Page 38 of A Sporting Chance (The Chances #8)

K athleen looked down at the piece of paper in her hand and frowned. “I am not sure.”

“You do not need to be sure. It is an invitation,” muttered her sister, who did not look up from her embroidery. “There is no surety needed.”

“I meant, I am not sure if I will attend,” Kathleen pointed out with a frown. “What are you doing?”

Angela cleared her throat and looked up. There was guilt, most unaccountable guilt, in the quiver of her chin. “Nothing.”

Nothing. It was the frequent rejoinder of her sister since her engagement had been revealed. Kathleen was no fool; she knew it was the response Angela gave her when her sister was happily and busily preparing for the hoped-for new life.

A new life she would only gain if the stain of Kathleen’s scandal disappeared.

Kathleen should have known their vow to both stay unwed if one sister did would not last long. Nor should she have expected it to. She did not wish her sister unhappiness.

“Nothing?” Kathleen raised a quizzical brow.

Her sister was unable to resist her query for long. Wrinkling her nose jovially, she lifted up the fabric she had been embroidering. It was a handkerchief. “Just… Just changing my initials.”

Kathleen’s stomach twisted painfully as she tried to smile. “That’s wonderful.”

And it was. It was wonderful—or at least, it would be, provided the marriage actually went ahead. Provided Sir Paul would go through with the wedding if the Andilet name managed to survive this latest scandal.

What she would not think were the dark thoughts that intruded whenever she and Angela carefully stepped around the awkwardness of Angela’s potential future marriage.

Dark thoughts like…where was Kathleen going to live?

“I thought, daisies and roses because I’ve never decorated my handkerchiefs before, alongside my new initials,” continued her sister with a bright smile that was almost too brittle. “So I decided that today, with the good light…”

Kathleen allowed Angela to talk. It seemed to help, filling the little room with noise and forcing the awkwardness away.

This little room had felt stifling when they had first taken up residence. It was nothing to the drawing room at home.

And now what would become of her?

She could not retain the rooms on her own. She could not live here in London without a single friend. But would Angela expect her to return to their parents? Their father would surely not accept it, not if he heard about Leopold…

The sudden and all-consuming pain that clenched around her was momentary, but it made Kathleen gasp and reach out to clasp the console table.

“Kathleen?”

Kathleen blinked, and when she looked up at her sister, she was both composed and smiling. “I still think this invitation is most suspect.”

Yes, that was it, focus on the letter that had arrived that morning, and not the dreaded thoughts about how she would be potentially forced to accept the role of spinsterly aunt to her sister’s future children.

Not something she had ever considered.

Her sister shrugged. “So you are invited to go to Hyde Park at two o’clock this afternoon. I do not see how that is suspect.”

“Angela, the note is unsigned!”

It was a mark of how much her sister was lost in the prospect of her marriage. Two weeks ago, two days ago, Kathleen was certain Angela would have been most anxious about the idea of anonymous notes demanding Kathleen’s attendance in any place, even one so public.

But now…

Angela had returned to her embroidery, her attention evidently lost. “The place will be teeming with people, Kathleen. There can be no impropriety in that. People won’t even notice you’re without a chaperone—they’ll assume one of the older ladies seated on a bench is keeping an eye on you.”

Kathleen frowned and looked back down at the note. It was not in Leopold’s hand, something which had been at first a comfort and then a detriment. She had hoped… Well, a part of her had hoped it had been from him. A way to make amends, though what a walk in Hyde Park would fix, she did not know.

But no, the hand was quite unlike his own, and it said almost nothing.

Miss Kathleen Andilet,

Your presence is required in Hyde Park today at two o’clock.

A friend.

A friend? She had no friends—not in London, and certainly not after the chatter about this betting pool at the London Archery Club.

It was a strange note. A curious one. And Kathleen could not abide a mystery.

“I am going to have to go, aren’t I?” she said despondently to her sister, who was humming a sweet tune.

Angela looked up, eyes blinking rapidly. “Wh-What? Oh, yes, of course. You go.”

After that help, which was no help at all, Kathleen had some lunch—leftover pie from the previous evening’s dinner, along with a rare treat, some cool lemonade that Angela had retrieved from a street seller but an hour ago—and then decided what to wear.

That was, decided she had nothing to wear. She tried on every single one of her day gowns, all three of them, and even tried on her only evening gown. She had taken one look at herself in the looking glass, realized she looked ridiculous, and taken it off.

She put on the gown she had started the day with.

“You look nice.” Angela nodded. She was still humming. “I’m glad you’ve decided to go.”

Kathleen rammed a bonnet on her head and stuck at it furiously with three hat pins. “I’ll never be able to live with myself, not knowing.”

The walk to Hyde Park was a strange one. Though she was sure she was imagining it, it certainly felt as though there was a great number of people staring. Watching her.

Did that woman point? Were those two children giggling about her?

Getting hot underneath her stays and wishing to goodness she had been a touch rebellious and gone out without stockings—who would have known?—Kathleen tried to remind herself she was undoubtedly being ridiculous.

The news would have spread, yes. There would be a great deal of people laughing at her, considering her ruined and wondering how on earth she had been so foolish. In a way, she was wondering the same thing about herself.

But surely, there could not be laughter about her in the whole of London? Need everyone notice she was without a chaperone? Was it not Angela who had convinced her people glancing her way would assume one of the older ladies about her had her in their charge?

The trouble was, if Kathleen attempted not to look about her as she bustled down the pavement toward Hyde Park, she was forced to contend with her thoughts, which were just as unpleasant.

Thoughts like: why would he have done it? And was there an explanation, but she had not given him the opportunity to share it? And what would she have done if there had been a genuine explanation?

Had she, in short, lost the best man she had ever known?

The pain of uncertainty prickled and Kathleen swallowed, desperate to push the thoughts from her mind.

“Moping,” she muttered sternly, “will get you nowhere.”

“Are you talking to me?” demanded an imperious voice.

Kathleen halted hurriedly. “N-No, madam, I—”

“For it is very odd to be speaking to yourself at all, let alone in public,” boomed the woman, bedecked in diamonds and a stern expression. “Who are you, pray?”

It was not the most polite method of introduction, but there appeared to be no way of disagreeing with the woman, for Kathleen found herself saying, “Kathleen Andilet. And you are?”

“Lady Romeril,” said the woman with a commanding lift of her chin.

Kathleen swallowed. Oh, goodness . Just one of the most important women in the whole of London. Just one of the women who dictated Society.

Just the sort of person who would not wish to be seen conversing with her.

“I see you have heard of me.” Lady Romeril grinned.

“I… I have, yes.” Well, there was little point in denying it.

“And I have heard of you—at least, I have heard the rumors about a Miss Andilet. Gallivanting with men in the country and being the center of a betting pool here in London,” tutted Lady Romeril. “Often spotted without a chaperone. You have been busy.”

Kathleen smiled weakly. It would be too much to attempt to explain that there were in fact two Miss Andilets who were sharing the scandals. No point in dragging Angela into this mess.

“Though I do believe it is the gentlemen, if I can call them that, who organized the betting pool who should receive my ire,” Lady Romeril boomed across the street, causing many people to turn their heads.

“I do not consider it blameful on a lady to be the butt of a man’s jest, especially if it is so poorly done. ”

Kathleen almost sagged with relief onto her knees. “You… You do not?”

Lady Romeril fixed her with a sharp look that had clearly seen a great number of scandals ripple through Society, and the lady seemed to think very little of them. “Men, my dear, are usually to blame.”

Now that was something Kathleen could agree with.

“But not all of them. There is usually one man attempting to dissuade the others.” Lady Romeril sniffed. “One man worth his salt. One man who wishes to give others a true sporting chance.”

Now her stomach was attempting to launch itself through her mouth. Kathleen swallowed hard as her pulse thundered.

“One man? A… A sporting chance?”

Lady Romeril’s lips tightened as though she knew a secret. She inclined her head and walked away without another word.

Kathleen stared after her. What on earth?

It was a relief to reach Marlborough Gate and enter Hyde Park. Here there were a great number of people parading up and down Rotten Row, intending to see and be seen, and she could easily slip into that crowd and—

A smattering of applause. A swish and thunk, a sound she knew well, and more applause.

Kathleen stared.

It was the London Archery Club.

And yet it wasn’t—it couldn’t have been. She was in the wrong part of London for that, but from what she could see, it was as though the club had been transported.