“Loosen your grip,” Luci shouted as she and Ophelia moved in beside her. “Give the beast her head.”
With the moat flanking Chastity on one side and Luci on the other, the last thing Chastity wanted to do was “give the beast her head.”
Chastity secured one ankle tightly as her other leg flopped uselessly at the beast’s side, pushing the mare ever closer to the moat.
Her heart beat so loudly, Chastity feared her horse could not only sense her fear but also smell it and hear it.
The cold winter morning air whipped at her face, but thankfully, her hat stayed pinned in place. The moat curved as it reached the far end of the garden, where she and Bastian had met, and Chastity could spy the walking group making their way down the path.
She might have no notion what she was doing atop a horse, but Chastity would rather perish than allow Bastian to see her ineptitude in the saddle. Chastity straightened her back and tucked her leg close to the horse, but doing so caused her hand to tug on the reins, and the mare to shake her head from side to side. Foam flung in every direction, and the movement sent Chastity leaning.
Serenity suddenly turned sharply toward the moat and planted her feet, coming to a skidding halt.
Relief flooded Chastity for only a brief moment before she realized she no longer sat in the saddle—though she maintained a tight grip on the reins.
Her body flung sideways, and the reins snapped from her hold. She splashed into the moat, sending cold waves of water over her head as she broke through the thin layer of ice.
Ironically, Chastity noted as she rolled to a sitting position, that the water was only five or so inches deep…though she wished she’d gone under and not resurfaced as shouts sounded around her.
She brushed at her eyes, pushing not only the murky moat water away but also her hat, which had not withstood the summersault and her subsequent awkward landing. Her mare stood above her on the bank, eyeing her as if Chastity had done something wrong—while the beast’s only job was to keep her rider safe. Blessedly, Chastity’s scream had been masked by the retreating hooves of the hunting party as they continued away from Chastity’s moment of disgrace.
“Oh, shoo, you disloyal beast.” Chastity swatted at the water, sending a spray up toward Serenity, who—smart mare—backed away before the icy water could reach her. Chastity’s bum lowered as the mud at the bottom of the moat attempted to pull her tighter into its grasp.
“I am coming, Lady Chastity.”
Of course, Bastian had witnessed her being thrown into the moat. Of course, it would be Lord Mansfield who climbed down into the frigid, iced-over water to rescue her. Of course, Prudence and Lady Mansfield were likely watching from the bank above, much like her fickle mare.
Bastian splashed into the water behind her—reaching her with a swiftness she hadn’t thought possible.
“Chastity,” he whispered close to her ear. “I wish you’d voiced your intent to be thrown into the moat. I would have worn my traveling pants and coat.”
She wanted to laugh at the same time she longed to cry as memories of her first words to him returned: “Are you going to throw yourself in? Because I must warn you, I will not muddy my gown to save you, nor risk my health jumping into the freezing water.
Yet, here Bastian was, slipping his arms beneath her and hoisting her from the moat, his fine walking trousers, white linen shirt, jacket, and cravat utterly ruined, turned brown and sodden from the water.
“I assure you, my lord, I did not set out on the hunt with the sole purpose of landing in the moat,” she scoffed.
Bastian waded around her where she stood, soaked and dripping, eyeing her from head to toe. “Are you injured?”
“Only my pride,” she muttered, rubbing her gloved hands down the front of her skirts as if she could remove the offending muck so easily.
“Allow me to assist you to the bank.” He took her arm and slung it around his shoulders before slipping his hand behind her knees. Before Chastity realized his intent, Bastian was cradling her against his chest as he climbed up to the bank. “We shall have you dry and dressed in no time.”
Chastity’s teeth began to chatter, and her body shook violently as the cold seeped through her clothes, resulting in Bastian tightening his hold. She turned her face into his damp jacket to hide from the onlookers most certainly surrounding the moat to gawk at her.
“My dear girl,” Lady Mansfield called. “Bastian, my heavens, don’t drop her.”
Prudence’s high-pitched laughter rang across the open area. While Chastity was happy to hear her sister’s genuine laugh, she was not pleased to be at the center of the commotion.
“The wee lass might catch ‘er death.” From the accent, Chastity was certain it was Ophelia’s grandmother who spoke. “Haven’t we a doc hereabouts?”
Chastity pulled her head from Bastian’s shoulder long enough to spy a stately, tall gentleman. He was one of the men she’d seen departing with the walking party, though now she noticed that he held a black satchel—a physician’s bag.
“Chastity!” Glancing over Bastian’s shoulder, Chastity saw Luci, Edith, and Ophelia staring at her from across the moat. “Are you hurt?”
“I do not believe she is injured, only startled,” Bastian answered, his breathing unlabored despite her weight. Chastity was happy for his reply. As the cold set in further, she didn’t trust her voice not to wobble if she spoke. “I have her, Lady Lucianna.”
Yes, Bastian, Lord Mansfield, most definitely had her.
More specifically, he had her thinking about their first meeting. He had her thinking about the press of his lips against hers, warm despite the chilled night. He had her thinking about the solid expanse of muscle hidden under his white linen shirt—and what it would feel like to slip her wet, gloved hand under his jacket.
Her embarrassment flared once more, overriding her longings, when he reached the upper bank and glanced down at her upturned face.
His eyes held only concern and worry. “I am going to set you down now.” He paused, and she swore a hint of desire darkened his eyes. “Let me know if anything hurts.”
Chapter 12
Bastian held Chastity firmly against him, knowing the time to return her to her own feet had come and gone long ago. With each inhale and exhale, their chests moved in unison; her breathing labored after the fright from her fall, and his from the sight of her being thrown into the air, feet over head before landing in the moat. But his breathing did not even out once he held her in his arms. No, it only increased with the press of her body against his, just her damp, clinging habit separating them.
And his ruined shirt, of course.
It was an attraction—a draw—he’d never felt before. It was about more than soothing Chastity’s fright. It surpassed his duty as a man to rescue her from danger. And it would last far longer than this moment. His worry and need to care for her would not diminish once she was safely returned to the hall and pronounced uninjured.
“I can have a look, my lord.” Doc Durpentire stepped forward, setting his bag on the ground as he waited for Bastian to release her. He’d only met the doctor who’d been called to reside at Oxburgh Hall for the duration of his mother’s stay that very morning when he’d been summoned to accompany them on their walk. Bastian hadn’t argued or turned down the physician’s offer before, but now, he wanted no other man—physician or not, young or old, titled or gentry—to set a hand on Chastity.
“I can look after her.” Bastian took a calming breath before speaking again, careful not to growl at the doctor. “I mean, I have cared for my mother as of late. I am more than qualified to tend to Lady Chastity.”
“I am certain I can stand, Lord Mansfield.” Chastity set her palm against his chest, and even through the layers of material, he could feel her cold skin. “I’m only a bit shaken—and cold.”
To emphasize her point, her body trembled.
With gentle ease, he lowered her feet to the ground but kept his arm wrapped
around her back.
“How is she?” Ophelia shouted over the moat.
“Does anything hurt, my lady?” Doc Durpentire asked, moving closer with Bastian’s mother and Lady Hawke’s grandmother following closely behind.
“No, no.” Chastity shook her head, stepping away from the doctor and closer to Bastian, igniting once more his protective need where she was concerned. “I think I shall be fine.”
“Are you certain?” Lady Torrington leaned in her sidesaddle to gain a better view. “Mayhap we should call a groom to collect our horses.”
“Do not be silly.” Chastity smiled, and Bastian coughed to hide his chuckle. Her hat hung limply from her hair, held by only a single pin, yet even in such a bedraggled state, she was the most captivating woman he’d ever laid eyes upon. “Go on about the hunt. Lord Mansfield will see me back to the manor.”
The declaration surprised him; however, the resounding huff from Lady Prudence did not.
The opportunity to see Lady Chastity back to the hall, giving them a few scant moments alone, would be…
Bastian swallowed, hoping to suppress his roguish urges. Only a moment before, Chastity had stepped away from the doctor and pressed herself toward Bastian.
“Nothing hurts besides a small ache in my backside where I landed.” She spoke to the doctor and her sister now. “You should all continue on your walk. Lord Mansfield, can I trouble you to assist me back to Oxburgh Hall?”
“I will come—”
“No, Pru, enjoy your stroll,” Chastity cut her sister off, further angering the other woman if Lady Prudence’s pinched expression was any indication. “I will bathe, dress, and await your return.”
“Doctor Durpentire and I will accompany you, Bastian.”
His mother had recovered far quicker than usual, and he’d been nervous about allowing her on the walk with the other guests. Her cheeks were flushed from the activity and excitement. However, he would not feel comfortable leaving her when he returned to the manor with Chastity.
“Very well,” Bastian nodded his agreement. “Lady Prudence, I and Doc Durpentire will see your sister safely to her room.”
Chastity’s sister, ever watchful, held Bastian’s stare for a moment longer than necessary. He understood she was trying to intimidate him—and it was working admirably. One would think Torrington with his massive build would be the more frightening of Chastity’s siblings; however, Lady Prudence’s glare held a steely edge that he would not challenge.
“Pru, go on.” Chastity didn’t wait for her sister’s reply before turning toward the path that led to the manor.
Bastian fell into step beside her, noting that she favored one foot more than the other.
The doctor took his mother’s arm and moved ahead of him down the route toward the main house. Bastian stalled his steps and fell farther behind the older couple. Any other day, he would have stepped in and taken over; he was his mother’s caregiver, after all. However, Chastity also needed him, and Doctor Durpentire was more than capable of seeing to Bastian’s mother.
And the way Lady Mansfield glanced up at the doctor, a shy grin lifting her lips, Bastian supposed his mother could care for herself for a brief while.
As they started toward the manor, he and Chastity lingered, their pace slow. It gave Bastian the opportunity to hold her a bit closer than propriety dictated; however, the intimate closeness would be easily enough explained if anyone asked.
“Thank you for assisting me, Bastian.” A slight shiver moved through her, and he halted, bringing her to a stop beside him.
“I am certain I did no more than any gentleman would have done in such a situation.” Was he honestly making excuses for his chivalrous actions? Bloody hell, no man but Bastian should have rescued Chastity. In some way, ever since discovering her sitting by the moat on the day he arrived at Oxburgh Hall, he’d come to think of himself as responsible for her. Not that she needed someone to oversee her…no, that wasn’t it at all.
“If you say so.” Despite her disheveled state, she smiled up at him. “Though, I cannot say I agree.”
He wanted to ask what man had disappointed her in the past. Instead, he settled on a less probing inquiry. “Has your father arrived for the wedding yet?”
“No.” A cloud of some emotion passed over her brown gaze, and she looked away from him. “Though he said he would arrive at some point.”
“I suppose it is a good thing that Torrington is here with you and Lady Prudence.”
“This is true. My brother has become an adequate chaperone of late.”
The melancholy in her tone had Bastian wondering what she wasn’t sharing with him. “Though it would be to your liking to have your father present?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes, I think yes. Other times, no.”
With that statement, she slipped her arm through his, and they started down the path once more. Up ahead, his mother and the doctor had reached the terrace.
“Family relationships are peculiar and complicated, I fear.” Bastian hoped to draw more information about her life from her. Bastian’s family situation could not have been laid out any clearer for Chastity as when she happened upon his mother during her attack. Bastian knew surprisingly little about Chastity’s family, besides her brother’s daunting figure and the man’s hopes for his sisters—and Lady Prudence’s obvious distaste for Bastian. “Has your father always been absent?”
A sad smile pulled at her lips, and Bastian suspected that she was far away somewhere in her mind.
“Absent?” she said as if testing the word. “I have heard there was a time he was wholly dedicated to Prudence and me; however, he has found every excuse to distance himself from us from the time we could walk. When I was young, I believed he cast some of the blame for our mother’s death on me—and Pru. Though, as the years passed, I came to understand that it was his way. Even before he met my mother. Lord Downshire had a fondness for marriage—for love, mayhap.”
She spoke her father’s name as if he were little more than an acquaintance. And one she did not know well.
“First, it was Triston’s mother. Then mine and Pru’s mother. And now, Esmee—his current wife.”
“Will your stepmother be accompanying him to the wedding?” Bastian noticed their pace had slowed nearly to a halt again, the terrace only a handful of steps away.
Chastity snorted. “Heavens, no.”
The words had no more left her lips than her teeth chattered.
“Come,” Bastian commanded, his severe tone borne of concern. “I shall not forgive myself if you take ill because I did not return you to your chambers quickly enough.”
In truth, if Chastity weren’t saturated with moat water, he would have lingered below the terrace for hours, learning everything there was to know about her.
They made their way up to the terrace and were met at the door by Chapman, a blanket over the butler’s arm. Bastian took the throw and wrapped it around Chastity, his fingers lingering at her shoulders, hoping the thick wool would be enough to banish the cold from her tumble into the water—at least until she could bathe and rid herself of her soaked clothing.
“My lady,” Chapman gushed. “Gus in the stables caught your mount and sent me to find you. This way…this way.” The servant ushered them through the house, making certain Chastity did not drip on the rugs covering the polished floors.
When they reached the stairs, Doc Durpentire and his mother paused, lingering on the main floor.
“Go on,” his mother waved to Bastian. “Clarence and I are going to the salon for tea.”
Bastian paused. Clarence? Who in the hell was Clarence?
“Hurry along, son.” His mother glanced up the stairs, and Bastian realized that Chastity hadn’t stopped to wait for him, she had continued up.
Any other day, possibly even an hour before, Bastian would have remained frozen, unsure what to do as his mother walked down the hall, arm-in-arm with Clarence, while Chastity climbed the stairs. Yet, he wasn�
�t torn between seeing after his mother or making certain Chastity arrived at her room and had everything she needed. His mother was safeguarded with the doctor, and he longed to be with Chastity. He felt as if it were where he should be.
She’d nearly reached the top landing when Bastian hurried after her.
In any other instance, the view would be comical: Chastity—witty and poised—clutching her skirts, heavy with moat water, her hair hanging tangled down her back, and her hat bouncing at her shoulder as she limped up the final step. However, the rare beauty and undeniable strength of the woman was all Bastian noted. Even in a time of utter chaos, she managed to keep her chin high and her confidence intact.
She halted at the landing, turning to Bastian as he took the final step to stand beside her. The water from her clothing had soaked through the blanket around her shoulders, and he had to stop himself from pulling her to him in an attempt to warm her.
“I lied, my ankle is a bit tender,” she admitted.
Bastian wrapped his arm around her waist, no concern for who witnessed the intimate contact. They fell into a slow walk as he assisted her down the final corridor, past his mother’s private chamber, and to her room a few doors down. “Thank you for pulling me from the moat.”
“If it had been me, you would have jumped to my rescue.” Despite what she’d claimed when they first met.
She smiled up at him, and he suspected they were thinking the same thing. “Perhaps,” she shrugged.
“Can I have a bath brought up for you?” Bastian lingered on the word bath, as his mind conjured images he had no right to picture. The chill from the water had to have soaked clear through to her bones. The walk back hadn’t been overly long, but the weather had turned overnight, a winter storm on the horizon. “A long soak in hot water will ward off the chill.”
His steps faltered when his mind swung to images of helping Chastity into the bathing tub—and remaining close to provide her with company…and make certain the chill didn’t set in.
The Season of Lady Chastity (The Undaunted Debutantes Book 4) Page 13