Page 1 of A Sporting Chance (The Chances #8)

“—but we shouldn’t—”

“Oh, shouldn’t ,” whispered Kathleen Andilet, peering around the tree and trying not to rustle the verdant leaves. “I know we shouldn’t. You don’t need to tell me a third time.”

Her heart was racing and her eyes were wide, the vision before her something that had been hidden from her all her whole life.

Her sister twisted her fingers together, the movement of her white gloves catching the summer sunshine in the corner of Kathleen’s vision. “But if we are seen—”

“Then don’t be seen,” murmured Kathleen, not looking around. “I didn’t ask you to come.”

Of course she hadn’t. She had known Angela would have little interest in breaking the rules of Society like this and had therefore instructed her sister to remain home.

Well. Home . The rooms they had taken. Not quite the same thing.

But apparently, Kathleen could not be trusted on her own. Preposterous. She could most certainly be trusted.

Trusted to do whatever she wanted.

Gentle applause rose up in the scene before her and Kathleen’s stomach lurched as she watched the gentlemen clap one of their number on the back enthusiastically.

“Can we go now?” hissed Angela, the glimmer of irritation in her blue eyes far too familiar.

Kathleen swallowed. “No.”

She did not want to go. Despite the fact that it was absolutely outrageous that they had crept into the grounds of the place without anyone noticing, and that it was scandalous that they were staring at a group of gentlemen, almost all of them with their jackets off, their long, linen sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms of corded muscles and wiry hair, she did not want to look away.

It was…different. A different part of Society, and Kathleen had had quite enough of the dour, dutiful, appropriate Society to which they had been restricted their entire lives.

If Angela’s scandal ever made it into the newspapers, they would be restricted even more.

“I don’t even see why this is of any interest to you,” hissed Angela, stepping toward her and whispering low. “It’s only archery. How can you watch it over and over again?”

“Hush,” Kathleen said fiercely. “They’ll hear you.”

But the gentlemen were too far away, thank goodness, to hear the two sisters bickering in whispers. Besides, Kathleen could not help but think, they had something far more interesting to occupy them.

The men were not restricted by Society’s ridiculous expectations of dress. They could shed their obstructive coats, roll up their sleeves, and do whatever they wanted. It was women who were entrapped in long skirts and petticoats and corsets.

And that was before one started on the topic of pockets…

“But archery?” muttered her sister, evidently unwilling to give up the topic of conversation. “I do not understand you, Kathleen. It’s just bows and arrows. A child’s game.”

Kathleen swallowed.

She had never seen anything less like a child’s game in all her life.

It had been an accident, coming upon them.

Yesterday evening, the glow of the sun had disappeared far swifter than she had predicted, and Kathleen had known it was unseemly for a woman on her own to be traversing across London.

As she had hurried, she’d realized a shortcut could be gained by walking through what had appeared to be nothing more than a park, so she had ventured across as swiftly as she could.

And in the glowing embers of the daylight, she had seen them. Men. Men—and arrows whipping through the air faster than she thought possible. Focus, and accuracy, and power, an intoxicating mixture that had floated through the air and bewildered her.

When she had finally managed to slam the door of their rooms behind her, Kathleen had known precisely where she was going the following day.

“We shouldn’t be here,” murmured her sister.

Kathleen turned, dragging her eyes away from the men to look at Angela. There was a haunted look in her eyes, a look of panic and uncertainty.

Something painful twisted in Kathleen’s stomach. Her sister was right, though she was loath to admit it. She would have been right regardless, for any pair of young ladies found in an unacceptable position, but given the situation they found themselves in…

“We’ll go in a moment,” Kathleen said quietly, regret filling her. “Just… I just want to wait a few more minutes.”

Until he arrives.

The thought was not one she had consciously. It was therefore not one she could take captive, force down, and pretend had never occurred.

Because impressive though all the men were who were striding about were, pulling back bows with flexing arms and sending quivering arrows straight and true toward the targets many yards away, he was not there.

Kathleen swallowed. Not that she should be gawping over any gentlemen at all…but that one…

Her sister flinched and drew farther back into the small woodland within which they were hiding as a new figure stepped out of the building to their left to join his fellows.

And Kathleen’s stomach lurched.

There he was.

She could not tell, precisely, why her attention had been drawn to him the previous evening. He was tall, yes, but not extravagantly so. She had been unable to hear his words so was unsure whether he was more articulate, more charming, perhaps, than the others.

Fine. She could be honest here, in the sanctity of her own mind.

He is the most handsome, the most delicious man I have ever—

“I don’t know why you wanted to drag me here in the first place,” hissed Angela, her words rapid and uncensored. “It was a foolish idea coming here. Ladies are not supposed to, and even if we were men, which we are not, we would have to be members and the membership here…”

Kathleen ignored her sister. It was not so difficult, with her pulse thumping so powerfully that it was all her ears could hear.

The gentleman had met with his friends now and he said something, something she could not catch from this distance. She could, however, catch the laughter and jollity that met his words.

A small smile crept across her lips. He was well-liked, then. He was amusing.

Kathleen swallowed as the gentleman removed his jacket and started to roll up his sleeves, revealing arms so flush with muscles, they appeared to be nothing but.

Her stomach lurched, that darned pulse of hers still roaring, as her sister continued speaking words she could not hear and the gentleman picked up a bow and two arrows. And then he—

Air was forced from her lungs in a gasp.

It had been…almost fluid. As though he had not even had to think, but had just moved as another would walk.

The gentleman had lifted up the bow, fitted the arrow, pulled it back with an ease she had not witnessed in the other gentlemen, and let the arrow fly.

It thunked—right in the middle of the target.

Applause echoed around the lawn and Kathleen had to prevent herself from joining in. It was truly impressive, far more striking than any of the others’ efforts, and she had been watching for a good while.

There was a tug on her sleeve. “ Now can we go?”

Kathleen managed to drag her eyes away from the gentleman, whoever he was, and glared at her sister. “Is it not enough that you had your fun—are you to deprive me of all enjoyment merely because you were caught?”

It was badly said, and she regretted it the moment the words had left her lips. Angela’s cheeks went pale and there was a pain in her eyes Kathleen had seen before but had never been the cause of.

She bit her lip. “I am sorry. Forgive me, I should not have spoken so.”

“But you were thinking it. Even if you had not said it, you were thinking it,” her sister said, swallowing hard and twisting her hands together again. “I knew you were.”

Kathleen was much tempted to curse, but that would hardly help the situation. “Angela—”

“You should never have come with me to London,” her sister muttered, expression downcast. “After the scandal. You should have stayed at home, untainted by my name, by my actions.”

“I chose to come with you and I stand by that,” Kathleen said fiercely, highly conscious that if they were not careful, their voices would carry over to the archers. “But…Angela, I cannot live a life entirely in the shadows. We have lost our good name, yes—”

“ I have,” interrupted Angela darkly.

“—but we are outside Society. We are not dead,” continued Kathleen, trying to keep her voice level and low. “And yes, we are breaking the rules—”

“We will never be permitted back into Society’s good graces if we are caught here,” whispered Angela with wide eyes.

Kathleen bit down on her instinctive response: that after what had happened between her sister and a gentleman whom her parents had never identified to Kathleen, Society was unlikely to ever permit them back into its good graces at all. That ship, as it were, had sailed.

Not that much would be gained from pointing that out.

“Society makes rules to prevent people from having fun,” Kathleen murmured instead. “The only Society we had at home was Mr. Keystone, and he was the dullest neighbor it was possible to be. As we are no longer a part of Society, I suggest we find fun elsewhere.”

She turned back to the archers and her heart skipped a beat as her gaze beheld the one who had most recently joined them.

“And what fun can be gained by staring at gentlemen from a distance?” Angela’s whispered question was one that made Kathleen smile.

“Oh, I can admire,” she breathed, watching the way the gentleman pulled back that strong arm and let another arrow fly. “There is no harm in admiring.”

And he was most striking. Kathleen had never seen anyone move so sinuously, with such grace, with such confidence in his limbs. Why, he occupied the world as a man who was absolutely confident that not only did he have the right to be there, but with the knowledge that he would be welcomed.

What was it like, to feel such certainty?

He would be a lord or the son of a lord of some kind, she was sure—far above their station even before Angela’s disgrace.