Page 27 of A Sporting Chance (The Chances #8)

Archery. It was the way they had met, she supposed, and it was a brilliant excuse to see each other at least two or three times a week.

But that was not the only thing that connected them, was it? When she had mastered the basics and had improved from there, would Leopold cease to meet with her?

Was their connection only real, only likely to continue, if she was bad at archery?

“For I do enjoy our lessons,” he said softly.

Kathleen’s spirits immediately brightened.

He enjoyed their lessons.

Of course he did. He’d die without them, remember?

“I enjoy all my time with you. I enjoyed the ball.”

Kathleen’s elation faded as Leopold’s mouth continued to utter complete nonsense.

“Very enjoyable, very enjoyable, indeed—the enjoyment was… was good,” he gabbled, a slight tension growing in his arm. “In fact, I—”

“Leopold,” Kathleen said quietly, squeezing his arm.

His runaway tongue ceased and he looked at her with almost shy eyes.

And it was this vulnerability that she adored.

How could she in any way fail to appreciate it?

Here was no rake, no man who would lie to her face and take what he could get.

This was not a man who teased the ladies then abandoned them once he had bedded them.

At least, Leopold had given no sign of that, despite her initial opinion of all bachelors of his rank.

No, he was caring, and thoughtful, and sometimes he got himself tangled in knots.

“The ball was indeed most entertaining,” Kathleen said softly as their footsteps slowed, their pace decreasing as they continued along the pavement.

Leopold’s smile was grateful. “I will admit, I have never had so much fun at a ball before.”

It was difficult not to feel a little pride. After all, it was surely because of her that he had so thoroughly enjoyed himself, was it not?

“The musicians were good,” she agreed.

There was a flicker of something unidentifiable in Leopold’s eyes as he said, “The dancers were better.”

Tendrils of teasing heat were curling around her and try as she might, Kathleen could not ignore them.

This man, he could set her aflame with his mere words. Had he any idea just how alluring he was? How much she wanted to—

“Yes, I think I would place tonight’s ball in the top three of the summer,” Leopold said brightly.

“My sister is determined to return to the country, we have stayed far later in London than normal, but my brother and mother insisted we remained for a few more balls. How does tonight’s compare to those you have attended? ”

She almost laughed aloud.

Compare to others? Just when she thought there was little difference between them, that she and Leopold were not so very different really, he said something like that.

Not that she was going to admit to as much, naturally. “Oh! Oh, yes. Very well.”

“Would you say that this has been your favorite?”

There was such earnestness in his expression that Kathleen was forced to tell the truth. “Leopold, this is the only ball that I have attended.”

His eyes widened at her confession. “What, truly? All year?”

Ah . Well, she could agree with him. It would not precisely be a lie.

Kathleen sagged against him, reveling in the way he immediately bore her weight. “No. Ever, Leopold. I… I have never attended a ball before.”

It was a most mortifying confession. Here she was, with a gentleman who had undoubtedly attended more balls in his lifetime than she had had hot dinners since moving to London. Very likely a great deal more.

Leopold halted in his tracks. “What, never?”

Kathleen could not help but laugh at the astonishment on his face. “You speak as though I have not taken a breath in the last six months!”

“But— never ? No dancing?”

“Oh, I attended the Assembly Rooms twice in our nearby town,” Kathleen said with a wave of her free hand. “And I have danced after large dinners a few times when I lived at home. But a private ball, like that? No, that is a new experience.”

One which had dazzled, and delighted, and made her feel small and insignificant. The place had been packed. It had felt as though there’d been more people in that ballroom than had remained in the rest of London.

The ladies had laughed and simpered and smiled, and the gentlemen had admired and stared and chuckled, and it had been a melting pot of beautiful gowns and tall men and the music played better than she’d ever heard before.

“I cannot believe it.” Leopold’s eyes were wide as he and Kathleen stood on the pavement, his astonishment evidently preventing his feet from operating. “That was truly your first ball—your first private one, I mean?”

Kathleen nodded with a shrug. “Yes.”

“But… But I cannot understand it. Your father is a gentleman. He must have some means, some good Society, even though you lived in the country.”

And that was when her stomach twisted.

It appeared it was not possible for the two of them to converse for more than ten minutes anymore without returning to the shadow of her sister.

Was this how it was to be for the rest of her life? Never being able to converse with anyone for any great length of time without them referencing in some way the stain of the Andilet name?

Her smile must have faded and something must have shown in her face, for Leopold swore quietly. “I am sorry. I should not have pried.”

“It is not prying. It is a very reasonable question,” said Kathleen brightly—or as brightly as she could manage.

“And yes, your summations are correct. Oh, there are few private balls in the country of the Seatons’ scale unless one is acquainted with a very wealthy family, but…

but Mother never liked the idea of us going to Town, and ironically, of course, we are now here alone.

It was my sister’s ruin that put paid to any formal entertainments at home. ”

Her mouth was dry and her shoulders tight, and she wished to goodness they could change the topic of conversation.

But how could she? No matter what they said, no matter the topics of chatter they shared, there would always be this looming over them. Looming over her.

“I suppose having a sister whose reputation is ruined does put a slight dampener on the invitation rate,” Leopold said quietly.

Kathleen looked up sharply, but there was no malice in his face. Her expression lightened. “It does, rather. But then, I had never experienced a proper private ball and so until tonight I did not know what I was missing. It is not difficult to go without that which you have never had.”

She saw the confusion, the genuine curiosity in his eyes, and worked hard not to sigh.

He did not understand. How could he? Here was a gentleman who had never gone without anything. Had never had to deprive himself. Had never fallen on hard times or had to sacrifice a favorite pastime or occupation because funds had fallen low.

As far as she could tell from the general chatter about his family, the Chances had always been wealthy, always been respected—save for a few forgivable blips—and always had whatever they wanted.

It must have been pleasant, leading such a charmed life.

“Well, I am glad that you were able to experience it tonight,” Leopold said quietly, turning to continue on with their walk.

Kathleen walked by his side, disappointed he had not taken the opportunity to sweep her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Not that he was likely to. But still. There had always been the possibility.

Then Leopold stopped. “Hold on. How did you get an invitation to the Seatons’ ball?”

It was all she could do not to panic and blurt out the truth. “What do you mean?”

The innocently asked question was not so innocent, and Leopold’s suspicious smile made her toes curl.

“Kathleen Andilet, you know precisely what I mean. You are, and please do not take offense at this, hardly running in the Seatons’ circles, yet you attended the ball tonight. How did you secure an invitation?”

Lie , whispered a small voice at the back of Kathleen’s mind.

She pushed it aside. It would be easy, yes, to pretend a truth that was believable. Leopold trusted her; he would believe whatever answer she gave.

And that was why it was all the more important to tell the truth.

“I did not receive an invitation,” she said quietly.

Leopold was staring in complete confusion, for which she did not blame him. After all, she hardly given a sufficient answer.

Sighing and dropping her gaze to her hands, Kathleen told her knees, “I… I am ashamed to admit it, but I cannot lie to you, Leopold. I received no invitation, but you had mentioned the ball was being held on this night and so I…I simply…turned up. I slipped in behind a pair with a couple of preening daughters trailing behind them at the door, disappearing into the crowd before the butler could try to announce two daughters’ names only and wonder why there was a third. ”

There was silence. The silence continued, so heavy and accusatory that she found herself continuing.

“And my sister doesn’t know. She thinks I have gone to bed with a toothache,” Kathleen added wretchedly. “That is why I am in no hurry to return home.”

The silence was maintained, and eventually, she had no option but to look up.

Leopold was silently—laughing?

“You are laughing,” Kathleen said, slight accusation in her tones.

He was not just laughing, he was clutching his sides. When he attempted to take a long breath, he burst into peals of giggles. “Kathleen Andilet!”

“What?” she said defensively, unnerved by his reaction.

Was he not supposed to be outraged? Was he not supposed to be disgusted with her, astonished that she would do such a thing? Would he not denounce her as a liar, a charlatan who worked her way into other people’s balls?

It was not his censure that she feared, but his rejection. Oh, to have her friendship, or whatever this was, with Lord Leopold Chance ruined before she had decided to march into a ballroom as though she’d belonged there—

“ Leopold !”

Kathleen had not intended to yelp his name, but she had been greatly provoked. It was natural, after all, to yell when a gentleman suddenly grabbed one’s hands, pulled you right into the middle of the street, and then yanked one against his chest.

It was most delightful with this particular gentleman, of course. But still.

Her heart racing, unsure what on earth he was doing, Kathleen found it was only when Leopold placed one hand on her waist and held the other aloft and started to move her in the style of a waltz that she realized what on earth he was doing.

“Leopold, we are—”

“Dancing, yes,” he said, swirling her around and making Kathleen feel as though she had left her stomach two paces away. “You have so little opportunity, I thought we should make the most of it.”

Kathleen beamed as he swung her around, the silent waltz music dictating their movements as Leopold danced her around the street in the moonlight.

“You are quite wonderful, you know.”

The words had slipped out before she could stop them. Kathleen’s cheeks burned as she noted the hitch in his chest, the way his mouth dropped open.

Was it truly so unusual for Leopold to hear such a thing?

“One cannot be wonderful alone,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on hers.

His speech did not lessen the heat in her cheeks, merely increase it—but Kathleen decided not to think about it. All she wanted to think about, in this moment, was Leopold’s hand on her waist, the sway of his hips near her own, and their dancing in the moonlight.