A MERRY CHASE

by VICTORIA MALVEY

  "I wasn't certain if you would want to come riding with me this morning," Steven said as Laurel caught up to him.

  "After what happened last time, I must say it gave me pause, but I decided the risk was worth taking," Laurel replied, leaning forward to pat her horse on the neck.

  "I'm not certain if Royce would agree."

  Laughing softly, Laurel smiled at her friend. "Then I'm lucky that I don't need his approval."

  Steven lifted a brow at her. "Are you certain? After all, Royce believes it's a man's right to monitor his fiancée's actions."

  "Any intelligent woman would fight that dictate," Laurel assured him. "And since we're not affianced, there really is no issue.

  Pulling his horse to a stop, Steven gave Laurel his full attention. "You're not engaged?"

  "No, we are not," she said firmly. "What on earth would make you believe—" Laurel paused. "Royce."

  Steven nodded in agreement. "He referred to you as his fiancée just the other day."

  "How dare he make an announcement that is so blatantly untrue," she exclaimed, outraged at Royce's arrogance.

  Shrugging, Steven nudged his horse forward once more. "Perhaps he considers your acceptance of his proposal a foregone conclusion."

  "Then he is sorely mistaken," she replied, fuming. "That man needs to be taught a lesson."

  "And you're the one to do it?"

  "Exactly."

  For a long moment, silence reigned between them. "I hope you realize that you have other options," Steven murmured softly.

  "Options? What do you mean?" asked Laurel.

  Keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the path before them, Steven said, "Only that Royce isn't the only man who would take you for his wife." Suddenly, Steven pinned her with his gaze.

  Flustered, Laurel struggled to find a graceful way out of the conversation. "I am extremely flattered, Steven," she began carefully.

  "But you wish for us to remain friends," he finished for her.

  Wincing at the bitterness she heard in his voice, Laurel wished she could have fallen in love with this kind, gentle man. "I don't know what to say," she murmured, feeling helpless against the guilt riding through her. "I wish things could be different."

  "But you're in love with Royce."

  Laurel hastened to deny her feelings. "No, of course not."

  "The vehemence of your reply contradicts your words." The grin Steven wore couldn't hide the glimmer of pain in his eyes. "Once again, Royce wins." Steven shook his head.

  "He hasn't 'won' anything," Laurel replied swiftly.

  "I suppose being your friend is better than nothing," Steven said, his voice injected with forced lightness. "After all, if I didn't get to watch you and Royce try to outdo one another, my life would turn horribly dull."

  "And we wouldn't want that, would we, my friend?" Laurel said, relieved that their conversation had returned to safer ground.

  Steven hesitated for a moment before slanting her a grin. "No, indeed we would not … my friend."

  Regretting the awkwardness between them, Laurel kept her smile firmly in place. "Race you," she said brightly before kicking her horse into a gallop.

  * * *

  Royce headed into his study, determined to get through more of his investment papers. Things were falling into place nicely with Laurel. He'd undermine her wall of resistance toward him by burrowing in as her friend, using their closeness to convince her to marry him. And then, oh, then, he could take her in his arms and feel her soft curves pressed against him until he…

  Royce drew in a deep breath. Damn, but the woman plagued his thoughts. He couldn't wait until he was happily married and could resume his life without the distraction of courtship. Shaking his head, he strode over to his desk and took his seat.

  Glancing down, Royce noticed a note sitting atop his newly redone ledgers. Retrieving it, he began to read:

  My dear Lord Van Cleef

  I have taken the liberty of informing your intended, Lady Laurel Simmons, about your past indiscretions. I've made certain to include the ménage à trois and the wager you made while grouse hunting in Scotland about how many local maidens you could bed. I'm certain she will find it fascinating reading.

  Your devoted servant

  Dear God! Royce crumpled the paper in an odd combination of frustration and fear. Right at this very moment, Laurel could be reading about his foolish, misspend youth. Tossing aside the missive, he strode from the house, too impatient to wait for his carriage. Hell, he could walk the distance to Laurel's house in the same amount of time.

  The need to see Laurel pulsated through him, along with the fear that she would be so disgusted by his youthful indiscretions that she'd refuse to see him.

  * * *

  Busy pruning the rosebushes in the greenhouse, Laurel had her hands buried in dirt when she heard the maid call. "My lady, are you in here?"

  Wiping her hands on her apron, Laurel turned as the maid rounded the corner, holding out a letter.

  "This just arrived for you, my lady. The messenger said it was urgent."

  Thanking the maid, Laurel accepted the note and waited until the girl had left before she opened it. The first line jumped out at her.

  For your own well-being, I felt you should know what type of man you've been seeing…

  Her curiosity piqued, she quickly read the entire letter … and then read it again.

  * * *

  "Ho, Royce," William hailed as Royce approached him from the opposite direction. "I haven't seen you at White's in quite a while."

  "I've been rather busy," he returned, not pausing in his steps.

  "With courting the lovely Laurel?" called James in a decidedly laughing voice.

  "Sorry, but I can't talk now," Royce said, passing the two men. "This matter is most urgent."

  William's eyes widened as he watched Royce disappear down the street. "Good Lord, I can't ever remember seeing Van Cleef so disheveled or preoccupied."

  "Nor I," James agreed, rocking back on his heels. "But, if you notice, he's heading toward the Simmons' townhouse. So something tells me there's a woman behind his present state."

  Nodding slowly, William remained quiet for a few moments, before he glanced up at James. "Well, bully for him."

  "It's about time," James concurred.

  Grinning broadly, William said, "I don't believe I've ever seen him look better."

  "I know precisely what you mean, my friend. Van Cleef looked positively … human," James replied with a laugh. Clamping an arm around William's shoulder, he asked, "How about if we head to White's and drink a toast to our once unflappable friend?"

  "Splendid idea."

  * * *

  Laurel had begun to repot her lilies when Royce burst into the greenhouse. Seeing his distress, she guessed at its source. "Did you receive a missive as well?" she asked, dusting the dirt off her hands and turning to face him.

  "Yes," he rasped, out of breath and obviously anxious. Reaching out a hand, Royce stepped forward. "Laurel, we need to talk about what the note said."

  "Why don't you read it first?" she offered, holding it out.

  She watched Royce's face drain of all color as he read the contents. Swallowing hard, he looked up and met her gaze. The stoic light in his eyes told her he was prepared for the worst.

  "I wish I could tell you that these are all lies," he began in a low voice, "but I can't. Everything in this letter is true." A shiver vibrated through him. "However, these events happened in the past. I used to be a bit wild—"

  "Apparently so," Laurel interjected.

  Royce blanched some more, but he continued with his explanation. "…and I would accept all sorts of crazy wagers—"

  "Like the one you made about me."

  Crumpling the note, Royce glared at her. "You're not making it very easy for me to explain my actions."

  "I'm sorry," she said in mock innocence. "Is that what you wanted? For me to make this easy?"

  "Laurel," Royce ground ou
t in frustration. "Please allow me to explain."

  "Why?" she asked calmly. "You're my friend, Royce. There is no need to justify your actions, past or present, to me." She shrugged lightly. "It honestly makes no difference to me," she finished, hiding the jumble of nerves that welled inside her. She didn't want to even hint at the emotions she'd felt when she'd read all about Royce's exploits, knowing all the while that she was simply another wager in a long line of wild bets.

  She'd been smart to never express her love for him.

  Thrusting a hand through his hair, Royce almost vibrated with his frustration. "Even if we are just friends," he spat out the last word, "I would like to tell you that I no longer make a habit of accepting wagers."

  "Royce, we met because you accepted a challenge from your friends."

  "Yes, but that was a logical wager," he protested. "It was time that I marry and you—" He cut off his explanation as if he realized that he'd revealed too much.

  But Laurel had heard enough. Allowing a measure of anger to show, she finished for him. "I fit your profile for the perfect wife."

  "True," he acknowledged, "but I've already told you that you've become more to me."

  "Indeed I have." Laurel lifted her chin. "I've become your friend."

  "You know very well I didn't mean that, Laurel," Royce returned quickly. Releasing his breath in a huff, he shook his head at her. "You're not going to let me explain, are you?"

  "Actually," she drawled slowly, "there is something I'm most curious about."

  Immediately Royce straightened. "Yes?"

  "Is it truly possible to do what the letter mentioned against a fence post with two women at once?"

  Frowning deeply, he thrust the letter back at her. "I can see you're not going to be serious about this, so I believe it might be best if I leave now."

  Shrugging, Laurel carefully folded the missive. "If you wish," she replied, "but I would dearly love an explanation." She tilted her head to the side. "I wonder if such a thing could be physically possible."

  "Hell will freeze over before I ever describe it to you," Royce mumbled as he turned on his heel and walked from the greenhouse.

  The moment the door shut behind him, Laurel sank onto a nearby bench, exhausted by the confrontation. The entire time she'd been speaking to Royce, images of him frolicking with other women taunted her. Yet, at the same time, she couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to have Royce touch her intimately. But those erotic images were blotted out with one thought.

  If she were intimate with Royce, she would simply become another wager he'd won.

  * * *

  How could Laurel be so cool? The accusations in the missive were shocking, albeit true. The only way she could remain so unaffected would be if she truly felt nothing but friendship for him.

  Doubt twisted at him, making him wonder if he had only imagined the response, the desire, in her kiss. After he'd knocked Devens on the floor, she'd given him such a look of admiration, he'd been certain her feelings went far deeper than she claimed.

  But what if he'd been wrong? After all, she'd made it clear that she didn't trust him … and with good reason, he admitted reluctantly. Having her learn that she was the last in a long line of wagers hardly helped convince her that she could trust him. How could he make her believe in him again?

  Surely he was clever enough to devise a strategy that would make Laurel realize that he wanted to marry her for far better reasons than to win the wager. What he needed to do was come up with another solution, a better strategy, one that would ease her fears.

  After all, he was an intelligent fellow. Like most things in life, if you take time to plan and strategize, everything will fall into place.

  Including wary brides-to-be.

  * * *

  Chapter 17

  « ^ »

  "I believe the best way to proceed is to make a list," Laurel said briskly to Harriet. "If I approach this logically, perhaps the pattern will emerge."

  Harriet scooted forward on her chair, discarding her tea without a second glance. "Excellent idea. Now where do we begin?"

  Retrieving a piece of notepaper from her father's desk, Laurel began to write.

  1. My horse bolting in the park after I felt as if someone were watching me.

  "I thought the incident at the Hammingtons' country party was first," Harriet said, frowning slightly. "If you're going to truly understand what is happening, you will want to consider all the possibilities."

  Agreeing with her friend, Laurel scratched out the number one and replaced it with a two, before writing about the man Royce saw trying to enter her room and making that top her list.

  3. My clothes were destroyed; Royce's ledgers were destroyed as well.

  "Who could have wanted to do that?" Laurel still couldn't imagine anyone wanting to hurt her. Not even Archie or Margaret.

  "Let's finish listing everything that's happened, then we'll try to create a list of people who might be behind each one."

  Considering Harriet's suggestion an excellent one, Laurel continued.

  4. Lord Hammington receives yet another note and if Royce hadn't intervened, I would have been found in Archie's embrace.

  Or worse, she thought to herself, unable to suppress a little shiver. Archie had been so aggressive, so threatening; she'd never seen him like that before. Pushing the thoughts from her mind, she added the last item to the list.

  5. Note regarding Royce's past.

  "That's all of them," she told Harriet, turning the paper so they could both read it at the same time.

  "Do you have any idea who could have arranged to have you discovered with a strange man in your room?" Harriet asked, pointing to number one.

  "No." Shaking her head, Laurel explained. "While I would have suspected Margaret St. John, Royce told me she believed he had made the wager about her. So, if she thought Royce went to the room to find her, she wouldn't have arranged for someone else to come—"

  "Also, if she believed Royce was interested in her, she'd have no reason to try to discredit you," concluded Harriet.

  Pointing to the second notation on their list, Laurel again didn't have any idea who could have wanted to startle her horse.

  "Let's move on to number three," Harriet suggested finally.

  Laurel shook her head. "Perhaps this is a waste of time. We aren't coming up with any answers."

  "Look at this next one," Harriet insisted. "Margaret could certainly be responsible for destroying your clothes and Royce's ledgers."

  "And Archie as well." Bending forward, Laurel wrote the two names down, feeling better to have a few suspects. "We can definitely add them to the fourth item as well. After all, Archie was the one who dragged me off at the Hammingtons' ball and it is possible that Margaret arranged for the note to be sent."

  "Yes, add them both," Harried agreed with a nod. "From what you said, Royce was convinced that Margaret sent the second note to Lord Hammington."

  "He also felt that Archie had begun to work with Margaret to discredit me."

  "There's a discomforting thought."

  "Indeed," Laurel agreed softly. "I must admit that it is upsetting to realize there are people who wish to harm me."

  Reaching out, Harriet placed a hand upon Laurel's shoulder. "At least you know who they are and can now be extra careful whenever you are around them."

  "I won't put anything past either of them," she murmured, before forcing herself to let the upsetting thought go. It would do her little good to bemoan something she couldn't change. "And as for the note about Royce's past, I believe that can be laid upon Margaret's door as well," Laurel added, tapping her fingernail on the parchment.

  Leaning back in her chair, Harriet gave Laurel a steady look. "It would appear that dear Margaret has done more than her share of mischief. Now only one question remains." Harriet paused, before she asked, "What are you going to do about her?"

  "It's very simple, really," Laurel said firmly. "I'll disarm her with a pow
erful tool that very few choose to employ." Giving Harriet a pointed look, she finished, "I'll tell her the truth."

  * * *

  Royce saw Laurel enter the room in her evening finery and shadowed her movements. Having come up with a new strategy, one certain to disarm Laurel, all he had to do was wait for an opportunity to speak with her privately. As soon as she moved near a vacant alcove, he stepped forward, gently guiding her into the darkened corner with him.

  Placing his fingertips against her lips, he silenced her protest before she had an opportunity to speak. Immediately, he launched into his rehearsed explanation. "I've recently come to regret many things in my past, Laurel, but I won't apologize for any of them … nor would I change them if I could." Slowly, he removed his hand from her mouth, allowing his fingers to stroke her cheek in a gentle caress. "I know that it offends you to have been a prize in a silly game, but I can't regret making the wager because it brought me to you."

  Her eyes widened, and the look encouraged him.

  "I like to believe that I would have met you and become enamored of you without any wager, but there's no way of turning back time." He smoothed his fingertip along her arched brow. "It's true that I wish you'd never learned the truth about my wild youth, but, in a way, my impetuous nature is the very reason I met you." Leaning forward, he met her gaze steadily. "Now how could I ever regret that?"

  Brushing a soft kiss against her mouth, Royce fought the urge to deepen the touch, contenting himself instead on the astonished look upon Laurel's face. Without another word, he turned and left her standing, wide-eyed, in the alcove.

  * * *

  It took Laurel a full minute to regain hold of her composure. Dear Lord, that man knew how to send her into a spin. Time after time, he could destroy her resolve with a few carefully chosen words. Feeling flushed and light-headed, Laurel wound her way toward the ladies' retiring room.

  As soon as the door shut behind her, she sank into a nearby chair. How would she ever resist—

  "I would like a word with you."