“Hazel?” Chastity’s voice reached her at last. She sounded alarmed. “Are you… are you all right?”
Hazel blinked, once, then twice. She straightened her spine with mechanical precision, drawing the shawl tighter around herself as though it were armor.
“I am quite well,” she said, and heard the lie in her own voice. “I am simply… tired.”
Chastity frowned. “You don’t look well. You look as though?—”
“I should like to go home,” Hazel interrupted gently but firmly. “To Mama and Papa’s. I will wait there for you and the others.”
Chastity stared at her. “Go home? Now? But the ball?—”
“I have had enough of it.”
A pause. Then, softer, “I will go with you.”
Hazel shook her head. “No. Stay. Enjoy yourself with Mr. Langford.”
Chastity hesitated, then glanced back toward the terrace. “What about your husband?”
The word landed like a blow. Hazel’s composure cracked not outwardly, but inwardly, splitting clean through the careful order she had constructed around her heart. Fury rose sharp and sudden, flaring first toward Greyson, then the woman wrapped in his coat, but it turned, inevitably, inward, at herself, her weakness, her hope, and finally, her foolish, treacherous heart.
She lifted her chin. “He has already made his choice.”
Chastity’s eyes widened. “Hazel, I’m certain that?—”
“No. I will not make a scene,” Hazel cut her off. “I will not beg for an explanation. I will simply remove myself.”
Chastity’s usual brightness was now dimmed by concern. Then she squared her shoulders. “Then I will go home with you.”
Hazel shook her head at once. “There is no reason for you to leave.”
“I am not leaving you alone like this,” Chastity replied, with an unfamiliar firmness. “Not tonight.”
Hazel opened her mouth to argue, but Chastity lifted a hand.
“I only wish to tell Mama what has happened,” she continued. “She will notice our absence, and?—”
“No.” Hazel’s grip tightened at her sister’s wrist. “Absolutely not. She must not know.”
Chastity hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Very well. Then I shall tell her something else.”
Hazel looked at her with the eyes of a startled doe. “What?”
“That you scolded me,” Chastity said calmly. “For Mr. Langford. I shall say you thought my behavior improper and insisted we retire before anyone could speak of it.”
Hazel’s breath caught.
“I am quite accustomed to Mama’s displeasure,” Chastity added with a small, wry smile. “And this way, no one will think anything amiss of you or of the Duke.”
Hazel had been holding herself together by sheer force of will, by habit, by years of being the strong one. Butthis, this unexpected generosity, this willingness to shoulder blame for the sake of peace, struck deeper than Greyson’s betrayal ever could.
Her eyes burned. She blinked hard, but tears gathered all the same.
“Chastity,” she said, her voice roughening despite her efforts, “you do not have to do that.”
“I know,” her sister replied simply. “I want to.”
Hazel reached for her then, clasping Chastity’s hand tightly between both of her own. “Thank you,” she said, the words carrying far more than gratitude alone.
