Page 18 of A Sporting Chance (The Chances #8)

Leopold had been staring at Kathleen, something which she had also been attempting not to notice. His head whirled around. “I beg your pardon?”

Her sister gave Kathleen a look, one which read ‘if you make the same mistake as me, I will kill you,’ and rose with a swish of her skirts. “I have a letter I must finish, and my writing desk is in the other room. Do excuse me.”

Kathleen mouthed her thanks as Angela left the room—halting, naturally, to select another tasty treat for her plate. And then the door closed, and she and Leopold were alone.

Alone.

“I wanted to apologize,” Leopold said swiftly. “Again.”

It was all she could do not to smile. He did not know Angela, naturally, so he could not be certain just how much time they would have, just the two of them.

Little did he know that if Angela was anything like as agreeable as she normally was, she would not return from her bedchamber until Kathleen herself called her.

“There is nothing to apologize for. At least, not anything for which you have not apologized already,” Kathleen said awkwardly.

The way she had flung such harsh words at him mere days ago… It felt astonishingly rude now.

Besides, they were seated together on the same sofa, eating cake.

Kathleen could not explain why it felt so special, but it was a type of intimacy they had never shared before.

Kissing, yes, but was there anything more sensual, more arousing, than watching a man lick at a cake before pressing it between his lips and moaning at the sweetness of the center?

Kathleen shifted as an ache settled between her thighs. Most unaccountable.

“I think there is a great deal to apologize for,” Leopold said quietly, his words still rushed.

“I have thought about this a great deal, and I think what staggers me the most is that for all of my life before then, I have never considered the fact that my sister would never have been permitted entrance to the London Archery Club.”

Now that was not something she had expected. “It had never occurred to you?”

Leopold winced as he put down his cake on the plate and put it on the floor beside the sofa upon which they were seated. “I know it sounds monstrous, but my sister and I were raised so very differently. Not differently from others of our means, of course.”

Now it was Kathleen’s turn to wince. “I fully understand the differences, Leopold. You and I are not that different in terms of social class. My family is— was on familiar terms with a baronet, though poor Mr. Keystone will have to fill his father’s shoes now.”

“ Was ” on familiar terms. Why had she made it so obvious that her sister’s disgrace had brought them so low?

The tension that filled the air could not be dissipated by mere cake.

Leopold swallowed. “Yes, yes, I know that. Not about the baronet, to be sure, but that your family is of a similar class. I merely meant…whereas my sister was taught at home by governesses, my tutor was dismissed when I turned seven and I went to school. School, then university. By the time I returned home, my sister had grown and I was little involved in her social circles. The idea that she could not go where I went freely…it did not factor into my thinking.”

Kathleen could well believe it. There were few opportunities to feel such a frustrating injustice in the country, where the fields and the streams and the village were open to one and all.

Where chaperones were expected, if one discussed such matters, but really, no one cared if a young lady went on a walk with only her unmarried sister for company—or even entirely on her own.

No, it was only here in Town that she fully realized the limitations of her sex.

“But I understand now. At least, I am sure I cannot understand, but I understand my own ignorance,” Leopold added, a wry smile creasing his lips. “And I am sorry for it. Truly, I am sorry.”

Precisely why the son of a lord was apologizing for the vagaries of Society, Kathleen did not know. Still, it had taken a great deal for the gentleman beside her to speak in such a way, and it merited a reward. “You were not jesting, then. When you said that you had been raised to apologize.”

He gave a laugh and retrieved his plate, taking a bite of a delicious lemon and blueberry cake before replying.

“My parents are good people, proud of their station but not proud of themselves. I was raised to recognize when one makes an error, apologize for it, and improve. I am afraid that apologizing appears to be all that I am good for.”

He laughed again, another one which did not ring true, and popped the remainder of the cake in his mouth.

Kathleen did not reply immediately but watched him.

To live such a life…to be nobility and yet to know that no title, no real wealth was coming to you. To always be the second in a family, second in importance, second in attention…

It was hard enough being a second sister, but a second son, and in a family of title and prestige?

Though she knew he was privileged even so, that he would certainly agree on that point, it was difficult not to feel sorry for him. It could not have been an easy life. It almost certainly was not now.

“You are good at many things,” she said softly.

Leopold’s snort was altogether too practiced. “That is very kind of you, Kathleen, but I cannot think of anything.”

“Well, I can.”

The words had slipped from her lips before she had thought of the impropriety of the situation.

When Leopold looked at her, his lips clamped together and fighting back a smirk, it was only then that Kathleen realized just how close he was. Had he moved on the sofa—had she been only occupied with the cake?

“Like what?” he challenged softly.

Kathleen’s smile was unbidden. “Archery, for one.”

Their laughter filled the room and she glowed. This was perhaps the first time in weeks that the room had even known laughter. There was not a great deal to giggle about, when you were two ladies likely to become spinsters without the support of their family.

“Oh, well, we have discovered one thing,” Leopold said with another chuckle. “One thing I am good at, and it is not as though I can do much with it. Besides, the London Archery Club being barred for some of the people I most care about, little good it can do me.”

And all of a sudden, Kathleen needed a glass of lemonade. Or tea. Something to quench the interminable thirst that had suddenly risen up.

“The people you care about? Like… Like who?”

Leopold’s eyes fixed on hers and he did not look away as he said, “Like… Like… Like my mother. My sister, Maude. Naturally.”

“Oh, naturally,” Kathleen said hastily, looking away and taking an overly large bite of her cake so she would not be required to speak for a good few minutes.

His mother. His sister.

Why she had thought that he would say her name…

No, that was ridiculous. Embarrassingly ridiculous, sadly.

Leopold may have said that he found it difficult to stay away, but he had said nothing of affection.

He may have… He may have liked her, as a friend, as an acquaintance, and may be seeking out that friendship.

He couldn’t stay away from her because he was undoubtedly lonely.

Nothing more.

Though how many people proclaimed they would die without an acquaintance? Perhaps he had just been exaggerating to get her attention when she’d been determined to get away.

“And it will be difficult for you to return to the club.”

Kathleen swallowed her mouthful of cake so quickly, she almost choked. “It will?”

“Naturally, I will attempt to schedule our lessons when there are the least people about to make things less difficult for you,” Leopold said hastily.

But really, for your own benefit , Kathleen wanted to say.

“I am ashamed, Kathleen. Ashamed that I am part of a club that would seek to restrict our members merely because it has always been that way.”

His words flickered warmth within her. That, or it was indigestion from eating those cakes too fast.

“It is not as though I am shocked,” she assured him. “There are a great number of places where I may not go.” She almost laughed to see the look of incredulity on his face.

“There are?”

“Consider, Leopold, just how many places you go where there are no ladies. No ladies, that is,” Kathleen added, her cheeks flushing, “of good report. Places you would never take your sister.”

She could watch the dawning realization flow across his face. His handsome, eminently kissable face.

“There are a great number of things ladies cannot do,” Kathleen said quietly, putting down her plate on the sofa beside her. “A great number.”

“I suppose there are,” mused Leopold. Then he reached out and took her hand. “Let’s do one of them.”

Her eyes widened. “But—”

“Why not?” Leopold’s voice was persuasive, low, like honey dripping off a slab of bread. “We have little to lose in our reputations and I am certain we will not be recognized. Not where I am thinking of going.”

Kathleen’s mind was reeling and she could barely think as Leopold pulled her to her feet and started moving to the door. “But—Angela!”

He halted. “Is she likely to finish her letter soon?”

The truth warred with what was appropriate to say. Truth won. “She’s not writing a letter, she’s reading a book. She won’t come out until I call for— Leopold !”

Her hiss went unheeded as Leopold pulled her to the door, out onto the corridor, and then along it before racing down the stairs.

Her pulse was pounding, her lungs heaving.

What, precisely, she thought she was doing, she did not know, nor whether or not this was a disastrous idea to even contemplate .

And yet she was doing far more than contemplating it.

“Leopold, this is madness!” She wasn’t wearing her gloves. She didn’t have on a bonnet or a cap of any sort. Even Leopold had forgotten his hat at the door.