Page 15 of A Sporting Chance (The Chances #8)

L eopold smiled at the servant Marston as he entered the London Archery Club. “No Cooper today?”

“My uncle is taking a well-earned rest,” said the broad-shouldered footman with a smile as he bowed low. “It is my honor to serve.”

Yes, that was precisely the sort of thing Marston often said. Not that Leopold could hold it against him—the position of a servant was, after all, designed to be servile.

He had left the house that morning with a skip in his step.

There was something about the days when he had made a promise to see Kathleen.

The sun shone brighter. The birds sang louder.

Breakfast always tasted better—so much better this morning, he had gone downstairs to compliment Cook, who had promised him that there had been nothing different about the way she’d made things.

The only answer could be that it was Kathleen herself who made the day better, and Leopold was hardly going to argue with that.

Not even when his conscience reminded him that associating with such a woman, such a family…

“Yes, a scandal. My sister was involved with a…a gentleman.”

Leopold pushed the thought determinedly from his mind as he entered the club. Although the realization had come from a quarter he had not expected, he had finally discovered something he enjoyed more than archery.

Seeing Kathleen.

He was early—he liked to be early, to make sure he was ready by the rack of bows and arrows to watch her step out of the club and over toward him.

There was something very…very alluring, about the way Kathleen walked.

The sway of her hips. The curve of her breasts.

Try as he might, Leopold could not deny it: she was a very attractive woman, and absolutely not the person he had found himself daydreaming about last evening when he’d been charged with be chaperoning his sister, Maude, at a ball.

A ball Kathleen would never be invited to.

The thought dimmed his pleasure for a moment. Remember , Leopold told himself resolutely as he signed in at the front desk, she is not for you.

Not that you could even be thinking of matrimony or anything of the sort, not while your own scandal whirls about you…

“You look happy, if I may say so, my lord,” murmured the servant at the front desk of the club.

Leopold started. It was not typical for anyone to comment on his mood—but then, he had been smiling inanely.

He removed his top hat, placed it under his arm, and grinned. “I am happy.”

It was a happiness built on dreams that could never be realized, yes, but it was happiness.

Leopold was no fool. His older brother, Thomas, had married a woman who had seen straight through the Chance heir, something that all his siblings had thought was rather good for him.

Their father had accepted Victoria because she was so charming, and she came from a good family, and she had been willing to forgive Thomas all his faults—not something Leopold had ever been tempted to do.

But he knew, deep down, that his own situation was different. He was a Chance, yes, and from the senior Cothrom estate branch, but he would never be permitted to marry anyone he wished, especially not a woman entangled in a familial scandal.

Miss Kathleen Andilet was a woman he would never be allowed to have. And he would have to learn to accept it.

“Ah, Chance, I thought I heard your dulcet tones.”

In the mouth of anyone else, it would have been a compliment. As it was…

“Lord Graycott,” said Leopold, turning and trying to smile. There was such a thing as manners, after all. “How unexpected to see you here.”

“Yes,” drawled Graycott, lounging on a sofa with a few other gentlemen on surrounding armchairs, glasses in hand. “We’re enjoying a tipple after a reasonably impressive competition. A competition that I won, of course.”

Leopold’s smile did not waver. He would not let it. “Of course.”

No matter that he had not been invited to join. No matter that he would have won, almost certainly, if he had been included—and his very exclusion was, Leopold knew, due to the rumors about his propensity to cheat.

The injustice of it all swept through his torso like lightning, leaving nothing in its wake but destruction and bright clarity.

“Oh, don’t worry, I can see your disappointment,” said Graycott with a laugh that was echoed by his companions.

“If you wish for a competition, we have a small betting pool going on. It is a touch unorthodox to let you in, as you are so close to the situation, but I am sure we can make allowances for you. Everyone else seems to.”

More laughter, more smirks, and all at his expense. Leopold tried not to permit his smile to falter. “Oh? I was not aware there was another archery competition scheduled.”

“There is one in a few weeks, but that is not what we are discussing.” Lord Graycott rose and smirked before continuing. “No, it’s about that protégé of yours. Your Miss Andilet.”

Every muscle in Leopold’s body stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”

“Yes, we’re wondering how long it will be before she throws herself on you and demands matrimony.

I hear tell she has good reason to. All that time spent in a gentleman’s club and without a chaperone.

” Graycott sneered. “It’s surely all an act, obviously.

What woman actually wants to learn archery? ”

“Miss Andilet is coming on leaps and bounds in her skill,” Leopold snapped, heat rising. He should have been silent. He should not have defended her. “And I think it bad manners, and badly done, to place bets on a young lady!”

“You speak as though it’s never been done before.” Graycott’s voice was as unpleasant as ever, but he appeared to be gaining some significant enjoyment from the taunting. “You speak as though you defend her honor. Do you, Chance? Have you feelings for her—is she already under your protection?”

“End the betting pool,” Leopold ground out through gritted teeth.

Oh, this was beyond the pale. How could they think of doing such a thing—and with an innocent woman’s reputation!

Well. Mostly innocent. That kiss they had shared, that had not been utterly innocent, and Leopold knew full well he should never have spent time with her unchaperoned, but that wasn’t the point!

“It’s only a joke, Chance. You should learn to smile more,” said Graycott with a wide grin. “I ask again: is she under your protection? Have you succumbed already to the minx’s tricks?”

“I have succumbed to nothing—she is naught but an acquaintance, a pupil,” lied Leopold fiercely. “She is not the sort of woman to attract me.”

The ferocity was half-aimed at the idiotic Graycott, half-aimed at himself. This was most unpleasant; the betting pool itself was an outrage, but the fact that he was therefore forced to defend her, defend himself, lie about how he felt for her…

Because it was a lie. It was only in this moment that he realized it, but it was a startling revelation, and it was simple.

He had feelings for Kathleen Andilet.

Precisely what they were, Leopold did not know. He had never felt this way about a woman before, never encountered this painful, aching need to be with her. It was confusing. It was maddening.

It was dashed inconvenient.

“It’s just a bet,” muttered one of Lord Graycott’s friends behind him. “I don’t understand why he’s getting so upset about it all.”

Just a bet.

“Excellent! So if I can shoot an arrow to hit one of those things from fifty yards within a month, you’ve won. If not, then I have won.”

Just a bet. Leopold could not help but think of the bet he and Kathleen had entered into, a bet that had been ill-advised at the time yet was scorchingly attractive now that he knew her.

Little had he known then precisely where such a bet could lead.

“I said to drop it,” Leopold said sharply.

There was absolutely going to be a moment when there was not pain in his lungs and sharpness prickling in his heart, but this was not it. He glared, maintaining eye contact with Lord Graycott until he absolutely could not bear it, and even then he continued.

He would not, could not permit Kathleen to be the butt of their jokes. She was not just some harlot who was entertaining his time to trick him into matrimony. She was—she could be—

“Oh, you are not fun at all, Chance.” Graycott sighed, throwing himself back down onto the sofa and rolling his eyes. “Fine. The betting pool shall be put aside, though Lord knows how we will manage to entertain ourselves without it.”

“I do not care,” Leopold said roughly. “Miss Andilet does not exist for your entertainment.”

“No,” agreed Graycott with a pointed arch of his brow. “She exists for yours, doesn’t she?”

It was fortuitous, perhaps, that at that precise moment when Leopold lunged toward the man with his fist upheld, there was a ruckus to his right that drew all his attention.

“Unhand me!”

He knew that voice. “Kathleen—Miss Andilet?”

Desperately attempting to ignore the snorts and knowing looks surrounding him, Leopold let go of Lord Graycott’s lapels—precisely how he had come to grab them, he was not sure—and marched over to the door, where Marston was arguing with the lady in question.

“I tell you, I have been permitted entrance by both Mr. Cooper and Lord Leopold, Lord Leopold Chance,” Kathleen was saying to the irate footman. “Ah, there you are. Please tell this man I am allowed here.”

“Release Miss Andilet,” Leopold said sharply, drawing on all his reserves, all the occasions he had heard his father speak in such a refined and yet dismissive matter.

It worked. The footman let go of Kathleen’s sleeve and glared up at the lord.

“She cannot come in,” he said gruffly.

“I will say again,” said Kathleen tartly, “I have come in before and I will do so again, and no one will stop me. Is that not right, Lord Leopold?”

And Leopold hesitated.

It was not that he did not wish for her to enter. It was all he could think about at the moment. His days appeared to move from one archery lesson with Kathleen Andilet to the next. All other days were mere time wasted.