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

by Christina McKnight

  Triston chuckled, slipping his arm around his wife. “They are more than welcome to ask; however, they will need to be approved by me.”

  Prudence scoffed.

  “You are both radiant,” Triston said as they halted at the top of the stairs leading into the ballroom below. “I cannot imagine more suitable gowns for the pair of you.”

  “They were our mother’s,” Chastity shared. If Triston was surprised by the revelation, he did not show it.

  Prudence had chosen a puce confection with an overlay of silver lace, while Chastity stayed fast to the blue gown with the plunging neckline. It had fit almost perfectly without any alterations needed, except for some of the black beading and an update to the waistline. Chastity could practically picture her mother wearing the dress and how she must have waltzed into a crowded ballroom, attracting every gentleman’s notice—much to the chagrin of Chastity’s father. She would have likely worn her hair piled high atop her head with lengths of black ribbon and beads threaded throughout—and so, Chastity had done the same.

  They began down the steps and into the crowded room, Chastity taking the opportunity to scan the space from her elevated position.

  Lord Mansfield was nowhere to be seen, just as he’d been absent from Luci’s wedding and the meal that followed.

  Perhaps his mother had taken a turn and needed to return home.

  Disappointment flared, despite Chastity knowing that Bastian had never declared anything more than friendship. They’d shared a few private, intimate moments that had increased her hopes for a future courtship, but Bastian didn’t owe her an explanation for his absence. If anything, Bastian was due a thank you from her. He’d always allowed her to be…herself. Merely because she’d gained hope that he’d begin a proper courtship, did not mean it was what he wanted. Chastity knew enough to know that simply desiring something was not everything needed to make it true.

  “Father missed the ceremony.” Prudence sighed.

  “Yes, but he—and Lord Camden—arrived directly after the wedding feast.” Triston had taken over the task of reassuring his two younger siblings, a duty he hadn’t wanted any part of until he met Edith. Had his wife changed him for the better, or had he been pushed to focus on things other than himself? Chastity didn’t care, as long as the new Triston remained. She relished his doting. “He should join us shortly. He demanded the pair of you dance at least one set this evening. And before either of you agree, know that his stipulations excluded me, Colin, and Roderick as partners.”

  There were not many other men to choose from—at least without them being too old, already wed, or otherwise unsuitable.

  Chastity had already deemed it necessary for her to circulate with the other guests. It is what she had set out to do when coming to Oxburgh Hall, after all. She was not foolish enough to believe that there was more than one lord she hoped to dance with. Yet, her father had only demanded one.

  “Good evening, my sweet girls,” their father’s voice boomed from behind them. “Torrington.”

  Prudence and Chastity did as they always did when shown any attention from their father—they fell into their roles as devoted daughters, even though their ages dictated they should not.

  “Father,” Prudence said, smiling broadly. “You are here!”

  “I said I would come. It took a bit longer for the travel than I expected.” Their father glanced at Triston. Their discord over the last several months had only intensified when their father continued to visit Esmee. “Though I promised I would join you, and here I am. May I introduce Lord Camden and his wife, Lady Camden.”

  Chastity hadn’t noticed Luci’s parents beside her own father. She and Prudence offered quick greetings and curtsied. “My lord,” Chastity said. “Lady Camden, it is lovely to see you again. The ballroom appears a Christmastide wonderland, for certain.”

  “Thank you for our gifts.” Prudence touched the golden pendant around her neck.

  “You are both very welcome.” Lady Camden nodded graciously. “Your gowns are beautiful.”

  “Yes, wherever did you have them made?” their father, Lord Downshire, asked. “I do not remember seeing a modiste bill, though I can say I would have paid handsomely if you both required more gowns commissioned.”

  “They belonged to Mother.” Chastity smiled, waiting for recognition to dawn in her father’s eyes. When he did not immediately respond, Chastity glanced at Prudence. Certainly, their father would recognize such an extravagant gown. “We found them in mother’s trunks…in the attic.”

  “It was not a favored gown then,” her father mused. “I mayhap remember Pru’s gown, but not the blue and black.”

  Surprisingly, it was Lady Camden who spoke. “I believe she wore that particular gown to her coming-out ball at her parents’ estate in Dover. As balls go, it was a small affair, not many more guests than are here now. You look as utterly captivating as she did, my dear Lady Chastity.”

  Chastity nodded her thanks to Lady Camden and turned to her father. It was Prudence who voiced the question they both had.

  “Father, you truly do not remember it?” Prudence prodded.

  “I did not meet your mother until she journeyed to London a few weeks after her coming-out.” Her father paused and nodded to a passing guest before he previewed the room, oblivious to the turmoil overtaking his daughter. “After our meeting, she never journeyed back to Dover. All the same, you look lovely, my dears. I imagine Triston has shared with you my request for the evening?”

  His brow rose when neither Chastity nor Prudence responded.

  “Torrington, have you been remiss?”

  “Of course, not.” Tension laced each word. “I live to serve you, after all.”

  Their father turned a sharp, piercing glare on his eldest child. To his credit, Triston leveled his own stare back at their father, refusing to back down.

  What neither man noticed was the stark similarities between the looks.

  “We shall promise to dance, Father,” Prudence said, breaking the tension.

  “I believe Lady Hawke is attempting to gain your attention, Edith.” Chastity nodded toward the refreshment table, and Edith took the opportunity to pull Triston deeper into the ballroom and away from their small group while Prudence did her best to distract their father.

  Chastity glanced down at her mother’s gown, going over everything she’d learned in the last few minutes. How could they have been so misguided? Or perhaps they’d purposely limited their beliefs surrounding the timing of the note they’d found. If her mother had worn the dress at her coming-out ball, then it meant she’d fallen in love with her dearest Cam before she married—and therefore, before she’d become pregnant with Prudence, not after she’d wed and moved to London. Could the pair have continued their affair after their mother had moved to London and started her family?

  If so, what did that mean for Chastity and Prudence?

  “Ah, here we are, gentlemen.” Her father chuckled, bringing Chastity back to the present.

  When Chastity focused her stare, the Lords Comstock, Ruthven, and Liddell stood before them, bowing swiftly to her father.

  “Lord Downshire,” Comstock heartily greeted as if he and her father were old acquaintances. “It is a pleasure to see you once more.”

  “My lord. Gentlemen.” Her father gestured toward Prudence and Chastity. “May I introduce my daughters. Lady Chastity, and Lady Prudence.”

  The lords fawned over Chastity and Prudence as if they hadn’t sat near one another at every meal since their arrivals at Oxburgh Hall. Perhaps they truly hadn’t noticed—or cared—who the two young women were until they realized they were Downshire’s daughters with healthy dowries and advantageous connections.

  “You would honor me greatly, Lady Chastity if you placed my name on your dance card.” Ruthven’s grin was more of a leer, but when her father slapped the young man on the back and nodded, she suspected she had little option but to promise a set to the man. “That is if your card is
not full.”

  Comstock and Liddell chuckled.

  Her cheeks flamed hotly, and she turned her focus to the card dangling from her wrist. It was true, she was rarely asked to dance, and so the notion that all of her dances were spoken for was a bit comical, but it was not for the scoundrels before her to comment on. To Chastity’s chagrin, her father didn’t address the men’s rudeness. Ruthven and his cohorts had relished taunting Bastian mercilessly. Chastity would enjoy nothing more than to lift her chin, turn the men down, and walk away.

  Unfortunately, her father spoke first. “Of course, it appears the musicians are preparing to begin now. You are not spoken for, are you Chastity?”

  Her card was indeed empty.

  Oddly enough, she’d nearly forgotten her nub to write names on her card.

  “No, Father.”

  “May I request the next set?” Comstock stepped forward.

  It was obvious that the men only sought to please Chastity’s father—and they were doing a marvelous job of it.

  Her father laughed, “Of course, of course.”

  Chastity quickly scribbled Ruthven’s and Comstock’s names on her card but filled the remaining spaces before Liddell could inquire. Two dances were all she was willing to promise to the group of blackguards.

  She felt extremely self-conscious of her plunging neckline and Ruthven bending over her offered hand, his nose mere inches from her bodice.

  For not the first time, she searched the room for a hint of Bastian or his mother, but the pair was still missing.

  She’d longed to step out of the shadows, away from the fringes of the ballroom, but she’d never thought it possible. Now, here she was with two gentlemen on her dance card yet longing for the only man who’d made her feel truly special.

  Prudence was correct.

  Chastity cared for the Earl of Mansfield.

  She desired more than a mere courtship from Bastian.

  She longed to be in his arms again, sitting along the path by the water’s edge, deep in conversation or exchanging witty banter with him. Chastity would even take lying in the freezing moat again if only Bastian were with her as she did so.

  Chapter 15

  “This is absurd,” his mother huffed, lifting her chin as the opal stitched into her cap glistened in the light cast from the wall sconce. “I am not an invalid and shan’t be treated as such.”

  Bastian held the single door open, waiting for her to enter the ballroom as the sounds of music, laughter, and conversation escaped the room. “Doc Durpentire explicitly stated that it would be prudent not to overexert yourself.”

  Instead of walking into the ballroom, she remained in the corridor, and her hands landed on her hips. The pose transported Bastian back to a time long ago before his family was torn apart and his mother’s body had been left ravished. As a child, he hadn’t been so quick to follow the rules and listen to direction. He’d taken risks, snuck a nip of brandy once, and even eavesdropped on his father’s important business meetings. He’d been reprimanded swiftly and severely.

  “Come now,” he placated. “You begged to come, and here we are.”

  “Bypassing the receiving line and slipping in through a side door as if we do not belong…like a pair of sneak-thieves?”

  “You know it is not that,” he argued.

  His mother’s stare sparked with indignation. “Then what?”

  “The stairs.” Why must she insist on him saying it aloud? Bastian turned toward the music drifting from the ballroom and out into the hall, embarrassed at his admission. “I do not wish for you to become overtired.”

  “I am not a child to be coddled, Mansfield.” Her tone hardened as she attempted to hide her disappointment.

  Manny, the mama’s boy.

  The age-old taunt played over and over in his mind.

  Yet, if their time at Oxburgh Hall had taught Bastian anything, it was that his mother was more than capable of caring for herself. Perhaps she hadn’t been before, but now…things were different. She was different. It was almost as if a distance were growing between them; their relationship moving from them being dependent on one another, back to the mother and son rapport they had before his father had taken ill. It was only Bastian who clung to what his mother might no longer need from him—or want.

  Bastian smiled reassuringly. “I promise not to coddle you, Mama.”

  She patted his cheek. “Very good. Shall we join the celebration?”

  Her easy switch in demeanor threw him off guard. She’d been upset with him, and then not. He couldn’t escape the nagging memory that such mood changes usually predicated an attack.

  However, he’d promised not to coddle her, and would not ask after her health for the evening.

  His anticipation of seeing Chastity after missing the ceremony that morning only grew by the moment. He’d been relieved when the doctor had sent word that his mother could attend the ball.

  Bastian stepped through the door and held out his arm for his mother. If he were honest, he was beyond satisfied to see his mother in good health and jovial spirits. He knew if she wanted to dance all night long, he’d remain close to keep watch but would refrain from interfering.

  That did not stop him from spotting Chastity on the dance floor the moment she reached the edge of the dancers—in Comstock’s arms. He was helpless to do anything but watch as the vile lord twirled her around the floor, her blue gown swirling wide, its beadwork glittering in the light of the chandeliers above.

  It should be his arm circling her waist. It should be Bastian smiling down at her as she laughed at his jokes. It should be he who brought such lightness to her steps.

  Yet, it would mean moving out of the place he’d created for himself, as an onlooker while his life passed him by. His mother had placed the ridiculous notion in his head earlier in the day, and he’d been unable to rid himself of it.

  For Bastian, Chastity was worth pushing himself into unknown waters.

  Lady Chastity wasn’t the type to stand on the fringes of a room and allow her life to proceed around her. Their relationship thus far told Bastian that she was the type of lady who knew what she wanted and actively sought it out. Their every encounter, limited as they were, was yet another glimpse into Chastity’s character and how Bastian could discover his best self with her. How he could see through the murky cloud that had settled over him years before, obscuring his view of the future so completely that he could not picture any life but the one he’d led for the past several years.

  Blessedly, the music came to a climax before ending. His relief was short-lived as Tamblerton strolled forward to talk to Comstock—or possibly claim Chastity’s next set.

  The lord’s smile turned to a frown when Chastity shook her head and pointed at her dance card. Bastian could not see what her card held nor hear the exchange from where he stood.

  In short order, the two lords stalked away, leaving Lady Chastity alone on the dance floor as the musicians tuned their instruments for the next set, and new couples swept to the floor.

  “Why do you not invite her to dance?” his mother whispered.

  In a way, Bastian feared he’d disappointed Chastity when he failed to attend the wedding. “I am certain her card is full, and I am too late.”

  “I think you’ve misinterpreted the situation.” His mother kept her eyes trained on Chastity as she spoke.

  His brow rose in question. “How?”

  “You have undervalued your worth, Bastian, and underestimated Lady Chastity’s ability to recognize a good man when she meets one.”

  “You cannot possibly—”

  “A woman knows, Bastian,” his mother replied. “Have you not seen her eyes scanning the room, just as yours did when we entered? She was not intent on her dance partner, nor the gentleman who requested her next set because…she is waiting for you.”

  Bastian wasn’t given much time to explore her words as Doc Durpentire appeared at his mother’s side. The smile from earlier in the day—th
e grin that could turn a rainy day clear—reappeared on his mother’s face.

  “Lord Mansfield.” Durpentire nodded before turning to his mother and bowing low. “My lady. How is my patient this evening?”

  “I am quite the thing, thank you, sir.” She pulled a fan from her bag and flapped it several times in front of her face, though the room was not overly warm. “I did not expect to see you here.”

  “I am full of surprises,” the doctor retorted.

  Bastian stood still as his mother laughed—actually laughed. It had been years since he’d heard such a melodic sound from her; though, here his mother was, captivating the man before her.

  Just as Chastity had enthralled him from the moment she’d spoken at their first meeting.

  “I do not suppose you have a set open for me?” the physician asked.

  “The time when I was in need of a dance card passed long ago.” She batted her eyes at the elder doctor.

  “Does that mean you will dance with me, my lady?” Doc Durpentire pressed, much to Bastian’s chagrin. He could almost picture the aging doctor in his youth before his hair had greyed and his broad shoulders began to stoop. “We shall call it an endeavor for exercise.”

  “There is no need of such a grand reason to ask a lady to dance, Clarence.”

  The doctor chuckled and held out his arm. “I hope you do not mind, Lord Mansfield. I will return her immediately after the set.”

  He wasn’t certain what surprised him more: his mother’s adeptness at amorous banter, or the doc’s inference that Bastian was his mother’s guardian and keeper. He was protective of her, sure, but Bastian would never think to control his mother.

  Bastian released her arm and searched the room once more for Chastity.

  “It is one dance,” she whispered. “I must live, and when I do, you will also be free to do the same. Mayhap pursue a lovely lady?”

  There was no mistaking who she spoke of as his mother glanced up at him at the same time his eyes alighted on the woman who’d filled his every waking thought—and his dreams—for days.