Hazel closed her eyes briefly. “What has she done?”
“She has danced,” her mother said, with strained composure, “exclusively with Mr. Langford…all evening.”
Hazel opened her eyes. “That is not, in itself, a crime.”
“It becomes one when she refuses every other partner,” her mother replied sharply. “People notice such things. They begin to assume intentions.”
Hazel resisted the urge to sigh. “Chastity is allowed to have preferences, Mother.”
“And she is allowed to ruin herself with them?” Her mother lowered her voice further. “She was seen speaking with him near the terrace doors.Alone. And I am told,” here she paused, clearly pained, “that shelaughed.”
Hazel stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“A great deal,” her mother said stiffly, “and with enthusiasm.”
Hazel bit the inside of her cheek.
“I need your help,” her mother continued, only now, her tone was shifting and becoming softer. “You have always known how to manage these situations. You understand your sisters. You know what must be done to prevent…speculation.”
There it was, that old expectation, laid gently at her feet as though it were not a burden at all, but a duty she would naturally take up. Just as she always had.
Hazel looked across the ballroom. She saw a flushed Chastity now, standing far too close to a young gentleman who lookedequally pleased with himself. She saw, too, the watching eyes, the assessing glances and the faintly raised brows.
And for a moment, she wavered. Then she thought of Greyson’s hand steady at her waist, of the way he had looked at her as though she were not a solution, not a shield, not a sacrifice, but a choice he himself was making.
“I will speak to her,” she said at last. “But I will notmanageher.”
Her mother frowned. “Hazel?—”
“She must learn,” Hazel assured her mother, “as we all must. I will advise her if she wishes it. But I will not rescue her from every consequence.”
Her mother looked as though she might protest further, but Hazel had already turned, heading in Chastity’s direction. Mr. Langford was speaking animatedly, clearly pleased with his own wit. Hazel waited for a pause, then inclined her head politely.
“Mr. Langford, I do beg your pardon,” she addressed the man firmly but politely, “might I borrow my sister for a moment?”
Chastity turned, with surprise flickering across her face before recognition set in. “Hazel?—”
“Just a moment,” Hazel repeated, smiling to soften the request. “I thought we might take a turn through the gardens. A bit of fresh air would do us good.”
Chastity hesitated, glancing at Mr. Langford. He looked as though he might protest, but Hazel’s calm gaze settled on him. He bowed instead.
“Of course,” he said. “I shall look forward to the next dance.”
Hazel inclined her head in return. “Thank you for your understanding.”
As they moved away, Chastity leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Is this a rescue, or am I about to be lectured?”
Hazel’s lips curved faintly. “Neither. Think of it as an interlude.”
They passed through the terrace doors together, leaving the noise of the ballroom behind them. The night air greeted Hazel like a balm, carrying the scent of clipped hedges and damp stone.
Chastity drew in a breath. “It is lovely out here,” she said. “I had not realized how warm it was inside.”
“That is often the case,” Hazel replied. “One forgets to breathe properly.”
They walked side by side along the gravel path. Hazel did not speak at once. She had learned long ago that silence, when used kindly, could invite honesty far better than reprimand.
After a moment, Chastity sighed. “Mother is worried.”
