Page 29 of The Season of Lady Chastity

Chastity nodded. “Good evening, Lady Mansfield. I hope to see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, dear.”

It was as if nothing she’d witnessed only moments before had transpired.

Lady Mansfield sipped at her tea before accepting her book from Bastian and nestling in on her side on the bed.

“I will wait in the hall,” Chastity said.

The maid turned to depart as well, and Chastity followed the servant into the hall, pleased to see that Bastian’s mother’s sobbing hadn’t brought any other guests closer to investigate.

Bits and pieces of Bastian’s whispered pleas for his mother to rest and consider leaving for London the next day drifted to Chastity in the corridor.

She did not want Bastian and his mother to leave Oxburgh Hall. Not yet, at least. She’d been so preoccupied with the mystery surrounding her mother’s dearest Cam she hadn’t found the time to explore the unexplainable draw between her and Bastian.

Walking down the hall, she pivoted and moved back toward Lady Mansfield’s open chamber door. She did not want Bastian to think she eavesdropped on their private conversation, despite her entering the room without invitation earlier.

He hurried from the room, looking left and swinging his gaze to the right where she stood.

“Lord Mansfield.” She took a step toward him. “I had no intention of overstepping propriety. Your mother…I thought I could help.”

If she could convince Bastian she meant no harm, that she truly believed she could help, perhaps he’d remain.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and exhaled. Not in disappointment or disapproval but in relief. His gaze met hers, and for the first time in a long while Chastity felt as if she’d done something right—that she’d managed to stave off disappointing another.

His lips pressed into a grim line as he appeared to collect his thoughts.

“Bastian, I—”

He shook his head, halting another apology. “I am grateful for your help.”

“You are?” The relief she saw in his eyes coursed through her.

“I am,” he conceded.

“What happened?” Chastity wanted to take the question back the second it passed her lips. Details about Lady Mansfield and her affliction was not Chastity’s business. “Again, I apologize. I do not mean to intrude.”

Bastian turned away from her, and Chastity feared he would return to his mother’s chambers without another word, but after several paces, he pivoted back toward her. “My mother has been burdened with these—attacks—of confusion and disorientation since my father’s passing. I thought—misguidedly it seems—that she was improving. That coming to Oxburgh Hall would help her. I am a fool.” He ran his fingers through his hair, the locks becoming as wayward and wild as his mother’s.

“You are not a fool, Bastian.”

He turned a hard look on her, and Chastity suppressed the urge to recoil. “You do not know me well enough to make such a claim, my lady.”

His words stung far worse than his crushing stare. Despite their short acquaintance, Chastity believed she knew something of the man—far more than she knew of anyone else in residence but her sister anyway.

“You should return downstairs before your absence is noticed,” he said, waving her off.

“It would appear you know little of me, as well,” Chastity retorted. “I care nothing of the opinions of others.”

“You should, for your own sake and future.”

Chastity laughed, a sorrowful, injured chuckle. “As you do, my lord? You allow Comstock, Ruthven, and their counterparts to tease you mercifully, yet speak nothing of why you remain ever close to your mother.”

“My mother, and our hardships, is no one’s business.” He glanced at the rug under his boots. “I will never open my mother to ridicule and cruel jests for my own gain. Those men can make light of me all they want, but I will not betray my mother.”

“I understand that.” And she did. It was the reason she kept her mother’s secret. Her own secret, if she were being honest. Chastity would never be the reason her mother’s memory was tarnished or her propriety called into question, even if to fulfill Chastity’s own needs.

“Do you?” His hands dropped from his pockets and hung open at his sides as the fight seemed to drain from him. “Because, sometimes, I do not understand why I continue as I do. How I make it through each day without giving up hope for a brighter tomorrow.”