Page 2 of A Sporting Chance (The Chances #8)

“Who do you think he is?” Kathleen asked wistfully.

“Who? Which one?”

Which one, indeed. As though there were not clearly one of the gentlemen before them who was leagues beyond the others in both looks and talent.

“The tall one.”

“The one in the green?”

“No!” Kathleen almost chuckled. Even after all these years, her sister did not understand her taste in gentlemen at all. “Not the green, you know I have no interest in blonds. No, the darker-haired man, the one wearing that russet-red waistcoat.”

Her attention followed him as he meandered back to the group while another of his number took up his own bow and stepped forward to throw back another arrow.

Whoever he was, he was clearly a valued member of the group. Why, there was laughter around him wherever he spoke. Perhaps he was a great wit. Perhaps he had done something of great amusement at an earlier time, and they were reminiscing about it.

Kathleen leaned against the tree and watched him. The easy manner of his frame… He stood there tall and confident, as though naught could assuage him.

“He looks like a very nice man.” Angela’s curt, low voice interrupted her thoughts.

“‘Nice’?” Kathleen repeated in horror.

Nice . What a disgraceful description for a man who was almost Herculean in his archery prowess. Nice?

“Well, what else can we know of him?” her sister pointed out. “All we can see is that he wears red and likes archery.”

“He does not like archery, he excels at archery,” murmured Kathleen, her eyes unable to stop watching his movements. There he was, taking up his bow again. “He has won several competitions and has been feted for his talent.”

“He has?”

All too late, Kathleen remembered her sister did not have quite her imagination.

“I mean, he might have done,” she said with a smile, dragging her gaze momentarily away from the man to smile at her sister. “You never know.”

Her sister’s face, on the other hand, was far too knowing, her lips pursed and her brow furrowed. “You get yourself too tangled in dreams, Kathleen.”

“We have little else,” Kathleen said before she could stop herself.

She had spoken too loudly. Freezing, then darting behind the tree, which was not quite wide enough to hide her skirts, Kathleen felt her pulse pounding as she gestured wildly at her sister. “Hide!”

Cheeks flushed, Angela stepped behind another tree.

Kathleen’s heart was relentless now, her lungs tight. If we were seen…

It was bad enough that they had suffered a scandal as a family because of Angela’s rash actions. Her father had said Kathleen should stay with them at home, but she had been insistent on accompanying her older sister. She would look after her, she had said.

Had she now done nothing more than drag her sister into even more trouble? Worse, because it wasn’t at the dance at the village inn, but here in London?

Pulse hammering, Kathleen peered around the tree trunk.

“Kathleen!”

Despite her sister’s hissed admonishment, she risked a glance. She needed to see how bad it was, did she not?

It was bad. The gentlemen were peering into the woodland curiously, as though hunting for a stag. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps they thought the disturbance was the work of an animal.

Kathleen’s throat tightened. The men were holding bows and arrows! Would they shoot into the woodland, see if they could catch the mysterious creature that had made such a noise?

She darted back behind the tree. What was she supposed to do? How were they supposed to leave unseen?

“This is all your fault,” hissed Angela from the other tree. “I wanted to walk in Hyde Park, but oh, no, we had to—”

“Be quiet!” Kathleen hissed.

We will not be found here. That thought was impenetrable in her mind; the Andilet family had suffered enough.

She would not be the additional cause of more disaster.

And that meant if she had to march out there and explain she was merely lost, and goodness, could one of the gentlemen point her in the direction of the nearest park fountain?

No, that would not work. The place was private ground. She had most carefully ignored the signs last night and this morning.

Kathleen bit her lip. She would have to do something, if they were coming this way. But were they, or had the gentlemen merely returned to their arrows, thinking no more of the strange sound they had heard?

There was nothing for it.

“Kathleen!”

Once again ignoring her sister, Kathleen peered out from behind the tree…and was relieved to see the gentlemen were laughing and chattering away. One of them, her gentleman, as she now considered him, loosed an arrow that flew true through the air, hitting the target almost exactly in the center.

“They didn’t see us,” Kathleen breathed, stepping out from the tree and gazing at them. Gazing at him .

“It was close. Too close,” murmured Angela.

Perhaps it had been. Perhaps the whole idea was ridiculous, and they should depart this moment.

But Kathleen could not bring herself to go.

Not when her gentleman was still here, his tall frame clear even from this distance.

Was he as amusing as he appeared? Perhaps he was quieter, as a general rule, but enjoyed moments like this with friends.

Perhaps some of them were his brothers. Perhaps they knew each other from childhood days or had met as adults in one of the gentlemen’s clubs that appeared to be everywhere in this city.

Perhaps, perhaps. She would never know. The image of the man she had created in her own mind would be the only one she would ever know.

No gentleman wished to make the acquaintance of a Miss Andilet.

No, there would be no introduction, no matter how wistfully she leaned against this tree and looked at him. All she could hope for was the opportunity to gaze upon him. And imagine. And wonder.

“Well, I think we should be returning home!” Angela’s voice was sharp, louder than it had been before, and as she spoke, she took a step back.

And stepped on a twig. It cracked.

Kathleen froze as every single gentleman before them turned their heads—straight toward the woodland where they were standing.

“Do not move a muscle,” she hissed at her sister.

It was too late. In a panic that Kathleen should have expected and could never have halted, Angela gave a slight scream, turned, and ran. Her footsteps cracked more twigs, her blundering through the leafy branches made a dreadful noise, and her scream—

Well. It echoed around the lawned area where the gentlemen were standing.

Not standing. One of them was approaching.

“Angela—Angela, come back!” hissed Kathleen after her.

She could not help the irritation in her voice, and it only increased as her sister clearly refused to return. That, or she could no longer hear Kathleen over the ruckus she was making as she ran.

Oh, what a disaster.

Perhaps it was her own fault, for forcing Angela to come. Perhaps Kathleen should have ventured across London here on her own. It would have raised some eyebrows, a young lady walking out alone, unaccompanied and unchaperoned, but her solitude was not so shocking.

Or no more shocking than ought to be expected, if they had heard the scandal from the country…

“Angela!” Kathleen called after her sister in as low a voice as possible, but the trouble was, she could no longer see her sister at all.

Well, there was nothing for it. She would have to depart too, which was a crying shame. She still hadn’t had her fill of staring at the gentleman who—

“So,” said a voice that was melodious and yet clearly amused.

Kathleen whirled around. It was the handsome gentleman—the one who had arrived late, who had been so extraordinary with his archery by the targets.

He wasn’t standing by the targets now. He was standing right before her, mischievous grin on his face, strong arms crossed over his broad chest, mere feet from her.

Now that he was so much closer, she could see his russet waistcoat was exquisitely embroidered, his shirt of the highest quality, and there was a pin in his cravat that could have been a crest.

Kathleen swallowed, her feet unconsciously retreating. Her back hit the tree trunk and her lips parted as she stared up at him.

Goodness, but he was all the more impressive this close.

“You’re the Peeping Tom,” the gentleman said with a laugh. “How intriguing to make your acquaintance.”