Page 35 of A Sporting Chance (The Chances #8)

There was. It appeared to take a long time, too, for the sun’s shadows moved about the sparsely furnished bedchamber as Kathleen attempted to encapsulate in just a few words precisely how she had fallen into Lord Leopold Chance’s orbit.

How she had been so attracted to him, so entranced by him.

How she had made that foolish bet, a mistake in hindsight but a perceived cleverness at the time. It had bought her time with him.

Angela’s eyebrows had risen at that point. Kathleen chose to ignore them.

Her tale continued, explaining how the archery had led to kissing, which had led to—

“I don’t actually need that particular detail,” said her sister hastily. “I… I get the basics. He bedded you.”

We bedded each other , Kathleen wanted to say, and it was so much more than a bedding. It was a meeting of minds, of hearts, of souls. Our bodies were there, yes, and they sparked a great deal of pleasure—but it was the connection that surpassed anything I could have dreamed of.

“It all sounds wonderful,” her sister said, and if Kathleen was not mistaken, there was a wistfulness in her tone she had never heard there before. “Hang Society and their expectations. But I have to presume that something went wrong, if you are sitting here weeping.”

Kathleen’s jaw tightened. “It did.”

She had not expected such pain in the retelling of the tale, but it grasped at her stomach like a vice as she managed to say the words ‘betting pool’.

She had expected the half-stifled sob of shock.

“And I am sorry, I am so sorry,” Kathleen said hastily, her regrets pouring out as swiftly as her apologies.

“I should never have—and once I had done so, I shouldn’t have—but I never expected, I didn’t think that he would, but I should have done.

I knew a man of his rank couldn’t want a woman like me. I knew—”

“Kathleen,” her sister said softly.

Kathleen did not heed her. How could she, when she had to purge herself from this unbearable guilt?

“You weren’t there, Angela. You did not hear him—oh, the way he spoke to that man, they were almost certainly in it together.

The whole thing was a trick! Yes, I proposed the bet, but I am sure he originally came over to entice me into something of the sort. I should never have—”

“Kathleen,” repeated her sister.

But now her words were flowing and Kathleen did not think she would ever be able to stop. “And I was so foolish, Angela. In time, I learned of his propensity to gamble and I somehow believed him when he insisted it was all lies. I somehow thought he would never—”

“Kathleen!”

Kathleen blinked. “There is no need to shout, you know,” she said, almost reproachfully. “I am sitting right beside you.”

“Then there should not be anything wrong with your ears,” her sister said with a wry look. “Kathleen, take a deep breath.”

It was difficult to do. Somehow, a tightness had crept into her lungs and ribcage and stomach. Forcing herself to breathe had never been so difficult in her entire life.

Precisely how she managed it, she did not know. She did know that she felt much better for it.

“What do you think I should do?” Kathleen asked timidly.

It was a prescient question. Their landlady, after all, would soon catch wind of the gossip if it moved fast. It was one thing to have a lady of soiled reputation taking one’s rooms if the scandal had happened a great distance away and no one entirely knew the details.

It was quite another for the son of a duke to be deflowering one’s lodgers.

Especially when the whole of Society would be talking about it tomorrow.

Kathleen’s throat tightened. She wouldn’t even be able to walk down the street.

Well. Perhaps that was a mite melodramatic. But it had been what had happened to Angela, had it not? The whole village had pointed, and whispered, a few of them hissing as though attempting to drive her out. And it had worked. They were here, weren’t they?

“What should you do?” repeated her sister, swallowing. “Well, I… I am hardly the paragon of virtue. But… But I have some news on that score.”

Kathleen frowned. “‘News’?”

What news could there possibly have been? Had their father written—was he willing to accept them back home? Surely, that opinion would alter once he discovered that he had not one, but two wayward daughters…

But no, it could not have been a letter from their father.

Now that Kathleen concentrated on the woman beside her, she found there was a lightness and a joy to her sister’s expression which she had not seen in months.

The wide eyes, the slackened mouth—it was if she were truly at peace.

In fact, now she came to think about it, Kathleen could not recall a time when Angela had looked so… so elated.

Almost euphoric.

He’s going to marry me, after all.

The thought, treacherous and nonsensical as it was, flared through Kathleen’s mind like a lighthouse in a storm.

Had Leopold sent a note to her sister, perhaps, and reiterated his decision to marry her? Was he going to stand by her, despite the betting pool, despite the suggestion that the whole bedding had been a means to an end?

Oh, she could surely find it in her heart to forgive him if—

“I have had a letter from Paul,” said Angela in a rush.

Kathleen blinked. “Paul? Who is Paul?”

For some reason, her sister appeared to deflate. “Paul. The baronet’s son from home—you know Paul.”

“Oh. Paul,” said Kathleen blankly. “Mr. Keystone.”

Paul. The boy who had run about with them and the other village children, and who had then disappeared off to school.

Then Mr. Keystone, who had returned a man and a most dull one in Kathleen’s opinion.

Mr. Keystone, who had sat two pews before them at church and gulped whenever he thought someone was looking at him.

“Mr. Keystone,” she repeated. “You called him ‘Paul.’ Sir Paul?”

The man’s father had died recently, so she supposed he was the baronet now. But what on earth had he to do with this? With anything?

“You see, he was sent away before he knew the gossip had started and so he had no idea, and then his father died and he had a great deal to manage, and he did not know where I had gone and so his solicitors found me…”

Slow yet dawning comprehension started to creep over Kathleen’s mind.

Surely not… Surely not, after all this time wondering who it could have been… Not Mr. Keystone?

“—and though I have almost exclusively made wrong decisions until now, I am certain this is the right one,” said her sister with flushed cheeks. “So we are to be married.”

Kathleen could hardly take it all in, but she heard the word ‘married’ and her instincts prevailed. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” said Angela, her dimpled cheekbones positively shining. “Except…”

The smile was fading and a knot in Kathleen’s stomach suggested that somehow, she was the cause. “Except?”

Her sister was looking at her hands now, twisted in her lap. “Except… Well, our engagement was a secret and I could not reveal it, not until I managed to get in contact with Paul again. There is no true scandal, just a misunderstanding—we have not even…”

Kathleen waited for a moment, puzzlement creasing her brow, until she suddenly realized what Angela was suggesting. Her brows shot up. “Never?”

“We did not have much opportunity,” her sister said with a laugh. “We simply made the mistake— once —of being caught alone in the drawing room when that awful, old gossip Mrs. Trent was visiting Mother for luncheon.”

Kathleen frowned. “When was this?” Though not being present for one of Mrs. Trent’s visits sounded very much like herself, she had to admit.

“That day you and Father and Johnny went for a walk to see the spring flowers. I’d only stopped into the drawing room to grab Mother’s needlework she wanted to show our guest. He’d been waiting for Mother and me to join him, after Mrs. Trent finally left.

But just as Mrs. Trent did leave, his hand may have…

Well. It may have been on my arm at the time she peeked into the room. I’d left the door open.”

Kathleen’s breath hitched. She couldn’t believe everything that had happened because of a brief touch. And a wagging tongue.

“You could have told me,” she whispered.

Angela swallowed. “No, I knew I’d made a mistake.

And I kept making them. I should never have let Father send us to London without a chaperone.

I, of all people, know that just the appearance of impropriety is enough to ruin a woman.

Yet I’ve been too depressed to warn you against the same.

I let you walk around Town on your own— I walked around Town all on my own.

” She sighed. “I haven’t been thinking straight.

Father was so unkind to send us here alone, to say those things he did about me, about you for being my ally—and I’ve been too focused on waiting to hear from Paul. ”

She stared back at Kathleen, her eyelids fluttering. “And now I have heard from him. But… Well… When the news gets out about yourself and Lord Leopold…”

Angela’s voice trailed off delicately, but not so delicately that Kathleen did not, with a jolt of pain, realize what she was suggesting.

Oh, no. No, no . After all this time, Angela having to wait in the shadows for her swain—it was difficult to think of Sir Paul as a lover or wooer—to be ready to announce their engagement…was her sister’s happiness all going to be ruined…because of her?

It was. Kathleen knew it—she could see the shape of it in the air.

Once the news got out that Kathleen had not only been bedded by a nobleman, but he had no intention of marrying her and had been involved in a betting pool at the London Archery Club, absolutely no one of repute would ever wish to be associated with her.

And that would include Angela. A future baronetess.

The sister she had sacrificed her own comfort for.

“Oh, Angela, I am so sorry. I shall go away. You can pretend you are entirely unrelated to me. You can—”

“You think I would abandon you? You stood by my side not even knowing the truth, and you would expect me to disown you?”

Kathleen had never seen her sister so furious. There were sparks flying from her eyes and a great deal of anger in her voice.

She swallowed. “No, it’s just… I would never expect you to stand by me. In this situation.”

“Well, you should,” Angela said firmly. “You are my sister. Your happiness means something to me, and I would not abandon you. I would give up…”

Kathleen did not need to look at her sister to see the pain she was enduring just to say the words.

Because she would do it, too. She would give up her opportunity for true happiness merely because Kathleen had made a fool of herself.

Angela would wave goodbye to Sir Paul and accept the life of a spinster and outcast, all because Kathleen had trusted a gambler who enjoyed playing with the lives of others for sport.

“I will find another source of happiness,” Angela murmured, still twisting her hands together in her lap. “I will be happy if you are happy. We can be happy together.”

Kathleen had never felt less happy in her life. She had seen a spark of her sister’s happiness, the anticipation of being reunited with the man she loved, but that joy had been snuffed out before it had truly begun—and because of her own actions.

She wanted that. Not the snuffing. The happiness.

A part of her had dreamed that she could have it with Leopold. For a short time, she had believed it possible.

And now…

“I will not leave you alone,” said Angela steadily.

Kathleen smiled through her tears, trying to remind herself that she was not alone. She would never be alone. “And I will not leave you alone. But, Angela, your Sir Paul—”

“Your Lord Leopold,” countered her sister almost immediately with a wry smile and sparkling eyes as unshed tears collected in the corners of her eyes.

Just hearing his name was agony. Not trusting her voice, Kathleen tried to smile as she blew out a slow exhale.

They would never see either of them again.