A MERRY CHASE

by VICTORIA MALVEY

  With a start, Laurel stood and faced Royce's mother. "Of course, my lady."

  "I want you to stay away from my son," Lady Van Cleef snapped, looking at Laurel as if she were a nasty bug that had snuck into her tea. "I saw you out in the dining hall with my son, kissing him, no less." Lifting her chin, she looked down her nose at Laurel. "I always knew you were unfit."

  Caught off guard, Laurel floundered for a response. "I fear you've mistaken me for someone who—"

  "I have not," pronounced Lady Van Cleef, straightening her shoulders. "For some inexplicable reason, my son has decided upon you, despite my instructions to the contrary. At every turn, you've provided me with ample proof that you would bring disgrace to the Tewksbury title."

  "I beg to differ," Laurel murmured, refusing to argue the point. "However, it is of little consequence as I have no intention of ever becoming the Countess of Tewksbury."

  "My son believes differently."

  "True, and while I have no control over his actions, I do have control over mine," Laurel pointed out. "And if I do not wish to marry your son, then you have nothing to fear."

  Stepping forward, Lady Van Cleef glared down at Laurel. "How do I know I can trust you?"

  Laurel stood firm beneath the harsh stare. "I suppose you don't," she admitted.

  Anger shifted into Lady Van Cleef's expression. "Do you truly believe for one moment that I will trust you? I've worked far too long to bring honor to this family to let it all hang on the possibility that you might honor your word." She patted her chest. "I taught my child day after day to respect his obligation, to fulfill his duty, and what does he do?" A sneer curled her lips upward. "He settles upon someone like you."

  Shaking her head, Laurel couldn't help but feel sorry for Royce's mother, a woman so obviously trapped within her own confines of propriety. "I'm sorry that I can't do more to ease your mind," Laurel said softly.

  Lady Van Cleef's head snapped back, making Laurel wonder if Royce's mother had been expecting anger instead of empathy. "Just stay away from my son," Lady Van Cleef muttered, turning toward the mirror, effectively dismissing Laurel.

  Pausing by the door, Laurel glanced back at Lady Van Cleef. Poor Royce, she thought as she closed the door behind her, what life must have been like with a mother like that.

  * * *

  Flushed from her distasteful confrontation, Elizabeth Van Cleef patted her cheeks, angry that she'd been forced into such unpleasantness.

  "Excuse me, my lady."

  Glancing to her right, Elizabeth was surprised to see the corner seat occupied. Humiliation flooded her as she realized this young girl had witnessed her unladylike confrontation.

  Immediately on the defense, Elizabeth glared at the girl. "It is impolite to listen in on private conversations," she said, condescension dripping off every word.

  The sly smile upon the girl's face caught Elizabeth's attention. "I believe we can help each other." Rising, the girl dipped into a slight curtsey. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Margaret St. John."

  Elizabeth didn't know why, but something about the girl's manner caught her interest. Perhaps it was the malicious sparkle in her wide blue eyes. "Go on," Elizabeth commanded.

  "I am in love with your son," Margaret pronounced.

  About to dismiss the statement out of hand, Elizabeth paused. Perhaps this girl was the answer to her problems. Of course, Elizabeth would need to check into the girl's background before she could sanction a match with her son. Yet, even if Margaret St. John proved unsuitable, she would still be useful in getting rid of the Simmons girl.

  Elizabeth waved the girl into a seat. Joining her, she encouraged, "Now tell me how you came to love my son." Naturally, she cared not a whit for Margaret's response. No, she was merely seeking a way to rid herself of that pesky Simmons chit.

  * * *

  Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Glancing behind him, Royce was startled to find Laurel. Immediately, he turned toward her.

  "Might I have a moment of your time?" she whispered, glancing around him at the two gentlemen with whom he'd been conversing.

  "Certainly," Royce replied immediately, unwilling to let this opportunity pass him by. Murmuring his excuses to his friends, Royce cupped Laurel's elbow and steered her down a hallway.

  Looking into room after room, Royce searched for an empty one and, finding one, escorted Laurel into Lady Ellsworth's parlor.

  "Oh, my," Laurel murmured as she looked around the room.

  Taking in the pink and lavender decor, Royce could easily understand her reaction: "No wonder this room was empty."

  "Indeed," she returned with a chuckle.

  Leaning back against the door, Royce gazed at Laurel. "Why did you wish to speak with me?"

  "Because I needed to tell you of my conversation with your mother."

  "My mother?" he asked warily.

  Nodding, Laurel hastened to explain. "She came into the ladies' retiring room and asked … well, told me to not see you again."

  Anger choked him. "She did?"

  Again, Laurel nodded. "I only wanted to tell you because I thought it far better that you hear about my conversation with her from me."

  "Trust me, my mother wouldn't have uttered a word," Royce replied. Drawing in a deep breath, he looked at Laurel. "I can only apologize for her actions and assure you that it won't happen again in the future."

  Her soft smile caught him off guard. "Can you really promise that, Royce? Surely you can't possibly hope to control anyone else's actions?" Shaking her head, Laurel continued, "You can only alter how you react to an unpleasant confrontation. I simply wanted to tell you that I understand how upsetting she can be."

  The generosity of her spirit overwhelmed Royce. Her sympathetic response humbled him. Still, if he could enhance her reaction, then perhaps—

  He broke off his thoughts as the disgracefulness of his behavior hit him. Dear God! Here Laurel had been offering him comfort and instead of thanking her, he stood wondering how he could use this to his advantage.

  He grew appalled at his coarse behavior. Straightening away from the door, Royce vowed to abandon any future ploys or strategies to win Laurel. If he was going to claim her for his bride, then he would do it through honesty, trust, and … love.

  Swallowing instinctively, Royce nonetheless recognized how well the word fit. He stepped forward, reaching out to stroke Laurel's arm. "Thank you for being so understanding."

  She ducked her head, shifting away from his touch. "You're welcome," she returned. "I'm only sorry your mother is feeling so … threatened by something she has no need to worry about."

  "Hasn't she?" he murmured.

  Her head jerked upward, her gaze catching his. "No," Laurel finally said, her voice shaking. "No, she doesn't."

  "Laurel," he began, "do you remember the question I asked you in Tattersalls?"

  "If we could begin again?"

  Slowly, he nodded. "Have you given it any more thought?"

  "N-n-n-o," she stammered.

  "Would you reconsider my offer?"

  "I … I … no, Royce. I'm sorry, but I can't." She shook her head. "I just can't."

  He remained silent for a long moment. "I'll ask again," he finally said.

  "I can't say if my answer will change."

  Shrugging lightly, Royce smiled at her. "That won't make any difference in how often I ask."

  "Fair enough," Laurel replied.

  "I think so."

  Looking ill-at-ease, Laurel gestured toward the door. "I'd better return to the ballroom before anyone notices I'm missing," she said, giving him one last shaky smile before she left.

  Her refusal to give him another chance didn't matter, because for the first time, Royce felt as if he'd stumbled upon the way to truly win Laurel's heart.

  With love.

  Toss in a little trust, time, and honesty and she would soon be his.

  * * *

  As she hurried down the corridor, Laurel pressed her gloved hands
against her flaming cheeks. She'd needed to get away from Royce, away from the temptation to give in to his charm. Glimpsing into his childhood had explained so much to Laurel, making her realize that all of his wildness had simply been in reaction to his environment.

  Who wouldn't have rebelled against such strictness?

  Still, understanding didn't necessarily lead to forgiveness. She wouldn't easily forget that she was simply a pawn in his game, nor would she allow herself to trust him with her emotions. Not yet anyway.

  Taking a deep breath, Laurel stepped into the crowded ballroom, hoping no one had noticed her brief absence. She'd already caused enough gossip lately; the last thing she wanted to do was cause more by hieing off with Royce every chance she got.

  Glancing back down the hallway, Laurel thought of Royce … and wondered if she should have accepted his offer, after all.

  No, her choice was the far safer course.

  But was it the best one?

  * * *

  Chapter 18

  « ^ »

  Dismissing her maid, Laurel studied her reflection in the mirror, wondering if she'd made the right decision last night. Earlier today, Royce had sent her an invitation to the Opera and from the moment she'd held the card in her hand, Laurel had felt a tingle of excitement—certainly not the reaction of one friend for another.

  But could she begin again? Could she truly forget all that had gone between them and learn to trust him once more?

  She didn't know; but one thing was clear, she wanted to give him another chance. Allowing her fear of being hurt to keep her from happiness seemed a cowardly way to live. Perhaps she was making a mistake in starting anew, but, in her heart, she knew she couldn't make any other choice.

  Squaring her shoulders, Laurel made her way downstairs. As she passed the second landing, her father stepped into the foyer and stopped when he saw her. "You look lovely, darling."

  "Thank you, Father," Laurel said, pressing a kiss onto his cheek.

  "Just like your mother." Lord Simmons cleared his throat. "Would you care to join me for a glass of sherry before Royce arrives to escort you to the Opera?"

  "Certainly," Laurel accepted, linking her arm through her father's and walking with him into the study.

  "I admit that it pleases me to see you spending time with Van Cleef." Handing her a glass, he assisted her into a chair before taking a seat himself. "He strikes me as a fine gentleman."

  Sipping at the sherry, Laurel looked at her father. "I would have thought his reputation might bother you."

  "Not at all." Lord Simmons shook his head. "Personally, I believe a gentleman is far better suited to settle down into the role of husband if he's sown his wild oats." Pressing a hand against his chest, he leaned forward to admit, "In my youth, I was a bit of a rake, but once I met your mother, I changed my ways and became the boring old curmudgeon you know and love."

  "You're very seldom boring," she replied with a laugh, warmed by her father's sentiments, growing more certain she had made the right choice. Tonight at the Opera, she would tell Royce that she accepted his proposal to begin their relationship anew.

  Her father scowled at her with mock ferocity. "What do you mean by very seldom?"

  Widening her eyes, Laurel gave her father a look of bewilderment. "Did I say that?"

  Lord Simmons laughed aloud, the sound bringing a smile to Laurel's lips as well.

  "Come now, Lord Simmons. How am I ever supposed to entertain your daughter half as well as you do?" Royce asked as lie strolled into the study unannounced.

  "Laurel was simply laughing at my shortcomings. I'm quite confident, sir, that you can easily entertain my daughter." Lord Simmons stood and offered Royce a sherry.

  "No, thank you, my lord," Royce declined. "I believe we should be off if we wish to catch the opening aria." Turning to face Laurel, he held out his hand. "Shall we, my lady?"

  Her cheeks warmed as she placed her hand within his.

  Stepping forward, her father pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Enjoy yourself, darling."

  "Thank you," Laurel replied, hugging her father.

  Royce led her into the foyer where he retrieved her wrap and placed it around her shoulders. His solicitous behavior made her feel cherished. She was certain now that she was right to let go of her lingering fear and to give this man a second chance.

  An odd tension filled the air as both Royce and Laurel sat quietly within the confines of the carriage. After they'd gone quite a distance, Royce finally observed, "You have been terribly quiet this evening. Is something amiss?"

  "No," she returned, meeting his gaze and praying she wasn't blushing.

  Tugging on his cravat, Royce took a breath before saying, "I want to tell you something before we arrive at the Opera."

  Eagerly, Laurel leaned forward. "Yes?"

  "If you wish to remain solely friends, that is fine with me." Reaching out, Royce placed his hand upon hers. "I enjoy your company far too much to give it up."

  His consideration touched her as nothing else could have, erasing any lingering doubts. "Royce," she said softly. "I had something I wished to tell you as well."

  He remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

  Feeling oddly shy, Laurel struggled for a way to begin. "Last night you—"

  Before she could finish, the carriage rocked to a stop. As the footman opened the door, Royce stepped down and, reaching back, offered Laurel his hand. On the sidewalk, he tucked her hand into his arm and asked, "You were saying?"

  Glancing at the people milling about, Laurel shook her head. "I'll tell you after the performance."

  He squeezed her fingers. "Very well then," he said as he escorted her into the Opera hall.

  * * *

  Feeling light-of-heart, Laurel tucked her hand into Royce's elbow as they made their way through the lobby. Just as they were about to head up the main staircase, Steven stepped in front of them.

  "Van Cleef," he said in greeting, before turning to her. "Laurel."

  The single word was tinged with disappointment and sadness. "Steven," she returned lightly. "How delightful to see you."

  He held her steady within his gaze. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

  With Royce. The implied words were unspoken, but Laurel was quite certain that they echoed in all of their thoughts.

  Clearing his throat, Royce shifted until he was slightly in front of her. "Lady Laurel graciously accepted my invitation just this morning," Royce said smoothly. "I consider myself most fortunate."

  Steven's mouth tightened. "Indeed you are, Royce," he replied stiffly. Bowing slightly, he murmured, "Enjoy the performance."

  Laurel wanted to call him back as he moved away, to do something to ease his pain, but knew in her heart that nothing she said could accomplish that. Guilt bore down upon her.

  Lifting her chin with one finger, Royce gazed into her eyes. "Didn't you tell me just last night that you can't control another person's actions, only your reaction?"

  Indeed she had. Like Steven, she'd been hurt when her love had been rejected, but she'd not only survived, she'd come to realize she'd been mistaken all along. Her feelings for Archie were mere shadows of those she felt for Royce. Hopefully, Steven would soon find the woman of his heart, a woman who would heal his ache.

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  "Always my pleasure," Royce returned before escorting her up the stairs.

  * * *

  As soon as they reached his family's box, Royce pulled back the curtain, allowing Laurel to enter before him. Following her, he bumped into her back as she came to an abrupt halt.

  "I didn't realize you would be attending this evening, Royce."

  Stiffening, Royce looked at his mother, who sat rigidly upon her chair like a queen holding court. Holding back a sigh, he responded pleasantly, "Nor I you, Mother," he continued smoothly, "I'd like to introduce you to—"

  "We've met," Elizabeth interrupted with a chill in her voice.

  "So
I heard."

  Arching a brow at him, his mother asked, "Surely you don't expect me to share our family's box, do you?"

  "Lady Laurel is my guest," Royce said firmly.

  "Perhaps," his mother said, rising to her feet. "But she is not mine."

  Royce watched his mother march out, humiliated by her actions. Glancing at Laurel, he tried to gauge her reaction, expecting abject embarrassment. Instead, she greeted his hesitant look with twitching lips and sparkling eyes.

  "If I were the sensitive type, I might believe your mother doesn't care much for me."

  Relief flooded him as he reached out, lifting her hand to press a kiss upon the back of it. "You, my dear Laurel, demonstrate the traits of a true lady."

  "Oh, I don't know about that," she protested with a laugh. "I'm far too outspoken to ever be mistaken for a paragon of ladylike virtue."

  Looking at her, Royce wondered if she honestly didn't know how appealing she was to him. "In all the ways that truly matter, you are a sterling example."

  Her eyes glowed with pleasure as he assisted her into the chair his mother had recently vacated. Some of his contentment faded as he took in the glances being shot their way from people in nearby boxes, partially hidden behind hands or fans. Obviously, they'd observed his mother's direct snub of Laurel. Three boxes down, his mother sat, her mouth moving at a rapid pace, spouting nothing but complaints, Royce was quite certain.

  Bloody hell, he thought, glancing at Laurel. He'd wanted to begin a courtship in earnest, not to cause her to become fodder for gossips.

  "Everyone appears most interested in us, my lord," Laurel murmured calmly. "I've always found it fascinating that such a small thing as a snub could cause such a stir."

  Stunned, Royce turned toward her. Only Laurel would react in such a manner; turning the displeasure of others into a source of amusement for herself.

  Smiling at him, she said, "My goodness, I do hope Lady Pennson is careful. If she doesn't stop craning her neck like that, I fear she might hurt herself."

  "You are amazing," he murmured, ignoring the eyes trained upon them to lightly trail his hand down her arm. "And here I was worried that you might be upset."

  "Many things have been known to upset me, Royce, but having the ton gossip about me isn't one of them."