The Season of Lady Chastity (The Undaunted Debutantes Book 4)

by Christina McKnight

  The ten months between their births could have just as easily been a mere ten minutes.

  They were nearly identical on the outside, yet Chastity sensed they could not be more different on the inside.

  Chapter 5

  There was a festive air about the manor house as Bastian did his best to remain unnoticed when he descended the main stairs and headed for the breakfast room. Though he kept his head down and attempted not to gain undue attention, Bastian was drawn to the sounds of voices coming from deep within the house—a humming and some outright singing of Christmastide hymns he hadn’t heard since his childhood. A small part of him longed to throw himself into the holiday cheer that came so naturally to others, but he remained reserved and kept to himself as he navigated the house. He’d found his mother in good spirits the night before, and her uplifted mood had continued to the morning when he entered her room to find her once again reading. When he asked if she’d eaten, his mother had insisted that she did not want to inconvenience the servants so early.

  It was his mother’s way.

  She never wanted to inconvenience others.

  And so, Bastian had offered to collect a cup of tea and a plate of eggs from the breakfast room for her.

  What he hadn’t anticipated was the large gathering of guests in the foyer and loitering in the halls as they prepared for their horseback riding outing. Servants hurried to and fro, bringing cloaks, hats, gloves, and other necessities to their respective lords and ladies.

  Bastian and his mother had traveled to Oxburgh Hall with only their driver and his valet. Lady Mansfield had requested her maid and lady’s companion stay behind in London. He’d thought it peculiar but saw no positive outcome from questioning the decision. His mother had left their family home for the first time in months.

  Small victories were worth more to Bastian than large arguments.

  Besides, his mother preferred styling her own hair and never had much need for a maid to assist her with dressing.

  Bastian inched through the crowded hall, the open doors to the breakfast room in sight when a hand landed on his shoulder.

  Dread laced through him as he waited for another of Lord Comstock’s taunts.

  “Mansfield,” Montrose said. “You are not attired properly for our outing. Do not tell me you plan to remain at Oxburgh.”

  The tension fled Bastian’s shoulders at Montrose’s friendly greeting, though the duke invited him to spend more time with Comstock and his chaps.

  “I will remain to keep my mother company.” Bastian took in Montrose’s polished Hessians and riding coat and gloves. “I am certain everyone will have a fine time.”

  “Pity. However, I understand—”

  “Manny will stay behind with the women,” a familiar voice said before the group of men departed for the breakfast room, their laughter filling the hall.

  As quickly as the tension had fled, it returned.

  “Mayhap we should put you to work, old chap.” Lord Ruthven, a marquis who’d arrived at Eton the same year as Bastian, was outfitted in sage green breeches with an extravagantly tied cravat and took his place at the head of his small group. “I am in desperate need of a winter cap—for my horse. You do knit, correct, Manny?”

  “I heard he learned the skill after failing Eton.” Ruthven laughed. “His mummy is so proud.”

  “Are we speaking of mummies, Ruthven?” Montrose inquired, his brow raised. “If so, my solicitor asked me to inquire about the size of your allowance. Lady Lucianna and I will have children before long and do need advice on how much a dandy such as you requires for daily expenses.”

  Deep chuckles—and a few female giggles—echoed in the corridor.

  Bastian cleared his throat to hide his own mirth as it would likely only push his old schoolmate further to anger. “I think I best collect my breakfast,” Bastian said to Montrose, doing his best to ignore Ruthven and the others. Though he did incline his head at the duke’s words of support. “I am certain to see you at our evening meal.”

  Bastian lowered his head and pushed past the leering lords toward the breakfast room. Spending his day with his mother labelled him as a mollycoddle to the other lords; however, Bastian could not think of another person whose company he enjoyed as thoroughly as he did hers.

  Except for Chastity

  “Ruthven, Tamblerton, Liddell…enough—”

  Bastian didn’t remain to hear what Montrose said to the lords. Would it injure him if the duke joked with his old friends—his earlier support for Bastian slipping away when Bastian left the room? He’d thought they bonded the evening before during their time in the salon, and Bastian refused to believe that Montrose had invited him to their private evening only because Bastian knew no one else in attendance. He hadn’t much experience to fall back on as invitations had slowed during the mourning period for his father. Bastian wanted to think the best of Montrose, as well as Hawke and Torrington, even though his past had proven that lords were notoriously lacking in such departments.

  The breakfast room was nearly deserted as most of the gathered guests prepared to leave with their host and hostess. What few guests remained were nearly hidden in a sea of Christmastide garland, holly, and ribbons. Only two elderly ladies, one gentleman Bastian hadn’t met, and two women with their backs to him sat at the long table, several servants hurrying between the five guests.

  “Good morn,” Bastian greeted, bowing to the matrons and nodding to the gentleman.

  A servant pulled out a chair for him next to the two younger women, their heads tilted together in discussion as if they hadn’t noticed his arrival.

  As Bastian sat, one of the women stood, straightened her riding habit, and looked toward Bastian.

  “Lord Mansfield,” Lady Prudence said by way of greeting, although there was nothing warm or inviting in her tone. “Enjoy your repast.”

  He’d barely noted the two women’s similar appearances the previous night, although the hall hadn’t been lit properly.

  “Good morning, Lady Prudence.” Bastian paused, waiting for Chastity to turn in his direction. When she continued to face away from him, staring up at her sister, Bastian wondered if he’d interrupted an important conversation. “Lovely to see you both this morning.”

  Lady Prudence was dressed for the group outing, while Chastity wore a simple cotton gown in no way practical for an outdoor venture.

  “Are you certain you wish to remain?”

  Chastity’s shoulders stiffened at her sister’s harsh question. “Yes. Do give my regrets to Luci for missing the ride.”

  “I only agreed to go because you were looking forward to it.”

  “And I find I am in need of additional rest.” She held up a book Bastian hadn’t noticed by her plate. “I am going to read for a while and shall await your return.”

  Prudence narrowed her glare on Bastian as a plate piled high with eggs, pheasant, and cheese was set before him. He had interrupted their conversation.

  “Very well,” Prudence snapped. “Though it is not my responsibility to explain to Luci why you aren’t joining us.”

  With that said, Lady Prudence stomped from the room, her half boots striking the floor with resounding thumps Bastian hadn’t known a woman could muster.

  The woman had barely exited the breakfast room when Chastity let out a soft giggle.

  “Pru isn’t fond of horses, although my father—and my brother—have insisted we not shelter ourselves indoors for the duration of our stay.” Chastity spiked a piece of cheese and popped it into her mouth. “You should eat before it grows cold.”

  Bastian hid his smile, picking up his fork and taking a bite of egg. “Why ever would she agree to go horseback riding if she dislikes horses ever so much?”

  Chastity finally turned toward him. “Because she is always one to keep her word. And despite how dour she appears, I am certain she’ll enjoy some time away from the manor.” She paused and took a sip of tea. “And, I must admit, I too will enjoy a bit o
f time alone.” She sighed, nibbling at her bottom lip. “Not that I do not greatly love my sister…”

  “I would never even consider the possibility,” he offered. “Though you appeared excited for the outing when last we spoke.”

  “Sometimes, things change.”

  Bastian could not find a suitable response. In his estimation, things did not change. The men from his past hadn’t changed. His home life, even after his father’s passing, hadn’t changed. What could have changed since the previous night when she’d been so looking forward to the outing?

  Belatedly, Bastian remembered the letter she’d intently clutched by the moat. The one she’d quickly hidden away.

  She’d admitted that it was a love letter, of sorts.

  Had she remained at Oxburgh Hall with the intention of meeting with the note’s author?

  His chest flared with red-hot pain at the implication of his thought.

  Lady Chastity had forgone the outing to meet with a man.

  But whom?

  Montrose and Hawke had been ready and waiting to depart. Torrington was her brother, and she’d need no privacy to speak with him. Comstock, Ruthven, Tamblerton, and Liddell were in the foyer, but Bastian had concentrated only on making his way to the breakfast room, not taking stock of whether the men had been attired for the outdoors.

  Chastity, fawning over a letter written by Comstock, was unimaginable.

  The lord was a cad, a scoundrel, and a ruffian. His cronies weren’t much better.

  Bastian could not, would not, allow the image of Lady Chastity alone in Comstock’s presence to dampen his mood.

  “My lord, if your frown increases any more, I fear you’ll be unable to smile again.” Chastity’s teasing words were in no way meant to be malicious or insulting. “If I’d known my change in plans would cause your mood to wane so, I wouldn’t have remained.”

  “It is not that, Lady Chastity.” He spoke the words softly as the other guests stood to depart, their meals finished.

  “What can it be then?” she prodded.

  Admitting that the thought of her remaining at Oxburgh Hall for a private meeting with another man sent jealousy coursing through him was out of the question. That Chastity had been the first person he’d spoken to since arriving at Montrose’s country manor was also something better left unsaid.

  “Is it Lady Mansfield?” Concern etched her face.

  The mention of his mother had Bastian cringing. Did Chastity think him a weakling for his attachment to his mother? If her suitor were Comstock or one of his companions, then they may have spoken of Bastian with her, even jested about him.

  “Bastian?” she asked when he didn’t respond.

  The sincerity in her tone spoke volumes. She was not making light of him or his family situation. Chastity genuinely cared.

  “My mother is well, thank you for your concern.”

  Silence fell between them as a servant collected Chastity’s empty plate.

  Bastian refused to lie about his change in mood and, therefore, could not answer her question. It mattered little because she was certain to depart quickly with her meal completed. Chastity did not appear the type to keep someone waiting when they were expecting her company.

  He searched his thoughts, trying to retrieve an excuse or topic of conversation that would keep her next to him for a few more minutes.

  Bloody hell.

  His many years spent in the company of only his mother and ailing father had never been more apparent than in that moment.

  A beautiful, witty, enchanting woman sat at his side, and he was too much of a simpleton to think of a single comment to entice her to stay.

  Chastity lingered in her seat long after the servant had removed her empty plate. She should use her time alone wisely and seek out Lady Camden to ask after her and Prudence’s mother…and her acquaintance with Lord Camden. Remaining for a few minutes in Bastian’s company was enticing.

  Was it because Lord Mansfield was not only handsome but also approachable?

  Or was it more because Chastity hadn’t any notion of how to broach the subject of Lord Camden with his wife. The pair had already been wed with children by the time Chastity was born, which meant that Camden, as well as Chastity and Prudence’s mother, had both betrayed their spouses if Lord Camden was her mother’s lover. Did Lady Camden know of her husband’s infidelity?

  Chastity would never divulge such a thing to Luci’s mother…on the cusp of her daughter’s marriage to Montrose especially.

  Though she knew no other way to find out if Lord Camden was her mother’s dearest Cam.

  Perhaps she should seek Prudence’s help.

  No, her sister would only demand that Chastity forget the letter altogether and never mention it again.

  “Now it appears your joviality has soured, my lady.”

  Chastity glanced sideways at Bastian. It was the way she’d come to look at him—truly take him in—without garnering undue notice. “May I speak on a delicate matter with you?”

  The color drained from his face, leaving his skin ashen with a tinge of green. Did he think she was to ask him about his pensive mood by the moat again? Obviously, confiding in Bastian was not something he wanted, and Chastity changed her mind. They were little more than strangers, after all. A few brief moments together, and a rousing game of charades was not enough to make them anything more than what they were.

  Two strangers who happened to be attending the same country wedding party.

  As it were, it did not matter because another guest bustled into the breakfast room at that moment, the swooshing of the woman’s skirts breaking whatever spell had kept Chastity and Bastian in their seats and focused on one another.

  “Good day,” the newly arrived guest called as she glided toward the long table, selecting a place directly across from Chastity, though she shook her head when a servant stepped forward to pull out the seat. She was oddly familiar with her willowy height, raven hair, and porcelain skin—not to mention her regal air of confidence. Chastity could not place the woman, though, as if her looks should register as someone Chastity was acquainted with, but something was different. “No breakfast, Elliott, but thank you.” She gave the servant a broad smile before addressing Chastity and Bastian. “Lady Camden, Lucianna’s mother. I do apologize for not staying long, I have much to do in the next few days, namely transforming my dear Roderick’s home into a Christmastide wonderland. Are you family or friends of the duke?”

  Lady Camden stared between the pair, and Chastity swallowed nervously. It was as if her previous thoughts had conjured the lady from thin air. Though her demeanor was joyful and robust, the creases around the woman’s mouth and the exhaustion in her eyes was unmistakable. Chastity had spied Lady Camden—Eloise—across many ballrooms, doing her best to simultaneously ignore her husband and keep watch on Luci.

  Bastian stood, bowing deeply to Lady Camden. “I am Lord Mansfield. My mother, Isabella Stanhope, was a close friend of Montrose’s mother. I attended Eton with the duke, but he was older than I, and we were not of the same token as it were. If you are in need of any help, I am ready and able to lend a hand, my lady.”

  “That is very kind of you, my lord. However, do you not have other…gentlemanly pursuits to embark upon while in residence?”

  “My presence at Oxburgh Hall is to assist my mother,” Bastian said.

  It was a harmless question, not meant to wound the earl in any fashion, yet Bastian’s shoulders sagged slightly, and he turned his focus to the empty table. Chastity could not bear his dejected stare.

  “Very well, my lord.” Lady Camden seemed contrite for any slight she may have caused. “I am happy to know you are about. It is not often a fine gentleman is willing to take such care of his mother in lieu of his own…proclivities.”

  “Lady Camden,” Chastity said, taking the attention off Bastian. “I am Lady Chastity, Edith’s sister-in-law, and Triston’s youngest sister.”

  “Oh, my dear!” Lady Cam
den leaned precariously over the small table and set her open palms against each of Chastity’s cheeks, cradling her face. “My sincerest apologies for not recognizing you. When I entered, I assumed the pair of you were, well, for lack of a better term, together. You appeared to know one another.”

  “We met yesterday by the moat.” Chastity kept her stare on Lady Camden, an unassuming smile upon her face. Could the woman read Chastity’s attraction for Bastian, or only their quickly budding friendship? Her skin heated at the thought. “And we joined Luci and Roderick for games in the parlor last evening.”

  Chapman entered the breakfast room, giving Chastity the opportunity to take in Bastian’s reaction to Lady Camden’s words as both women stood. He seemed unbothered by the lady’s mistake, neither alarmed nor embarrassed.

  “My lady,” Chapman said from the doorway. “The room is set up for your use. I will have a maid bring refreshments to you.”

  Lady Camden glanced about, confusion etched on her face as if she’d forgotten where she was and what she’d been doing.

  “You requested tea and a light repast while you work,” Chapman continued. “Cook is honored to prepare something special for you, my lady.”

  “Heavens, my dear.” She shook her head with a light laugh. “I fear I would lose track of my head if it weren’t attached. This entire affair has me bustling about as if Queen Charlotte herself were arriving at any moment.”

  “I cannot fathom all that occupies your time.” Perhaps the day was not right to speak with Lady Camden about her husband’s past. Or was the time exactly correct, and Luci’s mother would share more insight than she otherwise would if her mind were solely in the right place? Either way, Chastity might not gain another chance to speak with Lady Camden in private before the wedding was over and done and the guests were departing.

  Again, the day was not right, but when would the time be appropriate to ask such probing questions? There may never come another occasion when Chastity would be in the same home as Luci’s mother—and the questions Chastity needed answered were certainly not suitable to convey by a letter.