Page 21 of A Sporting Chance (The Chances #8)
The doorbell jangled. Alexander winked at Leopold, who fought down the instinct to throw a cushion at him, and instead addressed his entire family.
“Please,” he said, trying not to plead as the footsteps of Nicholls echoed in the hall. “Please, just… just be nice. Miss Andilet is not accustomed to—”
Precisely what she was not accustomed to, Leopold was never able to explain. In that moment, the door opened and the corpulent and stiff-backed Nicholls showed in a nervous and an exceedingly well-dressed Kathleen Andilet.
Leopold swallowed, pinned to the spot by the sight of her. It was not that she was ever poorly dressed; simply dressed was perhaps the better description.
But not this afternoon. No, today, Kathleen was wearing a most elegant lace blouse that buttoned up to her neck in the newer style, her blue skirt high-waisted and elegantly embroidered at the hem.
There were what appeared to be diamond earbobs in her ears and there was a bracelet that matched around one wrist. And she was…
She was glowing—there was no other word for it. Her smile was genuine, if not a little nervous, and she appeared to glow from within.
The silence in the room was deafening. Leopold wondered for a moment why no one was saying anything, and only after a meaningful cough from his sister did he realize.
He was supposed to be the one talking.
“Miss Andilet,” he said hastily, stepping forward and discovering quite to his astonishment that his legs were still working.
Kathleen dropped into a curtsey and murmured, “Lord Leopold.”
It was odd, hearing such formality when they had grown so casual and informal in their address. But he could not think of that now.
“Father, you have met Miss Andilet,” Leopold said, gesturing to his father and hoping to goodness he remembered.
It appeared he did. William Chance, Dowager Duke of Cothrom, inclined his head. “Miss Andilet.” He made no comment on Kathleen arriving without a chaperone.
Good, then. He is going to pretend it is not an issue.
“And I have the pleasure of introducing you to my mother, Alice Chance, the Dowager Duchess of Cothrom,” Leopold said as his mother smiled at her husband’s side.
Kathleen’s curtsey was far lower now than it had been when she had first addressed Leopold. As it should be , Leopold reminded himself quickly.
“I have the pleasure of introducing you to my sister, Lady Maude.”
Maude actually rose to curtsey to Kathleen, which made Leopold start—but then, his sister was older than himself and did not know of Miss Andilet’s…whatever had occurred with the elder Miss Andilet. Besides, it was rather a nice touch.
Was… Was his family behaving?
“Don’t forget me!” Alexander bounded up to stand beside him and was gazing at Kathleen with a look that Leopold did not like.
“And I have the displeasure of introducing you to Lord Alexander Chance, my brother,” said Leopold with a tickle in his throat as he nudged his brother in the arm. “Try to behave, Alex.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about. Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Andilet,” said Alexander with a smooth smile.
“I must say, my brother has an excellent taste in friends. Come, sit by me on the sofa, Miss Andilet, and tell me all the things about my brother that he does not wish me to know.”
There was gentle laughter that rippled around the room as Kathleen smiled and accepted the youngest Chance’s invitation.
Maude returned to her armchair and joined in the conversation with Alexander and Kathleen, and Leopold noticed his parents exchanging meaningful looks as they moved to the window and spoke in low voices.
Which left him…alone.
Leopold swallowed. He knew he should not have minded. His family, it appeared, had decided to be on their best behavior, which was not ever guaranteed. And it was pleasant, was it not, that his siblings were taking an interest? Was that not the point of the luncheon?
Still. He tried not to watch the way that Alexander made Kathleen laugh, the way she looked at him with a broad smile, the closeness of the two of them on the sofa.
His brother was a known rake, a reputation unhidden from Leopold and recently discovered by their disapproving parents. He was so…so charming. So easily able to win over the affections of a lady.
Surely, he wouldn’t—
“Luncheon is served,” intoned Nicholls, the butler appearing at the door almost silently.
Leopold lurched over to Kathleen. “I’ll walk you in, Miss Andilet!”
“Leopold, we don’t need to be so formal as all that!” Alexander laughed as the trio rose to their feet. “You must excuse my brother, Miss Andilet. He is a stickler for the formalities.”
Neck burning, Leopold tried not to let it show how much his brother’s teasing was irking him. He was not a stickler for the formalities.
“Though he does not always follow the rules,” pestered Alexander with a wink.
Now his whole body was burning. Was that a thinly veiled reference to the gossip about him cheating at cards? Surely, he wouldn’t bring that up.
“I will take Miss Andilet in, to prevent you boys from arguing over her,” said Maude sternly, taking Kathleen’s hand and placing it in the crook of her arm. “Honestly, you never grow up. Do you have brothers, Miss Andilet?”
“Only the one, I am glad to say,” Kathleen jested as the two ladies walked out into the hall. “Mine is younger too, and quite a troublemaker.”
“You are smitten,” came a low voice.
Leopold’s face flushed. “No, I’m not.”
Alexander rolled his eyes. “If you ever need any advice, brother, I have no issue sharing the techniques that I—ouch! Mama!”
“I’ll have none of that,” their mother said sternly after whacking her son once again. “Miss Andilet is clearly a refined young lady and she is here to eat luncheon, not be predated on. Go on, Leopold. Find a seat next to your friend.”
It was galling to be spoken to in such a way, but Leopold could not deny it was an excellent excuse to go after Kathleen and Maude. They had just entered the dining room, and Leopold was swift to ensure that although his sister was seated on Kathleen’s right, he was on her left.
Right. That was better.
“Just a normal luncheon,” he said brightly, trying not to permit his eyes to bulge at the sheer amount of food that Cook had created. “Just like any other—”
“Dear Lord, did Cook think twenty were coming to luncheon?” Alexander grinned as he stepped into the dining room and sat opposite Kathleen. “I like your bracelet, Miss Andilet. How exquisite.”
Leopold glared at his brother, but there was no malice in his words, and the delight in Kathleen’s eyes showed she’d quite enjoyed the compliment.
Damn . He should have said something about the bracelet.
“Help yourself, do. We do not stand on ceremony at luncheon,” said Leopold’s mother with a warm smile. “No formality here. Would you like some cold salmon?”
There was cold salmon, and cold potatoes, peas, mushrooms, a trout in a sauce Leopold did not recognize, a cold chicken with slices of ham beside it, another type of potato that appeared to have been roasted then basted with a sauce that smelled absolutely delicious, some sort of pie that could have been ham but could also be pheasant…
Kathleen helped herself, cheeks flushing, and accepted a glass of wine from the footman with an inclination of her head.
She may not be nobility , Leopold could not help but think, but she certainly seems comfortable dining at a dowager duke’s table.
With his parents entering and beginning a discussion on precisely when they would leave Town for the country estate, a topic that Alexander and Maude entered into furiously, Leopold was finally able to say in a low voice, “Thank you for coming. And sorry about them.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Kathleen quietly, a smile teasing her lips. “Your family has been most welcoming.”
Leopold tried not to look at Alexander, who was arguing vociferously with their parents that they should stay as long as possible in Town. “Yes, he’s good at that.”
“I meant all of them.” There was no censure in Kathleen’s words, just mirth. “Your sister is most attentive. She has the true look of your mother, does she not? There is not a hint of your father in her.”
It was all Leopold could do not to smile. Well, Kathleen had been relatively open about her own family. Perhaps it was time that she learned about my own.
“That is because,” he said in a murmur, choosing his words carefully, “there is not a hint of my father in her. Maude is my half-sister. Our mother was married before she ever met my father.”
“Oh!”
As he had expected, pink seared the cheeks of the woman beside him as she glanced over at Maude and then William.
It was not exactly a secret. There had been—not precisely a scandal, but something akin to one when his parents had been married, apparently.
“My mother neglected to inform my father that she was a widow with a child when they married,” Leopold said in a low voice and a smile. “Rather a shock for him, the story goes. They laugh about it now, naturally, but I get the impression it tested his heart.”
“But—Lady Maude Chance ?”
Leopold nodded. “My father saw through Society’s humiliation in the end and adopted Maude within a few months of their marriage. We’ve always been one family, even though we come from different places.”
Kathleen glanced at Maude again, and he felt the fierce protectiveness that all three Chance brothers felt over their sister rise up.
No one would be foolish enough in Society to say anything disparaging about the eldest Chance sibling—the eldest of all the cousins—in front of her family, but Maude had been spoken to in the past in a most upsetting way.
Her birth father of course had been a scoundrel, and their mother had not exactly told Leopold’s father of the girl’s existence when they had wed…
It had all grown rather complicated. But William, then the Duke of Cothrom, had made it clear that anyone who spoke to his daughter like that again could expect to be called out.
It had never been repeated, but it had not halted his three sons imbibing a strong sense of protectiveness around their sister.
“She is one of us,” he said, perhaps too fiercely, for Kathleen turned back to him with wide eyes.
“I can see that,” she said softly. “Family is made, not a given. And besides, it is clear your parents have treated all three—no, there’s another brother, how could I forget? All four of you, equally.”
Leopold tried not to snort as he took a mouthful of the pie—it was pheasant—and swallowed hastily. “Yes, we have been. Equally high standards, equally high expectations, equally low tolerance for mistakes.”
He did not look at his father as he spoke.
“You… You speak as though you are worried you will be a disappointment.”
Kathleen’s voice was low and her insight was profound. Leopold was forced to take a gulp of wine before he replied. It was only as he put his glass down that he realized his father had ordered one of their best from the cellar for the table.
“It is not a case of if , but when ,” he said quietly, twisting his fork in his fingertips. “I will never… My father’s expectations are high. I will disappoint him.”
And instead of replying straight away, Kathleen put her cutlery down and placed a hand on his.
It was not highly sensual. It should not have aroused heat, nor shock that she had done such a thing. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his mother had noticed but was carefully looking away, only the pink tips of her ears a sign that she had seen the intimate movement.
Friend. Yes, that was how he had described Kathleen to his parents. They had been very circumspect, not mentioning that it was highly unusual for a gentleman and a lady to grow a friendship that did not spark gossip.
Except his cousin Irene and her friend Wilf Zouch, obviously. But that was different. They would rather eat dung than fall in love with each other.
But how he felt for Kathleen, in this moment… Well, friendship was only a part of it.
“Leopold,” Kathleen said quietly, “you could never be a disappointment.”
He wanted to believe her. Who wouldn’t? And yet… And yet…
Leopold gave a strained smile as he pulled his hand from hers and returned to his luncheon. “You don’t know me well enough to say that,” he said, as the sheer amount of money he had lost wavered in his mind. “One day, the disappointment will well and truly come, and it will be all my fault.”