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

by Christina McKnight

  A gentle rap sounded on the door, and Chastity’s heart lightened.

  “Come—” Chastity cleared the rasp from her throat. “Come in.”

  The door swung open, and several maids bustled in, a copper tub and pails of steaming water in tow.

  Chastity and Prudence released their grip on one another in the same instant and swiped the tears from their cheeks.

  “A bath, my lady?” a maid asked, keeping her gaze averted from Chastity’s meager attire. “Lord Mansfield bid us bring it up directly.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Chastity said, her heart swelling ever more at Bastian’s care. “By the hearth, please.”

  Bastian had seen to her even after he departed. He’d left, but she hadn’t disappeared from his thoughts.

  The hint of a smile touched Chastity’s lips.

  “That is very thoughtful of Mansfield,” Prudence mumbled. “Or is it Bastian?”

  “Bastian will do.” Chastity smiled again, the acceptance in her sister’s eyes making her heart swell ever more.

  “Is he to court you?” Prudence inquired.

  “We have yet to discuss such things, but—” Chastity paused, uncertain how her true feelings would impact her sister.

  Prudence’s brow raised in question, silently prodding Chastity to continue.

  “I truly hope he voices his intentions before we depart Oxburgh Hall.” With each declaration, her chest squeezed. And when her sister shared her smile, a new hope blossomed within Chastity.

  “I think that would be wonderful. Enjoy your bath, dear sister.” Prudence nodded to the maids as she hurried from the room.

  As the servant readied the tub, Chastity thought Bastian declaring his feelings for her would be more than simply wonderful.

  Chapter 13

  Ribbons of creamy white and cobalt blue streamed from the tall, wooden archway that had been constructed in the Montrose gardens for Luci and Roderick’s marriage ceremony. Enormous boughs of alder, blackthorn, holly, and pine had been hung from the arbor sometime during the early morning hours, utterly transforming the expanse of lawn below the terrace until Chastity did not recognize it as the area she and Bastian had walked through only the previous day. The grass had been covered with long bolts of white fabric, piled around the edges, to make it appear as if the entire party were surrounded by snow drifts. Candles were hung and lit in the trees bordering the lawn. The morning fog that had encapsulated the area only an hour before had lifted to show a bright sky above.

  Lucianna was adorned in a shimmering silver satin gown that hugged her willowy body and accentuated her rounded hips. With her hair piled high atop her head with only a few curls escaping the pins’ hold, she was a vision. Pearl drops hung from her ears, and a matching necklace graced her throat. Despite her perfect dress, styled hair, and adornments, Luci’s smile put it all to shame. Her happiness radiated brighter than a thousand chandeliers.

  The Duke of Montrose, an impressive, stately lord in his own right, was in every way outshone by his captivating bride.

  Lady Camden had certainly outdone herself with the Christmastide wedding ornamentation. Not a single guest would question that Luci and her betrothed were exchanging promises for their future in the middle of a winter wonderland.

  Everything was nearly perfect.

  Chastity surveyed the small gathering for the thousandth time. Everyone had arrived in their finest attire with warm woolen cloaks and jackets. With only about two-dozen guests, it was not difficult to note that there were four empty seats.

  One sat on the far side of Prudence for their father, who had yet to arrive.

  Another sat near the front and was certainly meant for Luci’s father, Lord Camden.

  Those two empty seats were not what concerned Chastity.

  No, it was the seats in the row behind Chastity and Prudence where Bastian and his mother were meant to be seated that worried her.

  “What are you looking at?” Prudence whispered behind her fan, low enough that Triston and Edith could not hear. “The nuptials are taking place in front of us, not behind us.”

  Chastity would not admit she was watching—and waiting—for Bastian.

  Turning back to face the vicar and Roderick and Luci, who stood below the adorned arbor, Chastity suppressed the urge to glance over her shoulder once more and up to the third floor—and the open window she suspected was Lady Mansfield’s chamber.

  Her gown, another found in her mother’s possessions, was a deep ruby hue, and she wore a sparkling emerald brooch at her décolletage. Surprisingly, she’d garnered a few too many glances from attending gentlemen.

  The attention hadn’t made her feel any sort of way.

  She longed for one man to see her in the dress. Bastian.

  However, he was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t joined the party milling about in the foyer before they’d all been ushered out onto the terrace and led down to the lawn for the ceremony. Neither had he slipped into his seat moments before the musicians began the soft melody that announced Luci’s entrance. Chastity was even starting to lose hope that he’d attend the feast directly following the nuptials.

  The conversation she and Prudence had had the evening before in their room lost a bit of weight with each passing moment. She’d admitted to Pru that she longed for Bastian to seek a proper courtship with her; something she and her sister had never expected for each other.

  Edith leaned forward and reached across Triston to grasp Chastity’s hand. “Do they not look lovely?”

  Her brother’s wife sighed contently, her head tilting slightly as she gazed upon her bosom friend. It was a gesture innately capturing all that Edith was: kind, hopeful, and sentimental. Despite the rocky beginnings between her and Triston, they had prevailed and gone on to love one another more than any couple Chastity had ever witnessed—that is until Luci met Roderick and Ophelia met Lord Hawke.

  For the first time, Chastity realized the three couples gave her a sense of hope that she hadn’t noticed she’d lacked before. Their couplings were not borne of dependency or the need to possess another, but of love. Each woman had been happy to surrender a piece of themselves to gain a companion who ultimately completed them in every way.

  The same way Prudence had believed she and Chastity completed each other.

  However, that was not true.

  Both sisters needed something more, something the other could not give them. It was only that Chastity discovered that missing piece first.

  With Bastian.

  “My dearest Lucianna.” Montrose’s deep baritone did not thunder over the guests but came out as more of a throaty declaration. “I knew where my heart lay the moment I laid eyes on you. These months together—all we’ve explored—have only doubled my love for you.” Roderick paused as his guests gushed at his assertion. “Never shall I awaken without you by my side, never shall a meal come to pass without you seated close. Never will a day begin or end without me as your husband, proclaiming my affection for you.”

  Luci’s chin trembled, and she clutched Roderick’s hand, brushing a tear from her cheek as she prepared to speak. “I shall hold you to that promise, my love.”

  It was all Luci spoke before Roderick collected her into his arms and pulled her close, his lips meeting hers as a cheer of well wishes erupted.

  This was what Chastity longed for.

  Affection and love without the need for explanation. Luci and Roderick’s love for one another was so deeply ingrained within them that no matter the obstacle—and there had been many in their short courtship—their commitment to one another never faltered.

  Oddly enough, this had been true for Edith and Ophelia, as well.

  Chastity desperately wanted a similar fate for herself—and Bastian.

  The mild morning breeze blew in through Bastian’s mother’s open window on the second floor of Oxburgh Hall as the sound of stringed instruments floated up to him. The scent of fir boughs hung sometime during the night by servants on silent feet
brought a sense of cheer to the room. Rain had fallen at some point during the night, but the temperatures hadn’t dropped enough for snow, making it possible for Lady Lucianna and the Duke of Montrose’s nuptials to be held in his family gardens. Surveying the crowd, Bastian attempted to spot Lady Chastity milling about with the guests preparing to take their seats, but the distance was too great to locate her.

  Disappointment flared within him, followed quickly by guilt.

  Turning away from the window, Bastian noted the velvet gown his mother had commissioned specifically for Montrose’s wedding hanging on her dressing closet door, her finest cloak slung over a chair, pressed and ready to wear.

  But Lady Mansfield would not be attending the ceremony below.

  And neither would Bastian.

  He’d been so caught up with his thoughts of Chastity that he’d rung for her bath and retired to his room immediately. It wasn’t until the early morning hours that a servant had come to fetch him.

  His mother had taken ill with a fever during the wee hours of the morning. She’d begged the Montrose maid not to awaken Bastian, but the servant had disregarded her wishes in favor of his mother’s well-being.

  Bastian walked across the room, careful not to make any sound before lowering himself to his mother’s bedside. He took the rag from her forehead and dipped it into the basin of water on her side table before wringing out the excess water and placing it back on her ravished skin. How she could be flushed yet pale and ashen at the same time, Bastian did not know. Her body shivered at the contact with the damp rag, and he murmured his apologies. Her eyes fluttered behind her eyelids, but she remained asleep.

  Bastian was grateful for it.

  He’d been so concerned that he’d sent for Doc Durpentire. The physician had appeared awake and at the ready, as if he’d been prepared for the summons. His ministrations were admirable, and never once had he suggested an opium dose. He’d told Bastian his mother was as well as could be expected and sleeping contently. There was no need for him to worry. The doctor had even attempted to send Bastian on to ready for the wedding; however, Bastian had declined. Even after several assurances that Lady Mansfield had not—and was in no immediate danger—of suffering another attack, Bastian could not bring himself to leave her alone.

  No matter how much he longed to see Chastity.

  “Bastian?” his mother croaked, shifting to her side.

  “I am here, Mama.”

  Her eyes fluttered open, and she glanced at the open window. “What time is it?”

  “Nearly midday,” he whispered. “Plenty of time to rest.”

  “The wedding.” She made to push herself up onto her elbows, the rag falling to the bed. She pressed her hand to her forehead and fell back to the pillows. “Oh, my.”

  “Dizzy?”

  “A bit.” She closed her eyes.

  “Doctor Durpentire confirmed it is only a slight fever, no attack.”

  “That is reassuring to hear. Mayhap I will rest for a bit longer.” She went quiet as the strings of music reached her open window. “You need to go. I can hear the musicians. The ceremony must be starting, and I suspect people are awaiting your arrival.”

  Bastian shook his head. “I’m staying right here, and the ceremony is likely ending at any moment.”

  “But—”

  He held up his hand, halting her words. “I came to accompany you, Mama. I will remain right here until you are well.”

  “Do not be unreasonable, Bastian,” she chided. “I am well and will be fit to attend the ball this evening.”

  “The ball,” he choked. “We shall not be attending the ball. Absolutely not.”

  “I will be fine by this evening, I assure you.” She pushed to her elbows again and managed to sit up, clutching the blankets to her. “Can we see the wedding from my window?”

  “Mother, fresh air is good for you, but it is far too cold near the window.”

  When he didn’t move to allow her out of bed, she climbed to the far side, taking her cloak from the chair and wrapping it around her shoulders. The collar was high enough to block her ears, and she sank her hands into the deep pockets.

  “My warmest cloak.” She sat in the chair Bastian had resided in before and leaned close to the open window. So close, Bastian feared she might tumble out and fall to the garden below. “Oh, the yard is gorgeous. All those flowers. I am certain Lady Lucianna will be the most beautiful bride. The raven hair, creamy skin, and willowy height—she is exquisite.” She knotted her hands and pressed them to her chest.

  Bastian suspected memories of her own marriage to Duncan Stanhope, the Earl of Mansfield, floated through her mind, possibly taking over all her senses. It was understandable. An occurrence he’d be unable to prevent.

  “Mother.” He stood, prepared to remove her from the window and return her to the warmth of her bed. “Please, Doc Durpentire said—”

  “He is a very wise man, is he not?”

  The question took Bastian by surprise. “Father?”

  “Heavens no, my boy.” She shook her head sorrowfully, but never looked away from the ceremony below as the stringed music floated through the open window. “But your father was a wise man.”

  “Do you speak of Montrose?” Bastian asked. “Lady Lucianna will make a wonderful duchess.”

  “You are rather dense when it suits you, Bastian,” she said with a quiet laugh. “I speak of the physician.”

  “He is a learned man in charge of the health of all who visit Montrose’s estate.”

  “Yes, that is a rather mighty undertaking,” she mused. “Why do you not go down to the gardens?”

  Bastian glanced at his mother’s unworn dress, knowing his attire hung similarly in his own chambers. “The nuptials are nearly over, I would assume. And besides, you are in need of me.”

  “Oh, Bastian. Do not use me as your excuse. Life will pass you by if you stand aside and consign yourself to the role of onlooker.” She balanced her elbow on the windowsill and set her chin in the palm of her bare hand. “That is not any way to live. Certainly not.”

  It wasn’t difficult to picture his mother, Isabella Stanhope, the Countess of Mansfield, in her youth: her rich mahogany hair, always worn long, and her piercing brown eyes. Truly, his father had no choice but to claim her for himself and take her to wife.

  Oh, to be so certain of something—of the future.

  Bastian had a difficult time looking forward to the coming day, let alone the upcoming decade.

  “Lady Mansfield?” The call was punctuated by a gentle knock at her door. “It is I, Doctor Durpentire. May I come in?”

  His mother shot up in her seat, fussed with her hair, and pulled at the sleeves of her cloak.

  “Just a moment, please.” Hurrying toward him, his mother paused, looking up into Bastian’s eyes. “You look tired, Bastian. If you are determined not to join the festivities in the gardens, I would suggest some rest before the ball this evening.”

  “I shall endeavor to rest, but if the physician does not recommend that you attend, we will remain here.” Bastian kissed his mother on both cheeks. Her color had returned, and she did appear well. “We can play games, or I will read to you.”

  “Very well, son.” She walked to the door, signaling that it was time for him to depart. “I will consult with Clarence; however, I can assure you, I am feeling quite the thing.”

  When Bastian opened the door, the physician stood in the hall, black bag in hand.

  “Good morning, my lord,” the doctor greeted. It did not escape Bastian’s notice that he stared past him, his gaze settling on his mother. “Lady Mansfield. I must say you are looking much better this morning.”

  “Good day, doctor.” Bastian stepped aside to allow him into the room. “I will retire to my chambers and rest. Mama.” He nodded. “Doctor, please send word if you deem my mother fit to attend the ball this evening.”

  “Go on, Bastian. The doctor will care for me.”

  Bastian had
no more stepped over the threshold and into the corridor than his mother’s chamber door shut. His last glimpse inside was of his mother smiling up at the physician.

  Bastian had been distracted by Lady Chastity to such an extent he’d utterly missed his mother’s growing affection for the doctor. It had happened without him noticing. His mother was achieving what Bastian had set out for her. She was moving forward…while Bastian was now the one holding onto the past.

  Perhaps he could learn something from his mother.

  Chapter 14

  The ballroom was brimming with Christmastide cheer: holly, garland, red and silver material hanging from the walls, large fir trees bordering the dance floor, and servants in bright green livery uniforms. The evening ball, which followed the garden wedding and meal, could not have been grander.

  Lady Camden was proving herself the lauded hostess she’d always been.

  A yuletide log had been set up in Chastity’s chamber hearth when she returned to dress for the ball. Matching wrapped gifts had been placed on both Chastity’s and Prudence’s pillows. The entire country party was exquisite, even more so than what she’d expected.

  Despite her plummet into the moat the previous day, her ankle was no longer tender, and her pride had recovered. It had helped that not many had witnessed her disgrace, and those who had were not prone to malicious gossip. Most of the men had been off on the hunt and leagues ahead of Chastity, Edith, Luci, and Ophelia and, therefore, had no notion of what had transpired or why only three women had been present at the end of the hunt and not four.

  She’d fully expected talk of the late-morning excitement regarding her tumble from the saddle to run rampant at their evening meal the night before, but no one had even so much as alluded to it.

  Chastity was happy for the discretion of Montrose’s guests.

  “Shall we?” Edith asked. “I am certain there are many gentlemen clamoring to place their names on your dance cards.”

  After the furtive glances she’d received at the morning wedding, Chastity did not doubt she’d have at least a couple of dance partners.