And now, she’d witnessed it firsthand.
Chastity could not turn around and wipe the image of Lady Mansfield cowering in her son’s arms, wailing as if she’d only just now suffered the greatest tragedy, from her mind.
She hurried to Bastian’s side, ignoring his concerned question, and dropped to her knees.
Pain like this, so raw and uncensored, was never shown in her home.
Emotion of any kind was suppressed and ignored, having no place in the Downshire household.
Pru and Chastity had been raised to not think of their lost mother. Triston was the same.
“How can I help?” she whispered.
She’d stood for only a brief moment, frozen as she witnessed Lady Mansfield’s immense grief pour from her as if a dam had broken. All while Bastian tried, in his own way, to staunch the flow.
It was Lady Mansfield who pulled away from her son long enough to meet Chastity’s eyes.
“You are real?” the older woman mumbled, her stare narrowing on Chastity as if she recognized her. “You are not my Duncan, but you are real.”
“I am, my lady.” Chastity set her hand on the woman’s shoulder as further proof. “I am Lady Chastity, Lord Mansfield and I met yesterday. By the moat, as it were. It is an interesting story I would be glad to share.”
The tension in Lady Mansfield’s tiny body began to ease as Chastity adjusted to sit on the floor beside Bastian and his mother. She knew she was intruding on a private moment, and it was clear she was not needed—and likely not wanted. She suspected this was a part of Bastian’s life that he worked tirelessly to keep from others.
Even with all that, Chastity hadn’t the heart to walk away and forget any of it.
Her heart hadn’t only broken for Lady Mansfield and everything she’d suffered as a result of the loss of her husband. Chastity was crestfallen at Bastian’s helplessness, as well. Saddened that it fell to him, solely and completely, to care for his mother. It wasn’t as Comstock and his companions teased. Bastian wasn’t connected and beholden to his mother out of his own needs but out of her dependence on him. If Bastian hadn’t left school and remained by his mother’s side, where would she be now?
His noble, self-sacrificing action was too much for Chastity to fathom.
He’d given up his education, his own experiences, and kept his life on hold all to make certain his mother’s life remained within her grasp.
“I think I would like that, my dear,” Lady Mansfield said, using the last of her strength. “But first, I think I need rest.”
“Of course, Mama.” Bastian easily got to his feet, never letting his grip on Lady Mansfield weaken as he moved toward the bed. The covers had been pulled from it.
Pushing to her feet, Chastity quickly gathered the discarded bedding as a maid appeared in the open doorway.
“Would you be so kind as to fetch tea for my mother?” Bastian called to the servant. “Something with roseroot.”
“No, valerian root will better serve.” Chastity trailed Bastian to the bed, where he settled his mother and retrieved the blankets from Chastity to tuck around the aging woman who lay, spent and frail, in the oversized bed. “It will help to calm and bring about sleep.”
Chastity did not fail to notice the maid remained in the doorway, focused on Bastian for direction.
“Yes, tea with valerian root will do fine.” At Bastian’s decision, the maid nodded and departed.
He lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, smoothing the blankets around his mother where she reclined against the gathered pillows.
After asking what Chastity was doing there, he hadn’t said another word to her, and it was understandable that Bastian would be angry at her unwarranted intrusion.
“Are you better?” He cupped Lady Mansfield’s face in his hands. “Do you want me to call for the physician?”
“No, that is not necessary, Bastian.” Lady Mansfield pulled from her son’s hold and glanced down at her hands. “I am sorry for causing such a commotion. You should return downstairs. Both of you. I will await my tea and sleep.”
“Mother, never think—”
“I said go, Bastian.”
Chastity recoiled at the force of Lady Mansfield’s tone. She knew she should make an excuse and leave them to speak privately.
But leaving him alone was not within Chastity’s power at present.
Despite all she’d been through in her life, she’d never had to face it alone. Her sister was always near, even when their father and brother were absent. Yet, Bastian had no one.
The memory of the forlorn man perched at the edge of the Oxburgh moat returned. Chastity had made a jest of his troubles then, but she wouldn’t now. Not after gaining a tiny glimpse of his life.
Montrose’s guests were wrong to think that Bastian’s dedication to his mother was borne of weakness. It was actually a steely determination and strength most lacked so implicitly they could not even identify it in another.
Chastity knew the courage it took to stand strong. She’d witnessed it in her brother when he’d had to go against their father to save himself from Esmee. Chastity had seen it again when Lady Luci had declined to wed Abercorn, the lord her father had demanded she marry. Even Lady Ophelia, before she’d become Lady Hawke and wed Colin, had proven her mettle by exposing a murderer.
Chastity hoped she would be as capable and unyielding as Triston, Luci, and Ophelia.
“What happened?” Bastian’s shoulders slumped. “You were better.”
Lady Mansfield glanced around the room as if seeing the disheveled chamber for the first time. “I—I—I decided to go downstairs and join the women. Lady Camden said they were to string holly this evening and prepare gifts for the townsfolk. I thought to help…but-but—”
“It is all right, Mama,” Bastian interrupted. “Sleep now. We can speak on the morrow.”
“I opened my trunk to find a suitable gown and your father’s comb… What in heavens was it doing in my traveling trunk?” Her eyes went wide, fright tensing her shoulders as her knuckles turned white from her grip on the blanket. “I picked it up, but it fell to the floor. I must have fallen with it.”
Chastity could not comprehend the sight of a comb sending someone into such a panic.
“I am fine now.”
“You are not fine,” Bastian retorted firmly, yet his tone softened with his next words. “I will have our things readied, and we will return home tomorrow. This was all too much, too soon. I know that now.”
Lady Mansfield frowned. “We will do no such thing. It is rude, and I will not have it.”
“But what if another attack comes, and I am not close, or you are not safely in your room?”
Chastity’s heart seized at the agony of Bastian’s question.
“I cannot expect you to continue caring for me.” Lady Mansfield lifted her chin, the sight of her tousled hair against her white shift was a startling contrast, though a rosy hue had returned to her cheeks. “I am a grown woman.”
“Mother, I—”
The creak of the maid’s boots on the floorboards signaled that the valerian tea had arrived. It was long past time for Chastity to leave.
“I should go.” Little more than a whisper, Chastity was surprised when Lady Mansfield focused on her, staring past her son.
“Lady Chastity, is it?” she asked. When Chastity nodded, the older woman continued. “Thank you for your assistance. Do take my son and return to the festivities below.”
“Mama, there is no need for someone to look after me.”
A weak smile pulled at Bastian’s mother’s lips. “Perhaps it is time…”
Bastian threw a glance over his shoulder, meeting Chastity’s gaze for a split second before turning back to his mother. “Rest, you need sleep. We can discuss our departure tomorrow.”
“Very well.” Lady Mansfield accepted the tea the maid offered. “If you will bring my book close, I shall bid you goodnight. Please escort Lady Chastity below.”
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br /> “I have no intention of leaving and returning to the party, Mama.” He paused, facing Chastity once more. “However, I wish a word with Lady Chastity before she seeks out the other guests.”
Chastity nodded. “Good evening, Lady Mansfield. I hope to see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, dear.”
It was as if nothing she’d witnessed only moments before had transpired.
Lady Mansfield sipped at her tea before accepting her book from Bastian and nestling in on her side on the bed.
“I will wait in the hall,” Chastity said.
The maid turned to depart as well, and Chastity followed the servant into the hall, pleased to see that Bastian’s mother’s sobbing hadn’t brought any other guests closer to investigate.
Bits and pieces of Bastian’s whispered pleas for his mother to rest and consider leaving for London the next day drifted to Chastity in the corridor.
She did not want Bastian and his mother to leave Oxburgh Hall. Not yet, at least. She’d been so preoccupied with the mystery surrounding her mother’s dearest Cam she hadn’t found the time to explore the unexplainable draw between her and Bastian.
Walking down the hall, she pivoted and moved back toward Lady Mansfield’s open chamber door. She did not want Bastian to think she eavesdropped on their private conversation, despite her entering the room without invitation earlier.
He hurried from the room, looking left and swinging his gaze to the right where she stood.
“Lord Mansfield.” She took a step toward him. “I had no intention of overstepping propriety. Your mother…I thought I could help.”
If she could convince Bastian she meant no harm, that she truly believed she could help, perhaps he’d remain.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and exhaled. Not in disappointment or disapproval but in relief. His gaze met hers, and for the first time in a long while Chastity felt as if she’d done something right—that she’d managed to stave off disappointing another.
His lips pressed into a grim line as he appeared to collect his thoughts.
“Bastian, I—”
He shook his head, halting another apology. “I am grateful for your help.”
“You are?” The relief she saw in his eyes coursed through her.
“I am,” he conceded.
“What happened?” Chastity wanted to take the question back the second it passed her lips. Details about Lady Mansfield and her affliction was not Chastity’s business. “Again, I apologize. I do not mean to intrude.”
Bastian turned away from her, and Chastity feared he would return to his mother’s chambers without another word, but after several paces, he pivoted back toward her. “My mother has been burdened with these—attacks—of confusion and disorientation since my father’s passing. I thought—misguidedly it seems—that she was improving. That coming to Oxburgh Hall would help her. I am a fool.” He ran his fingers through his hair, the locks becoming as wayward and wild as his mother’s.
“You are not a fool, Bastian.”
He turned a hard look on her, and Chastity suppressed the urge to recoil. “You do not know me well enough to make such a claim, my lady.”
His words stung far worse than his crushing stare. Despite their short acquaintance, Chastity believed she knew something of the man—far more than she knew of anyone else in residence but her sister anyway.
“You should return downstairs before your absence is noticed,” he said, waving her off.
“It would appear you know little of me, as well,” Chastity retorted. “I care nothing of the opinions of others.”
“You should, for your own sake and future.”
Chastity laughed, a sorrowful, injured chuckle. “As you do, my lord? You allow Comstock, Ruthven, and their counterparts to tease you mercifully, yet speak nothing of why you remain ever close to your mother.”
“My mother, and our hardships, is no one’s business.” He glanced at the rug under his boots. “I will never open my mother to ridicule and cruel jests for my own gain. Those men can make light of me all they want, but I will not betray my mother.”
“I understand that.” And she did. It was the reason she kept her mother’s secret. Her own secret, if she were being honest. Chastity would never be the reason her mother’s memory was tarnished or her propriety called into question, even if to fulfill Chastity’s own needs.
“Do you?” His hands dropped from his pockets and hung open at his sides as the fight seemed to drain from him. “Because, sometimes, I do not understand why I continue as I do. How I make it through each day without giving up hope for a brighter tomorrow.”
Never had she engaged in such an open and honest conversation—about anything.
She and Prudence had always been of a like mind and, therefore, extended conversations had never been necessary. Triston was so much older than his sisters that he continued to treat them as children even after they’d joined society. And their father, he’d fallen into the habit of forgetting their existence altogether at times.
But Bastian…Bastian was staring directly at her, begging her to explain how she could understand such a deep-seated sorrow, the need to protect a loved one, and the all-encompassing, crushing weight of the task.
Surprisingly, Chastity wanted to tell him how she went on, where she found her strength.
“I cannot understand your position implicitly; however, my family is not without our flaws and shortcomings.” They weren’t the correct words at all. Bastian had no shortcomings or flaws that Chastity had witnessed. “What I mean to say is that every family has those they feel the need to protect—at any cost. Do not think you are the only one.”
Chastity tore her stare from him before she said too much. She may have witnessed his family’s secret, but she could not share her own. She mustn’t speak of her mother’s possible infidelity—and how Chastity could now, even in this moment, be masquerading as a proper lady. The consequences would not only fall on Chastity and change the legacy of their mother but also condemn Prudence to a life marred by sordid tales of the past.
“How did you know about the valerian root?” he asked.
“My father’s wife has been known to use it to calm herself.” Chastity wrapped her arms around her middle as a draft blew down the hall, ruffling her hair. “She keeps it close, even travels with it.”
“I am grateful for your knowledge,” he admitted. “Our family physician was quick to give my mother laudanum to ease her attacks, but it was days before my mother returned to normal afterwards. I would rather sit with her all night than allow a tonic to take her from me for days at a time—and ravish her body until she is so gaunt she can barely walk.”
“I cannot disagree with you.” Whatever tension had flared between them earlier dissipated as if it had never been, leaving only the two of them.
As they’d met by the moat.
Bastian, lost in his own thoughts, although she understood his forlornness now in a way she hadn’t the previous day.
And she wanted to know more if only to distract her from her own troubles.
“Are you truly leaving tomorrow?” she asked.
She wouldn’t plead for him to stay, not at risk to his mother’s health. She had no right to request he remain.
“Mother says she will not hear of us departing a moment before the nuptials. While I do not agree with her decision, I will not argue with her.”
Another wave of relief washed over her. It was similar to the emotions she felt when she and Pru were separated and then once again reunited, but somehow, far more intense.
“Will you return downstairs?” He’d already confirmed he’d be staying for the remainder of the house party, and Chastity should know better than to press him for more, yet she could not help herself. There was no draw for her to return to the merriment in the salon if Bastian would not join them. “I believe there is to be—”
Laughter and the sound of footsteps approached. With the significant number
of guests, even a manor house as grand as Oxburgh Hall could not be expected to give Chastity and Bastian any amount of privacy.
“Chastity!” Lady Lucianna called from down the hall. “Prudence has been fretting over your whereabouts since our meal ended and we retired to the salon.”
“I have not—”
“Do not be silly, Pru.” Edith stepped around the corner, Prudence clasped tightly to her side. “She has been quite the bore, asking every few minutes to be released to find you.”
“Luci wouldn’t hear of it.” Lady Hawke trailed behind Edith, Luci, and Pru, a book tucked under her arm. “We agreed to help find you on my way to deliver another book to Lady Mansfield.”
Lady Luci, ever the coy hellion, halted before them, glancing from Bastian to Chastity before giving a wink. “I see you are in good hands. Very good hands, indeed.”
“See, Pru, Chastity is perfectly tended to.” Edith giggled.
Prudence’s disapproving glare told Chastity she should expect a severe discussion when next her sister got her alone. Yet, it was no different than the looks she’d garnered from Pru in recent months. How they’d gone from thick as thieves to utter strangers in such a short time was incomprehensible.
Chastity wanted to share everything with her sister: her fears about their mother’s letter, her longing to be more than an overlooked wallflower, and, most recently, everything about Lord Mansfield—Bastian.
But she couldn’t.
“Good evening, ladies.” Bastian nodded to the newly arrived group. His unease at being surrounded by so many strangers was apparent. “Lady Hawke, my many thanks for taking my mother and her reading interests to heart. I must say, she will likely contact you frequently for advice on the subject.”
When Ophelia giggled, and Prudence stiffened, giving the lady a stern look, Chastity suspected that the group had partaken of a glass of sherry—or three.
The Season of Lady Chastity (The Undaunted Debutantes Book 4) Page 9
