Page 11 of The Season of Lady Chastity

She only gave him a pointed, knowing look.

He’d taken to being at his mother’s bedside when she had trouble sleeping and had found himself slipping into her chambers in the dead of night to make certain her rest was peaceful. Bastian hadn’t thought she knew of his midnight comings and goings, though her mindfulness shouldn’t surprise him.

“Do hurry on, Bas.” She walked across the room, her earlier limp almost undetectable after her hour of rest. “I am going to change into my nightshift and read a book Lady Ophelia—such a dear girl—sent up from the duke’s library for me.”

“Are you certain?” They were in an unfamiliar house after a long day of travel. “I think it best I remain close in case you need me.”

“Do not be silly. Go on. Have a spot of merriment.”

Bastian stood from his chair. “I will check on you on my way to my chambers later.”

“If you insist.” She turned away from him and stepped from the sitting room into her private bedchamber beyond.

He hadn’t intended to find any sort of enjoyment at Montrose’s wedding. He certainly hadn’t relished his time thus far, having been waylaid by his other schoolmates near the moat.

No, that was not entirely true. Some of the day had been good. He’d met Lady Chastity and had been invited to play cards with Montrose and the duke’s two friends, Lord Torrington, and Lord Hawke. It was obvious the trio was only seeking a fourth for their card game, but Bastian would not allow that to dissuade him from finding a few moments of camaraderie.

“Goodnight, Mama.” His farewell echoed in the room, and he made his way to the hallway and the main stairs beyond.

A few hours away from his mother and devoid of Comstock’s irritating jests would suit Bastian well. Come tomorrow, and the three days after that, he might not be able to hide from his old schoolmates.

“Lord Mansfield,” the Montrose butler greeted him. “His Grace is expecting you in the green salon. This way, please.”

Bastian followed the servant, his footsteps making no sound as he moved with ease down the winding corridors of Oxburgh Hall. He kept his eyes focused on the floor in front of him, praying he and the butler did not cross paths with James or his cronies. Etiquette would demand he remain and chat or invite them to join Montrose’s private card night. He’d rather claim ill and return above stairs to his mother’s bedside than spend even one unrequired moment with his old mates.

They turned a corner, and the butler pulled to a halt, bowing low. “Good evening, my lady.”

“Good evening, Chapman,” Lady Chastity said, her familiar tone filling the hall. Bastian nearly pushed the servant out of his path to see her. “I do hope all His Grace’s guests are settling in.”

“The duke’s home is well run and organized, my lady.” The stoic butler chuckled—actually laughed. “Will you be joining the duke and Lady Lucianna in the green salon?”

Bastian waited for the servant to step aside, craving the moment when his eyes could behold Lady Chastity.

Bastian cleared his throat, and both the butler and Lady Chastity turned to face him. “Lady Chastity.” He nodded, giving her a knowing smile as if their time by the moat had created some bond between them. “Lovely to see you again.”

He’d thought he’d need wait until the next morning to catch a glimpse of the lovely lady again.

“Lord Mansfield? Are you joining Montrose and Luci for parlor games?”

Parlor games? He’d thought it was a card game—between men. Bastian had always shied away from time spent with no direct purpose. This was a time when idle talk could lead to a man speaking of such matters that should be kept private.

“Yes, the duke invited me to join him and a few friends this evening.”

She smiled, her rosebud lips turning up in a peculiar way he’d never noticed on any woman before. “Then I suspect we should not keep them waiting.”

She held out her gloved hand, and Bastian moved closer to accept it. If it was his choice he’d pull her to his side and escort her through the halls as they talked of their day. His thoughts froze, and his chest tightened. Since when had he sought out such talks with anyone outside of his own home? What was it about Lady Chastity that had him holding his breath in anticipation of seeing her next, or speaking to her?

“The green salon—”

“I know where I am going, Chapman.” Lady Chastity pulled her hand from Bastian’s and for a moment, he feared she meant to go on without him. Blessedly, she slipped it into the crook of his elbow and they proceeded farther down the hall as Bastian struggled to keep his breathing steady. “I was not aware you and Montrose were such bosom friends as to garner an invite to his private evening gathering.”

He smiled inwardly. “That would make two of us, my lady.”

She gently squeezed his arm and laughed. “Montrose despises this entire spectacle; though, Luci is one for dramatics. Their compromise? An evening spent with only their closest friends and family.”

“Should I be honored to be counted amongst that elite group?” he teased. Never had Bastian been included in anything so private as a gathering of only friends and family. For years, he’d convinced himself that solitude was what he craved, time to evaluate and mull over everything transpiring around him: his father’s death, his mother’s grieving, what his future might hold. But now…now, Bastian thought being included in something special—rather than simply watching others partake—was a thing he might well enjoy.

He longed to ask Lady Chastity if the man who’d sent her the note would be in attendance at the private gathering, as well. But he held his tongue.