Page 32 of A Sporting Chance (The Chances #8)

T he slow, dawning light that crept through the undrawn curtains was enough to wake Leopold, if the aching in his bones had not been sufficient.

Unconsciousness was dragged from him. Protesting at every juncture, his mind slipped from the welcoming grasp of slumber and was drawn inexorably toward the light. Toward waking. Toward dawn.

Leopold groaned.

He was lying face down in his bed, without his nightshirt, tiredness pulling at the corners of his eyes most inexplicably.

He had, after all, had a good night’s sleep, had he not?

He could feel the satisfaction in his limbs, how comfortable the bed was, the way Kathleen had earlier wrapped her legs around his—

He sat up so hastily, his pillow tipped to the floor as he stared at the now-empty bed.

Kathleen.

“It’s happening again, it’s—oh—oh, Leopold!”

The memories were slipping back now, startling him not only with their power, but at how readily he lost himself within them. Kathleen, naked and writhing beneath him. Kathleen, gasping his name and attempting, quite unsuccessfully, to be quiet. Kathleen, looking at him like…

Like he was the only man in the world.

Leopold smiled in slight awe as the recollections soared into his mind. Dear God, he had—and she had… They had…

“You are not injured?”

“I soon will be, if you do not bring me to ecstasy again!”

It was more than he could have ever hoped for. It was more than he could have imagined, after ruining his reputation with that foolish rumor that he was a cheat.

Well, Kathleen did not believe so. She believed in him, in his word—so much that on the mere verbal agreement between them that no one else had heard, she had been willing to give herself to him.

It was an honor. It was a privilege.

It was certainly more than he had expected from a quiet night at home.

Sinking back into the remaining pillow on his bed, Leopold tried to think, but it was a distinct challenge. The taste of Kathleen was still on his lips. The giddiness she’d given him remained, like a port drunk too late in the evening and not rid from his system by morning.

Not that he wanted to rid Kathleen from his system—far from it. No, she was spectacular—everything he had been missing from life, everything he had not known he had wanted.

And she was his.

Blinking at the astonishing turn of events the evening had taken, Leopold spent a few minutes in bed trying to understand precisely how it had happened. After a while, he decided it did not matter.

It had been done. That was the most important part. He had gained a wife, one who was brave and outspoken and refined and elegant. She was beautiful, and scalding to the touch, and gentle.

His happiness had never been greater.

Leopold spent at least another hour in bed reliving the memories of the night before and then wondered with great pain how Kathleen must have slipped out of the room, the house, even, in the early hours of the morning, without saying goodbye.

Well, she was perhaps wiser than he was. Lord knew what his father would say if he found—

His father.

Leopold swallowed. It was going to be an interesting conversation.

He would have to speak to his father immediately, of course, and make the case for marrying her.

It would require confessing—or as relating as much as he could—about Kathleen’s sister’s past, and he would have to be firm in his resolve.

He was going to marry her, ruination of her sister or not. He would make the case for marrying her, make it absolutely clear to his father that he would brook no argument…and then ask for his portion with which to establish his new household.

Oh, that was going to be awkward.

When Leopold descended the staircase, however, it was to discover much to his surprise that neither his father nor mother were at breakfast. In fact, no one was.

“Where is everyone?” he inquired of Nicholls, their butler.

The servant cleared his throat professionally. “I am afraid the rest of the family has already breakfasted, my lord.”

“‘Already breakfasted’?” Leopold repeated.

That was most unlike them—his siblings most especially. None of the Chances were particularly known for their ability to get going in the mornings—at least, not this branch of the family.

“Yes, breakfasted, my lord,” confirmed Nicholls.

It was most odd. “Why so early?”

The butler cleared his throat again and made a dramatic turn to look at the longcase clock in the corner. Leopold followed his gaze.

Ah. That was why.

“I was actually about to serve luncheon, my lord,” said the man delicately, with only the most delicate hint of reproach. “Shall I—”

“In fact, Nicholls, you could do me a favor and ask a footman to deliver a note for me,” said Leopold, his mind sparking with the idea. “As my parents are undoubtedly out by now?”

The servant inclined his head. “The dowager duke and duchess are out visiting, Master Leopold.”

“Yes, yes, right…” How very like Father to be unavailable for conversation just when I need him , Leopold could not help but think. It was most irritating, but there it was.

And it would give him the opportunity to speak to a certain someone beforehand.

“Your note, my lord?”

Leopold blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

The long-suffering butler sighed and attempted to smile, but he was clearly out of practice. “Your note, my lord. The one you wished the footman to deliver.”

“Oh. Oh, yes.”

It did not take long to write. At least, it did not take him long to write the note, which eventually was given to a footman along with strict instructions to place it into the hands of the younger Miss Andilet and no one else.

Leopold spent almost ten minutes writing the other notes first, but they were all given up as a bad job and thrown in the fireplace to be burnt when the weather dipped low enough to warrant it.

Rather embarrassingly, the resulting note was painfully short.

Miss Andilet—archery today at 3 P.M.

Leopold had thought of a great deal that he wanted to put in the note.

That she was special, and rare, and precious.

That if he did not follow through on his offer to her, then he would be a fool, and worse, a coward.

That she could have her pick of the gentlemen in Town and he was honored to be hers. That he wanted to—

That was when he had run out of both paper and decisiveness. Having Nicholls breathing over his shoulder did not help.

As it was, the note was hopefully succinct and to the point. Making the arrangement to practice archery with her was one thing. Seeing her, and preventing himself from kissing her, was quite another.

How Leopold managed to endure the following few hours, he did not know.

Maude wandered in and attempted to speak with him about something that she said was important, but he could not make his mind focus, and eventually, she snorted and wandered out again muttering about useless brothers, which Leopold thought was a touch harsh.

And then it was time. He stepped out into the crisp, afternoon air and felt the wave of heat, and he wondered how it could no longer compare with the heat he had shared with Kathleen.

Leopold beamed at almost everyone he passed on his way to the London Archery Club.

Wasn’t life wonderful? Wasn’t it easy? After all his desperate attempts to make people believe he was no card sharp, it did not matter.

Kathleen believed him. She trusted him, and she was the only person who would ever matter.

The Club was busy when he arrived. Chatter erupted from all sides as he entered, and Leopold heard a few people mutter about a shady dealer.

It took him a moment, in his buoyancy, to realize whom they were talking about.

For a moment, a flickering heartbeat, the elation from his evening with Kathleen wavered. Was he ever to be truly rid of this reputation—one he had done nothing to earn?

And then stability resumed. What did it matter what others thought of him, if Kathleen believed him? What did he need the respect of others for, if Kathleen esteemed him?

“Gentlemen,” Leopold said politely, inclining his head as he walked through the London Archery Club and out to the other side.

There they were: the butts that were such a centralized part of his life. Now they had combined with Kathleen, it was hard to think of another firm foundation of his life.

So all he had to do was select the bow she liked and find one of his own, and—

“I thought you would be here early,” came a teasing voice.

The recognition of that voice sent heat soaring through Leopold’s limbs and made him want to forget about archery completely and instead turn around and kiss the owner of that voice most heartily.

As it was, there were other gentlemen out by the butts, making the instinct impossible to follow through on. Which was a shame.

Kathleen was beaming, her cheeks pink as she met his eye, but her gaze was nonetheless unabashed. “Good afternoon, Lord Leopold.”

There was a slight tease in her air, not a mockery but a flirtation, and he reveled in it.

After all, it was not as though he spoke this way with anyone else.

This was something they shared, something unique to themselves.

It was precious, and perfect, and he could not comprehend anything more splendid.

Well. Perhaps not many things.

“Good afternoon, Miss Andilet,” Leopold replied, smiling at the mischievous formality she was using. “I hope you slept well?”

Perhaps that was too direct a prod, for her cheeks blossomed then into dark red. She overcame the sudden shock of his directness soon enough, however, and with only the merest glance over at the other gentlemen of the London Archery Club, stepped closer to him.

“I am sorry that I departed so swiftly when…when we were last together,” she said softly, her eyes expressive. “I thought it best that I not be discovered.”