enough for her.
* * *
With a self-confident swagger, Royce made his way through the crowded ballroom into the seclusion of the empty library. Lighting a cigar, Royce waited for the arrival of his friends, who had undoubtedly observed the entire scene. An instant later, the door opened and William and James tumbled into the room. Trailing behind. Steven quietly shut the door.
"Welcome, gentlemen, and congratulate me on the first successful maneuver," Royce said, lifting his cigar.
William snorted derisively. "One dance doesn't warrant congratulations."
"Ah, but it was much more than a dance." Royce paused, remembering the bright shine of interest in Laurel's gaze. "It was an engagement of her senses."
"A what?" Steven asked with a laugh.
Taking a puff of his cigar, Royce smiled at his friend. "In other words, I've aroused her interest." He paused, staring idly at the glowing tip of his cigar. "All it took was a few discreet inquiries and I discovered that our dear Lady Laurel easily dissuades her ardent suitors with a friendly, albeit firm, rebuff." He glanced at his friends. "Since I had no desire to be added to that list of failures, I decided to capture her attention before advancing with my suit."
"And you believe a dance accomplished that for you?" James shook his head. "It is not a novelty for her to dance, Royce."
"True," he acknowledged swiftly, "but before I approached her, I made certain she felt my presence. I shadowed her every move and would catch her glancing about … as if she felt my gaze upon her."
"Which would only make her seek you out," concluded Steven with a nod. "Very clever, Van Cleef."
Bowing slightly, Royce answered, "Thank you, my friend." He lifted a finger. "But, there is more, gentlemen. Tonight when I approached her, I said not a word."
"No introduction?" William gasped, obviously shocked at Royce's behavior.
"None. And, after the dance when she requested my name, I told her she might learn it in time." Royce savored that ti
dbit, remembering her expression at his response. "Tonight when I saw her glancing about the room, I knew it was time to reveal myself, so I stood at the opposite edge of the dance floor and waited until she spotted me."
"Then you walked straight through the bloody dancers," James pointed out with a chuckle. "I'll admit, Royce, that when you stood there with your hand outstretched, I thought she would snub you."
"Not Lady Laurel," Royce replied softly. Observing Laurel this past week had given him great insight into her character, and he'd been positive that she couldn't resist the lure of the forbidden. "I knew she would accept."
"Without a proper introduction?"
Smiling at William's questions, Royce paused to draw upon his cigar. "Yes. You see, gentlemen, I don't believe this lady can be seduced with charm and sweet phrases." He shook his head. "The only way to entice her toward me is to tease her interest. By not revealing my identity, I made her wonder about me."
"And she will then seek out information about you," Steven finished, his eyes widening with comprehension. Tossing back his head to laugh, he finally managed to utter, "You are a clever one, Royce."
"Thank you," Royce accepted with a salute of his cigar.
Looking disgruntled, James pointed out, "Perhaps you did capture her attention this evening, but once she asks a few questions about you and discovers your reputation, the game won't be so easy for you."
"And I shall welcome the challenge." Royce thought back on the feel of Laurel in his arms. "Indeed, I shall."
* * *
"Where are you off to this fine day?"
Laurel glanced up from her morning repast to smile at her father. "Harriet and I are attending Lady Perry's lawn party today. Would you care to join us?"
Lord Percy Simmons shook his head vehemently. "Good God, no. Lady Perry makes my head ache with her endless chatter."
"You're terrible," Laurel chided with a laugh.
"No, merely honest."
"Perhaps, but regardless of the truth of your statement, that's not the reason you refuse to attend the party. If you were completely honest, you'd admit that Lady Perry scares you." Laurel shook her head. "No one would ever guess that the Earl of Sewley is afraid of Lady Perry."
"Poppycock," scoffed Lord Simmons, pointing at Laurel with his fork. "If you so much as whisper in jest about my avoidance of Lady Perry, I vow you'll not see the light of day for a year."
Rising to her feet, Laurel walked around the table to press a kiss upon the top of her father's graying head. "I swear your secret is safe … even though I don't believe your threat for a moment."
"Disrespectful daughter," Lord Simmons said in a mock grumble.
"So true, so true." Laurel patted her father's shoulders before moving toward the door. "I'm off. Remember we promised to attend Miss Andrews' musicale this evening."
Her father groaned in response.
Laughing, Laurel paused at the door. "Come now, Father. This evening shall be enjoyable. Miss Andrews has a most agreeable voice."
"For a tortured cat, perhaps," he mumbled, scooping up a forkful of kippers.
Smiling at his grumbligs, Laurel hesitated over her next question. "Father," she began, trying to sound casual, "what do you know about the Earl of Tewksbury?"
Her father's fork stopped in midair as he jerked his head up to gaze at her. "Van Cleef? Royce Van Cleef?" He set down his fork with a clatter upon his plate. "You're asking me about a gentleman?"
Despite the fact that she was flushing, Laurel tried to act calm. "Why does that surprise you so?"
"Because you haven't shown even the slightest inkling or asked the vaguest question about any man in years. Not since that bast—" Lord Simmons broke off his reply, but his meaning was clear.
Royce Van Cleef was the first man she'd inquired about since Archie had broken their engagement. Why had she asked about him? Laurel didn't have an answer, but she didn't like the fact that she couldn't seem to get him out of her thoughts.
Shaking her head, Laurel told her father, "Don't bother answering that question. It was silly of me to even inquire about him." She smiled brightly, hoping it didn't look as forced as it felt. "I'll see you this evening."
Before her father had a chance to respond, Laurel stepped quickly from the room.
"Now isn't this an interesting development," murmured Lord Simmons as he decided to keep a closer eye upon his daughter and her interest in the Earl of Tewksbury. It was deuced difficult acting both mother and father to a headstrong girl, but since her mother had died during childbirth when Laurel had been three, Lord Simmons hadn't been given a choice. He only prayed he'd given Laurel all she needed to thrive. Her steadfast avoidance of men had alarmed him, so her interest in Lord Van Cleef was telling indeed. Perhaps his Laurel simply needed a little guidance in the matters of love.
And, after all, wasn't that the role of a father?
* * *
At the discreet knock on his study, Royce paused in his work. When his butler entered, anticipation swept through him. "Do you have any news for me?"
"Indeed, my lord." Giles answered, coming to stand in front of Royce's desk. "The Earl of Sewley's cook was most forthcoming."
"After you graced her palm with a few shillings," Royce said with a laugh.
"Quite so." Giles looked pointedly at Royce. "However, I believe you will find the information purchased well worth the cost."
Royce waited for his butler to continue.
"The lady will be attending Miss Andrews' musicale with her father this evening."
Leaning back in his chair, Royce steepled his fingers together. "Excellent. Thank you, Giles."
Giles bowed before retiring from the room.
Tapping the tips of his fingers together, Royce tried to decide how best to approach Laurel this evening. The thrill of the chase rushed through him as he imagined different ways to corner his quarry.
The boredom that had plagued him for so long was suddenly gone, swept away by the excitement of the hunt. Suddenly, Royce was fiercely glad that his friends had offered him such an intriguing challenge. Applying his theory toward catching a bride, Royce had found it easy to capture Lady Laurel's interest. Still, anticipating her next move sparked his imagination, making him feel more alive than he had in a very long time.
She'd felt soft and womanly in his arms last night and he found it all too easy to picture her in his bed.
Yes. This time, winning would be very sweet indeed.
* * *
It was all she could do to keep from squirming in her seat.
Laurel refused to glance behind her … despite the fact that she felt Lord Royce Van Cleef's eyes boring into her. The sweetness of Miss Andrews' voice did nothing to lessen her agitation, yet Laurel vowed not to let on that the Earl's attentions affected her in the least.
Instead, she focused all of her attention upon Miss Andrews as she trilled out the final note of the aria. Clapping loudly, Laurel glanced at her father, only to find him looking behind her. "Father, you should applaud now," she pointed out quietly.
"Hmmm?" Lord Simmons blinked, suddenly realizing what was happening around him. "Oh, yes," he murmured, clapping in appreciation.
"Whatever is on your mind tonight?" Laurel prayed he hadn't been looking at Lord Van Cleef.
Her prayers went unanswered.
"I couldn't help but notice that the Earl of Tewksbury has not taken his eyes from you all evening." As the singing began again, he leaned closer to Laurel. "It struck me as particularly interesting since he was the very same gentleman you inquired about this morning."
Fanning herself quickly, Laurel wished she could control the telling color that flooded her face. "The only reason I asked after him was because of his behavior last night." She took a calming breath. "I ask you, Father, what manner of man sweeps a lady into a dance without so much as a word of introduction."
"One who wishes to capture a lady's interest," Lord Simmons replied with a grin. "It would appear he was quite su
ccessful."
"That issue is neither here nor there," she insisted firmly. "Lord Van Cleef's unwanted attention this evening is drawing far too much notice from everyone here."
"By tomorrow, a rumor that he is enamored of you will be on everyone's lips," her father predicted with a nod.
Narrowing her eyes, Laurel rasped, "There's no need to be so delighted about it."
"I beg to differ." Lord Simmon's smile dimmed. "It's been far too long since I've seen you take event the faintest interest in a gentleman. This does my old heart good."
Laurel shook her head. "Most fathers would be appalled at the Earl's blatant attentions, yet you seem ready to ask him into the library for a cigar and brandy."
"Not a bad idea."
Unable to hold in her smile, Laurel laughed softly. "You really should try not to be so overprotective, Father. It's quite trying."
"You, my darling Laurel," he began, flicking a finger against the tip of her nose, "have set up enough walls around yourself that it worries me far more that no gentlemen will persevere with you." He glanced back at Royce. "In fact, Tewksbury's tenacity is most admirable."
"Oh, Father, you really—"
"Shhhh."
The long hiss came from the matron sitting behind them. Flushing at the reminder of her surroundings, Laurel sank into silence, returning her attention back to Miss Andrews.
Regardless of her father's opinion, Laurel knew she needed to put an end to the Earl's behavior. As soon as Miss Andrews ended her performance, she would seek out Lord Van Cleef and dissuade him from ever bothering her again.
* * *
Rising the moment Miss Andrews finished singing, Royce moved toward the hallway. He glanced back once to make certain Laurel had taken his bait. Excitement flooded him when he saw her rising to her tiptoes, her face turned toward his empty chair.
Her expression of vexation only increased his enjoyment. Confidently he watched Laurel glance around the room and waited until her gaze fell upon him. Lifting her hand, she silently beckoned him to remain still as she began to work her way out of the room.
A MERRY CHASE Page 2