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

by Christina McKnight

  Comstock and Tamblerton were moving in his direction with Lady Chastity not far behind. The only occurrence more embarrassing than Lady Chastity overhearing Comstock’s cruel taunts would be his mother witnessing the men’s atrocious behavior.

  “Do enjoy yourself, Mama.” Bastian nodded to Durpentire.

  Bastian’s shoulders tensed as the two men grew closer.

  His mother and Durpentire moved off, taking to the dance floor, only a moment before Comstock and his crony neared. Both lords frowned, certainly not the jovial mood he would expect at a ball—a Christmastide wedding ball at that. They spoke low between themselves as they stalked toward the cardroom, not far from where Bastian stood.

  It was only as they passed, neither noticing his presence, that Bastian overheard part of their conversation.

  “…turned me down,” Tamblerton grunted. “Her father may be a marquis, but she is certainly nothing special. I am a bloody viscount. A wealthy lord.”

  “Do not worry yourself, old chap,” Comstock said, clapping his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “She thinks herself above you and me, but she’s little more than a common tart—Downshire’s daughter or not. By the end of the evening, she will see the error of her ways.”

  Bastian had taken the men’s taunts and mistreatment in stride all these years. It was directed at him and affected no one else.

  However, Lady Chastity was more a proper lady than any woman Comstock had likely met in all his life. Speaking of her in such a way was not only improper, it was utterly unacceptable. To make matters worse, Chastity was moving in their wake in the direction of her sister waiting by the cardroom door—or had she changed her mind about dancing with Tamblerton?

  Fury boiled within Bastian as the pair paused and turned back toward Lady Chastity. Tamblerton’s outrage dissipated, and they smiled at Lady Chastity.

  Tamblerton leered. “Come to beg our forgiveness, my lady?”

  Chastity paused, glancing past the lord to her sister beyond. “No, I fear it is only horrible happenstance that we are moving in the same direction.” To her credit, Chastity’s chin lifted a notch as she rebuffed Tamblerton.

  “Why not come with us to the terrace where we can speak about your rudeness in private,” Comstock stepped forward and grabbed Chastity’s elbow. “You will see you’ve made a grave mistake in embarrassing my friend.”

  Chastity winced at his crushing grip, and Bastian had had enough of the two lords.

  “Unhand her, Comstock,” Bastian demanded, stepping free of the crowd bordering the dance floor.

  The pair of men glanced at Bastian and chuckled. “Or what, Manny? You’ll summon your mama to come scold us all proper-like?”

  Chastity struggled in Comstock’s hold as Tamblerton moved in closer to her, shielding the scuffle from view. There was absolute terror in her eyes as the color drained from her face, leaving her skin an ashen green hue.

  “Mayhap your mama will call on my father and have my allowance taken away,” Tamblerton hissed.

  “This girl needs to understand that she does not turn my friend down when he is kind enough to offer her the privilege of a dance. She is a plain, frumpish prude who should know her place.” Comstock jerked Chastity’s arm as if he meant to drag her from the room. “I can assure you, her father will be disappointed to hear that his daughter was anything but hospitable to his business associates.”

  Bastian had never been a gentleman prone to fits of rage.

  Never had he been a violent man.

  But now, Bastian pushed forward, causing Comstock to release his hold on Chastity. He drew his hand back. His fist shot out, crushing Comstock square in the nose and sending him skidding backwards onto the floor as crimson blood rushed down the rogue’s face to mar his expertly tied cravat.

  Tamblerton knelt at his friend’s side, attempting to assist him up, but Comstock waved off his help.

  “Mansfield,” Comstock snarled. “You will regret—”

  “The only thing I will regret is not exposing your vile nature years ago, Comstock,” Bastian said, stepping before Chastity. “You are a despicable man and are not fit to be near a woman of Lady Chastity’s distinction.” Bastian vaguely noted that the ballroom had gone completely silent; however, he did not care about the spectacle he created. Protecting Lady Chastity’s honor was worth a million scandalous scenes. “Tamblerton, collect your sniveling friend and depart Oxburgh Hall. Tonight. Take Liddell and Ruthven with you. I am certain you do not wish Montrose and Torrington to hear of your despicable behavior.”

  “You cannot—” Tamberton stammered. “I say…this is—"

  “I can, and I will.” Bastian’s harsh tone left no room for argument. “If I find you still in residence at the end of this night, I will personally come and throw the four of you from Montrose’s house. And it will be with the duke’s blessing and Downshire lending assistance.”

  Bastian had no way of knowing if Chastity’s father would take his side or not.

  Without a doubt, Montrose would align with him.

  As Comstock pushed to his feet, his hand pressed to his nose, Tamblerton helped him toward the side door—the same one he and his mother had entered through only a few moments before.

  Murmurs erupted around Bastian, but he was only interested in making certain Lady Chastity was unharmed.

  Pivoting, Bastian faced her.

  His agitation fled when he took in her widened stare. Bastian had frightened her with his violent outburst. Was she now scared of him, too, putting him in the same category as Comstock and his cronies?

  “Lady Chastity…” His words trailed off. No explanation for his behavior seemed to justify his actions. “I could not stand by and allow Comstock to treat you in such a manner. I am immensely sorry for putting you in the middle—”

  She held up her hand, her dance card dangling from her wrist, to halt his rationalizations. Bastian was sensible enough to know that was exactly what they were, justifications and rationalizations for his brutish behavior. He was no different than Comstock. His anger had taken over, and he lashed out.

  Chastity jiggled her arm before him, her dance card swinging to and fro.

  It was time for Bastian’s stare to widen before narrowing on the list of names printed in a flowing script on her card. She hadn’t held up her hand to stop him from speaking. No, she’d been showing him her dance card.

  Under Ruthven and Comstock was Bastian’s name.

  Lord Mansfield.

  Written on all the remaining lines.

  “Lord Mansfield.” Her lips turned up in the most enchanting of smiles. An expression he’d quickly come to recognize as implicitly Chastity—diverting and impish—and he couldn’t help but grin. “I do believe you have promised we shall dance together for the remainder of the evening.”

  “That is rather scandalous, my lady,” he replied.

  “More shocking than thumping a man in the nose in a crowded ballroom?”

  “I dare say, yes.” Bastian heard the crowd around them grow louder; however, he was lost in Chastity’s captivating bronze eyes. “Many would think it was I who wrote you the love note of sorts you clung to by the moat.”

  Her eyes flared. “That note was not mine, my lord. However, if you were to wax poetic about my beauty, I would not be opposed.”

  Bastian’s heart swelled, and he spoke—from his heart. “I would rather write of your wit and intellect.”

  Chastity’s soft blush pulled at his heart. How could that rakehell, Comstock, ever think the woman before him was prudish and plain? Lady Chastity was anything but.

  The musicians struck a chord to gain the attention of the crowd and likely distract them from the spectacle Bastian had created. Glancing toward the dais, Bastian could see Lady Camden attempting to start the dancing once more. Next, it was his mother, frozen in Doc Durpentire’s arms that earned his notice, and he nearly averted his stare to keep from seeing her disappointment. When she nodded at him, Bastian knew she approved…h
ad always approved of him venturing out to find his own path in life.

  Thankfully, that journey had led him to Chastity.

  “My lord,” Lady Chastity said. “I do believe this dance belongs to me.”

  Bastian held out his arm as every set of eyes in the ballroom watched them. Making their way to the dance floor proved simple, each guest stepping to the side to clear a path for Bastian and Chastity.

  Lord Hawke and Lord Montrose inclined their heads as Bastian passed.

  Their wives reached out to squeeze Chastity’s gloved hand and smiled.

  On any other day, Bastian would have shrunk under the scrutiny of so many people. Instead, he held his head high, his grip on Chastity never wavering as they took to the dance floor.

  Lady Camden clapped her hands excitedly, and the musicians began.

  Not a cotillion or a Scotch reel, but a waltz.

  Bastian drew Chastity as close as was appropriate, her floral scent enchanting him as solidly as her smile had only a few moments before.

  It was Chastity who spoke first, and Bastian was happy for it. There was much he had to say, and none of it appropriate for a crowded dance floor where their every word was certainly being noted.

  “You look dashingly handsome this evening, Bastian,” she said, her skirts flaring around her legs as they were both swept into the dance. “I had begun to think you’d left Oxburgh Hall without saying goodbye.”

  The dancers surrounding them faded into the background. The sound of the music could barely be heard over the pounding of his heart.

  Not a thing existed beyond Chastity in his arms.

  “I could never leave…” He wanted to add, “you.”

  He had more than a mere woman in his arms, he held his future, his chance for love, and everything that had been lacking in his life thus far.

  Only when he was with Chastity did he know what living actually was. He was no longer satisfied waiting on the fringes and watching as life happened around him…for other people.

  As quickly as it had happened, and as surprising as it was, he loved Chastity, and he had no intention of letting her go without telling her where his heart lay.

  Chapter 16

  All these months, Chastity had misguidedly thought she longed for the opportunity to shed her wallflower ways, to take her place among society as more than Triston’s sister and Downshire’s unmemorable daughter. Now that every eye in the ballroom followed her and Bastian as they swept around the dance floor, Chastity realized it wasn’t the spotlight or attention of all of society she’d sought, but the notice and affection of one man.

  Bastian Stanhope, the Earl of Mansfield.

  It had taken their fateful meeting by the moat to put it all into motion.

  It didn’t matter that her mother was a debutante of the first waters.

  It didn’t matter that her mother had caught the attention of every unattached lord in England with her beauty and charm.

  It didn’t even matter if her mother had found her dearest Cam that night, and they’d found a way to be together before she wed Downshire.

  What was of significance was that Chastity mattered to Bastian. It was clear in everything he said and did.

  She stared up into the strong face of the man she’d be content to gaze upon for the rest of her days. His quiet, reserved nature. His unending compassion. His fierce loyalty.

  He was everything she’d ever longed for, and all she wanted in her future.

  Her head—and her heart—swam with the knowledge. She’d been searching for something, but she hadn’t realized that it wasn’t her mother’s past she longed to find but her own future.

  “I love you.” The words slipped unbidden past her lips, though not untruthfully.

  “Chastity.” The longing in his stare and the tightening of his hold told her that he felt the same, even if his fist connecting with Lord Comstock’s nose weren’t proof enough. “I hold you in great esteem, as well.” He paused, glancing around them as if he hadn’t noticed they moved in a sea of other lords and ladies. “Wait, that is not true.”

  Her heart skipped a beat before stopping completely, her feet following suit.

  Had she been mistaken? Had she thought Bastian returned her feelings because it was what she longed for?

  Slowly, the dancers around them halted and took notice of the couple frozen in the middle of the floor.

  Twice in one evening, she’d been placed at the center of attention, and it did not suit her as she’d thought it would. She could sense every stare on her and Bastian, even that of her family.

  “Bastian?” She needed him to go on, but fear coursed through her at what he might confess.

  “I more than hold you in great esteem, my lady. I am convinced my love surpasses your own.”

  Her knees weakened beneath her, and her mind swirled again.

  “My dears.” Chastity glanced away from Bastian for the first time to see his mother at their sides, on the arm of Doc Durpentire. “I think it best you seek a moment of privacy.”

  Had Bastian told his mother of his affection for Chastity?

  The way the older pair smiled at her said that if he hadn’t, Lady Mansfield and Doc Durpentire had their own suspicions.

  Lady Mansfield swept her arm toward the door Comstock had fled through. “Come, dears. The library is not far.”

  Chastity could only nod as she took Bastian’s arm and followed Lady Mansfield from the ballroom. If she had been more aware of those surrounding her, Chastity would have noticed that her sister, along with Ophelia, Edith, and Luci, fell in line behind them.

  She heard Luci, now the Duchess of Montrose, instructing her guests to enjoy themselves; to drink and be merry until she returned in a moment’s time.

  The soft strings of the waltz restarted as the group stepped into the corridor and moved toward the library.

  Chapman fell into step next to Bastian, and she heard bits and pieces of their whispered conversation.

  “…gone within the hour, my lord.”

  Bastian pulled Chastity closer to his side. “See that they are, or notify me immediately.”

  “I shall,” Chapman said before disappearing.

  “This way.” Doc Durpentire gestured to the open library door, the same room she’d spoken with Lady Camden in on her second day at Oxburgh Hall. “You will find the privacy needed here, and I will endeavor to make certain you are not interrupted.”

  She was whisked into the cavernous room, every wall covered in books and antiquities as a yuletide log burned in the hearth. The pleasant, comforting aroma of the wine-drizzled bark as the flames licked at the wood reminded Chastity of her childhood, but now, she suspected it would always make her remember Bastian and his love for her.

  The library door latched shut, and she could faintly hear voices in the hall.

  There was only one person who she needed to hear from, and he was in the room with her.

  “Did you mean what you said, Bastian?” she asked. “Our affection is mutual?”

  His brown stare had never been so serious as he took her gloved hands in his, his thumbs gently caressing the tops of her hands through the material. It was almost as if they were skin-to-skin. She knew the sensation well, had memorized it during their time in her bedchamber because she’d believe it would be the only time they had together.

  “I meant every word, and I have so much more to tell you.” Bastian pressed his lips to hers, pulling her against him in one swift motion. Their mouths moved in unison as if they’d danced together like this more than just the once. All too soon, he pulled back and stared down at her as hesitancy clouded his eyes.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Bastian glanced toward the closed door. “It sounds as if we shall not have many more moments of privacy before your brother bursts through the door. However, I need to ask.”

  “Ask what?” she sighed, reveling in the warmth of his strong hold. “Anything.”

  “The note you held that
first day,” he said. “You said it wasn’t yours.”

  Chastity wanted to laugh, but she did not want to give Bastian the impression that she laughed at him. “Prudence and I found it in my mother’s belongings. It was a letter written to the man who held her heart. Though, it seems it went undelivered.”

  “Do you know who the man is?”

  Chastity shook her head. “No, though given what Lady Camden told me earlier, it seems as if it was from before she met and wed my father. It was tucked into this very dress.”

  “Mayhap I can be of some help solving the mystery,” he offered.

  “What if the truth proves that my mother was unfaithful to my father, and Prudence or I are deemed not of Downshire blood?”

  Chastity watched Bastian closer than she’d ever scrutinized anything. If she were found to be a bastard, what would that mean for their budding courtship?

  “I care naught of such matters, only that you are happy,” he confessed. “Nothing about your past can change how I feel about you now. The past has dictated every aspect of my life thus far, and I won’t allow that to continue.”

  It was everything Chastity had longed to hear. Bastian cared for her regardless of what was discovered about her mother.

  Bastian stepped back, admiring her from head to toe. It was clear he wasn’t thinking about the letter any longer, just as Chastity’s gaze took in the sight of him as her chest fluttered.

  “You were the most stunning lady at the ball this evening,” Bastian confessed.

  “I cannot believe you jabbed Lord Comstock in the nose.” Defending her honor before an entire ballroom had cast Bastian in a new light. Certainly, he was reserved, but no longer was he quiet in his fierce loyalty. “I must confess, I longed to do the same.”

  “It was gratifying.” He chuckled.

  Chastity laughed along with him, remembering the grip on her arm and Comstock’s shocked expression and subsequent pinwheel to the floor when Bastian’s fist connected with the lord’s face.

  “What now?” she asked.

  Bastian made no pretense of not knowing what she spoke of. “Courtship, though soon, I will ask your father for your hand in marriage. The contracts will be drawn up, the banns read, and you will become the Countess of Mansfield.” There was no hesitancy left in his tone, and Chastity suspected she loved this confident, unabashed Bastian as much as she adored the pensive, quiet earl she’d met by the moat.