Page 20 of A Sporting Chance (The Chances #8)

“I hit it! I hit it!”

“Yes, you most certainly did,” said Leopold with a smile.

Kathleen had hit the butt. Admittedly, she had hit the edge, not actually reaching any of the rings. It was a bit of a fluke, the wind helping her edge the arrow slightly to the left. And it had fallen out almost immediately.

But still. She had hit it.

“I can’t believe it—I finally hit it!” Kathleen’s face was shining with delight, her expression full of elation. “And all this time, I never thought I’d be able to do it!”

“All this time, I believed that you were not hitting it on purpose, to win our bet,” Leopold said with a wiggling eyebrow, taking the bow from her.

She shot him a rueful look. “If only it were that—it would excuse a great deal of pathetic effort. Are you not proud of me?”

Leopold swallowed hard as he turned away, the dying sun behind him, to replace the bow into the rack.

He was proud of her. Painfully so . He had never taught anyone anything before, and despite expecting the whole thing to be a great deal of discomforting work with little reward save the pleasure of proving someone else wrong—always enjoyable—he had actually found himself warmed by the process.

Helping Kathleen, guiding her in the best way to hold her bow, showing her and then adjusting her stance…

It was gratifying.

“I am very proud of you,” he told the bow rack before turning on his heels and taking in the sight of a grinning Kathleen. “Not that you don’t have improvements to make.”

She snorted and his pulse skipped a beat. “Very diplomatic of you. Don’t you fret, I am more than aware that I have some improvements to go. Although I will say, the limitations of the bet may reduce our opportunities to practice. Not that your key plan wasn’t an excellent idea, of course.”

Kathleen gestured around them at the empty field, the club closed up, the dying embers of the sun drifting down below the horizon.

Leopold nodded. It had been a good idea.

A few guineas deposited carefully into the pockets of Cooper and Marston, and a key had been procured.

He was trusted, naturally, not to take advantage of the fact that he now had access to the London Archery Club, but as he had said to Kathleen, few people wished to practice after eight o’clock in the evening, and the sun had only just started to think about setting when they had arrived.

It was almost gone now. The long shadows cast across the lawn by their forms seemed almost magical, elongated and shimmering across the uncut grass.

“I… I suppose I should go home, then.” Kathleen’s voice was uncertain, the desire to remain so clear, it could have been written on her forehead. “Angela will be waiting for me.”

“Yes,” said Leopold quietly.

Neither of them moved. Not to depart, but neither to step toward each other.

There was something most discomforting occurring in his ribcage. His heart was not aflutter, he was no fool, but there was a stiffness, a tautness, an expectation, but he knew not of what.

All he knew was that he yearned for these lessons like a sunflower tilted toward the sun. He could not help it; Leopold’s entire week appeared to be structured around the snatched moments he could share with Miss Kathleen Andilet.

He desired her, yes, but there was something more. Something beyond what he had felt before. Only now did Leopold realize that what he wished to do, more than anything, was…

Be with Kathleen.

Not like that! His mind hastily reoriented itself, forcing himself to stand somewhat straighter, reminding him that he was a Chance. He could not just go about bedding women because he had a fancy for them.

More’s the pity.

No, it was the time spent with her that he craved.

“Kathleen,” Leopold said impulsively.

The smile on her face was too knowing. How long had he stood there, thinking?

“Leopold.”

Hearing his name on her lips should not have made him shiver. It just shouldn’t have. “I wondered…tomorrow, if you are unengaged”— Why had he used that word, why, why —“I wondered if you ate luncheon.”

Kathleen blinked. It was starting to become difficult to make her out, the dying light covering London with a gray blanket. “Yes. Yes, I eat luncheon most days.”

Blast . “I meant—if you wanted, I mean, there is no expectation, and I cannot guarantee it will be a good luncheon—sometimes Cook does nothing but sandwiches, but they are usually top rate—and I’m not even sure who will be there—not Thomas obviously, he’s visiting his mother-in-law, but perhaps Maude and maybe Alexander—and obviously, you may be busy; your afternoon engagement may require you to—”

“Leopold,” Kathleen interrupted him, suddenly by his side, her cheeks pink in the darkness. “Are… Are you inviting me to luncheon with your family?”

Leopold swallowed. Am I?

“Yes,” he said quietly.

It was not necessarily the best idea in the world. Why, he still had no clear idea of precisely what Miss Andilet, the sister, had done to warrant being sent away—though he had half a mind, he could guess—and the scandal was likely as not something his father would despise.

Assuming he knew about it. Would it be possible to keep such a thing from William Chance?

Not that his father would approve of all the time Leopold spent with Kathleen unchaperoned, either. Not that he would approve of him calling her “Kathleen” to begin with.

It was a foolish idea.

Then again, his father had been presented with hints as to Leopold’s activities, and he’d walked away, pretending, no doubt, he’d had little opinion on the matter. The dowager duke had not brought up Kathleen to his son since.

Kathleen’s cheeks were a darker shade of pink now. “I…I would be honored.”

Leopold’s shoulders sagged. There was no changing his mind now. “Good. Good.”

It was not a good idea. He knew it, deep down, but the temptation to test out the waters with his family was too much.

No amount of testing the waters could wash away the stain of her sister’s scandal, but perhaps…perhaps his father could look past it, like he seemed to be doing over the lack of chaperone. Perhaps he never had to know. Perhaps they would fall in love with Kathleen as much as he— careful now.

“I admit myself nervous to luncheon with a dowager duke and his family,” Kathleen said quietly as they walked in the darkness toward the club, the side gate unlocked thanks to the key in Leopold’s pocket, and then onto the street, where the gas lamps illuminated their path. “What does one wear?”

Leopold laughed. Then he realized Kathleen was not.

Ah.

“It’s just luncheon,” he said hastily. “Just wear whatever you think is best.”

Her smile was small, her nerves obvious. “I will. Thank you, Leopold. Lord Leopold, as I suppose you will have to be.”

Leopold’s stomach lurched, but he refused to give in to the trepidation. “Do not concern yourself,” he said, far more lightly than he felt. “It is just a luncheon. There is no need to panic.”

The following morning, he found himself saying much the same thing.

“There is no need to panic,” Leopold told his excited mother hurriedly as she rushed from room to room. “The house is perfectly acceptable. There is no need to fret so.”

“A young lady you are courting is about to come here and meet us all!” his mother said firmly, sweeping back an errant curl into her stylish coiffure and straightening a cushion that she had mere moments ago artistically twisted to be lopsided. “A young lady!”

“Lawks!” teased Alexander, a wicked smile quite at ease with his languid laugh, following their mother around the room and undoing all the changes she was making to the drawing room. “Oh, lawks, my poor old heart!”

Their mother whacked him on the arm. “Alexander!”

“Ouch, that hurt!”

Leopold grinned as his brother rubbed his elbow. “Serves you right. As I was saying, there is no need to—”

“Panic! Everyone, panic! I’m out of rosemary!” Cook had marched into the drawing room, apron stained with flour and a harassed look on her plump face. “And how, precisely, will I manage without it?”

“There’s plenty in the garden. Take what you want,” Maude said, stepping into the drawing room, her rosebud lips pursed and a brow arched. “Honestly, Leopold, trust you to put the house in such disarray. Who is this woman, anyway?”

“She’s no one—she’s a friend,” Leopold said hastily.

It was the wrong thing to say. Cook had meandered back down to the kitchens, but his mother placed a hand on her heart, Maude rolled her eyes, and Alexander was pretending to be sick in a vase of peonies.

“If only Thomas and Victoria were here,” said the dowager duchess, “then she could meet the whole family.”

“Why stop there?” Alexander grinned before throwing himself on the sofa, hands behind his head. “Why not invite the cousins? This Miss Andilet must be inspected, after all!”

His and Maude’s laughter was not designed to calm Leopold’s frayed nerves, and he was starting to wonder whether the whole escapade had been a bad idea. After all, this was supposed to be a calm, unpressurised opportunity for her to meet his family. If they were going to be this raucous…

“What’s all this noise?”

Leopold’s brother straightened on the sofa, his sister immediately stopped laughing, and his mother relaxed with a smile as she held out a hand to her husband.

“William,” she said fondly, kissing his hand before interlocking her fingers between his. “You have remembered that Leopold invited a friend of his to luncheon?”

“Hard to forget. He only informed us this morning at breakfast,” said Leopold’s father dryly.

Leopold had intended to maintain his smile, but it was a challenge, seeing his father’s disinterest.

Not that he wanted his father to be too interested. Peer too closely, and he may discover something about Kathleen Andilet that the Dowager Duke of Cothrom would not like. And there was the matter of Kathleen flitting about town, unchaperoned.