Page 24 of A Sporting Chance (The Chances #8)

L eopold tried not to sigh, he really did. But his shoulders hurt and his eyes were sore, and the last thing he wanted to do was precisely what he was being required to do.

“But, Father, I don’t—”

“I did not ask what you did or did not want to do,” said the dowager duke curtly as he tugged his jacket to ensure a perfect fit. “I informed you of what you were doing.”

Leopold’s jaw tightened. “Father.”

The hallway was empty save for themselves.

Alexander had not arrived home that afternoon and was in trouble with both their parents for absconding from the dreaded Seaton ball, and Maude and their mother were still upstairs letting their lady’s maids put the final touches on their hair. Or something.

That left Leopold and his father waiting for them, and they had somehow managed to enter a considerably terse conversation.

“But I don’t want—”

“It is expected, and therefore, you will accompany your sister and act as her chaperone,” the Dowager Duke of Cothrom said sternly. “I do not ask for much, Leopold. You have a significant income, almost total freedom, and the Chance name. Do you think I ask too much?”

Leopold swallowed the answer.

Yes , he wanted to say. Yes, you ask for too much. You ask for perfection. You ask for no mistakes, no disagreements, and no discussion.

But those were words he could not say. Words he would never say.

He loved his father. He respected him.

But sometimes…sometimes he did not like him very much.

“Maude is one and thirty, Father,” he tried to point out in a way that was respectful. “Many would argue…”

His voice faded away as William Chance turned from the looking glass to stare, unblinking, at his son.

“Yes?” said his father in clipped tones. “Many would argue what?”

Leopold bit his lip. He was not going to be the first in the family to say it, though he was almost certain his mother had thought it. It was not a pleasant conclusion to reach, it spoke nothing of Maude’s value and intelligence, but…

Well. She was over the age of thirty. Most of her peers were married. Many were mothers. Some of those mothers were considering bringing their daughters out in a year or two.

And still Lady Maude Chance attended balls and dinners and card parties and picnics, and she did not receive a single proposal.

Soon—painful though it was to think—soon, she would be openly considered a spinster. An old maid. No doubt most of Society already did think that, as there were women five years her junior already with the label.

Though that was probably not something worth saying to her father.

“Nothing,” Leopold said quietly. “I misspoke. I apologize for the interruption.”

His father nodded, once, then returned to the looking glass as he attempted to straighten a perfectly straight cravat.

Leopold sighed. It was not the evening he wanted. The sun was still up and the air crisp and clear. It was a perfect evening for practicing his archery at the London Archery Club. If he sent a note to Kathleen, perhaps she could join him.

Yet here he was, preparing for a night of polite conversation, which just meant dull, passive listening to the gossip of Society, while attempting not to become the subject of such gossip at the next tiresome ball.

“You surprise me.”

Leopold looked up from his gloves. “I do?”

His father nodded, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “I would have thought a young gentleman like yourself would be eager for a ball. An opportunity to…ahem. Meet a young lady.”

The heat searing Leopold’s cheeks could not entirely be put down to the fact that his mind had immediately soared to Kathleen. No, it was because his father was attempting to have…the conversation with him.

Thomas had warned him about it. “A few months after my wedding is over, you’ll start to feel the pressure,” his oldest brother had warned. “They’ll want to marry all of you off.”

Heaven forbid his father attempt to matchmake for him.

“I meet plenty of young ladies,” Leopold said aloud, hoping to goodness his mother and Maude would soon appear. “Miss Andilet, for example.”

Mentioning Kathleen was a mistake. His father’s form became even stiffer, if that were possible, and his voice was rough as he said, “Yes.”

That was all. Yes . The censure was plain.

“I like her,” Leopold said boldly, his pulse increasing in pace as he spoke. “You appeared to like her when she came for luncheon. Both you and Mother—”

“She appeared to be a very well-meaning girl,” said his father curtly. “Though not well-meaning enough to make her way across Town properly with a chaperone, I noticed.”

The rebuke was excruciating. Leopold took a step backward, the moment unsettling. “But—”

“But what is expected of you is to find a lady of a good, noble family, and to make a match through her father,” his own father continued. “That is what is expected.”

Expected, expected—there are a great many things expected , thought Leopold darkly, but he did not wish to have to do them all his life. Where was the freedom his position in Society was supposed to offer? Where was the excitement?

“There you are,” said his mother, descending the staircase as though it had been Leopold who had been holding them all up. “Maude, you look beautiful.”

Leopold’s sister was following her mother down the stairs and rolled her eyes expressively as she reached the bottom. “As do you, Mother.”

“Oh, but it is much more important that you shine this evening.”

“Why?” asked Maude innocently as she pulled on her long gloves.

Leopold stifled a smile as he watched his mother tie herself in silent knots. He stepped forward, taking the pelisse from Nicholls and placing it around his sister’s shoulders. “Cleverly done,” he whispered in her ear.

“I know,” whispered back Maude with a giggle. “Really, Mama and Papa are sometimes the most—”

“The carriage is ready for you, Your Graces,” murmured their butler.

“Of course it is,” said Maude with a snort. “God forbid it not be. Come on, Leopold.”

The carriage ride was much as Leopold had expected.

“And I will expect each of you to dance thrice, although clearly no more than once with the same partner,” intoned their father as he always did as they traveled to a ball.

Really , Leopold thought with a sigh as he tried not to catch his sister’s eye, lest they collapse into giggles. He could probably give the entire speech himself. He was next going to advise against drinking the wine.

“And do not drink the wine,” warned William sharply, looking predominately at Maude as he spoke. “No one ever puts out their best wine at a ball, and should one of you fall ill—”

“No one is going to fall ill,” Leopold said quietly.

“No one is going to drink the wine,” added Maude, a twinkle in her eye. “Not when there is punch, or brandy, or—”

“ Maude Chance !”

“She is only jesting, my dear,” their mother said quickly, placing a hand on her husband’s sleeve and casting a warning glance at Maude.

Maude’s sigh was the last thing spoken in the carriage for a few minutes. Leopold had thought the whole thing had blown over, but then…

“We are adults, Father,” his sister said quietly. “You can trust us, you know. At least try to trust Leopold and me. It may have escaped your notice, but it is Alexander who is not here, not us.”

Leopold’s chest tightened. It was unlike Maude to point out the indiscretion of a sibling. In general, they protected each other. Alexander must have upset her before he’d left the house that morning.

Their father sniffed. “It’s little comfort to me that three of my four children consider their duty to their parents as important.”

“Now, dear, please,” started the dowager duchess.

“We are here,” said Leopold swiftly, lurching for the carriage door handle as the conveyance came to a stop before a footman even approached them.

It was a relief to half-step, half-fall out of there. The tension had been growing the entire journey, but it was only going to increase.

Thankfully, however, he now stood on the pavement before the Seaton residence, the dying sunlight setting the windowpanes ablaze.

It was just a ball. True, he had no hope of enjoyment.

There may be a few of his cousins here with whom he could converse, and perhaps dance, but there was no possibility that Kathleen would be invited, not in a million years.

Throw it all to hell. He could not spend this entire evening thinking about Kathleen.

“They are impossible.” Maude sniffed as she took the footman’s proffered hand and stepped out beside her brother, not bothering to lower her voice.

Leopold gave a quiet smile. “They are doing their best.”

“At infuriating me, I quite agree,” said his sister with a sigh, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm and marching him forward before either of their parents descended from the carriage. “I don’t know how you can stand it.”

He stood it because that was the way it would always be. His father was not going to change. There was no point in hoping for different.

“I, for one, will be spending as much time as I can far away from Papa,” said Maude as she allowed a Seaton footman to take her pelisse. “You know he’s actually started to threaten to pull Miss Ashbrooke out of retirement?”

Leopold’s eyes widened at that. “No. Surely not.”

His sister gave a slow nod as they walked through the open double doors into the ballroom. “You had better be careful. If I find someone to take me off their hands, they’ll use her matchmaking skills for you instead.”

The thought was indeed terrifying. Leopold had met the Countess of Lenskeyn only once. She had given up matchmaking upon her own marriage, yet her maiden name was still spoken with reverence by many of the mamas seeking good matches for their daughters.

“You know our parents only want the best for you,” Leopold said quietly as he picked up a glass of champagne from a silver platter being held out by a footman, handing the drink to his sister.

Maude’s eyes softened. “I know. If only we agreed on what was best.”