Page 3 of The Season of Lady Chastity

“Thank you, dear sister.” Chastity stared toward the open chest. “What of you? You will need an evening gown, too.”

Pru waved off her sister’s question. “I have a pale green muslin dress I’ve yet to wear. It will suit adequately.”

It had always amazed Chastity that her elder sister was so utterly content remaining on the fringes of society. While the latest crop of debutantes was being pranced and paraded about ballrooms and gardens all over London, Prudence embraced invisibility. She cared naught for dancing or introductions.

She strove to be everything but a successful debutante.

And, due to their closeness, Prudence assumed Chastity wanted the same. It was likely all the years they’d spent together, inseparable, bonded in a way most siblings never achieved. They’d lost their mother before either knew her. With their father’s remarriage, they had, in a way, lost him too—even though he was very much still alive.

Their brother, Triston, was everything Prudence and Chastity were not. He was handsome in a Greek demigod kind of way, or at least Triston’s wife, Edith, was fond of saying. Chastity had never met a man—nor woman, for that matter—who was not drawn to Triston. Despite the attention and fuss made around him, he was humble and kind. Most of all, he loved his younger sisters. So much so, that he’d been by their sides during their Season and had attended every ball, musicale, and afternoon in the park with them.

Never once had he pushed them to be anything they were not.

The trio had even found a spot of trouble now and again…and exposed their stepmother for the vile woman she was. Yet, that was before Triston had declared his love for Lady Edith—and many months before Lady Lucianna had met the Duke of Montrose.

Through Triston, Chastity had met Edith, her new sister-in-law, and Edith’s two bosom friends, Ophelia and Lucianna.

Since gaining an acquaintance with the young women, Chastity’s longing to do away with her wallflower ways had increased. She wished she had Luci’s coy smile, or Edith’s forward nature, or Ophelia’s adventurous spirit.

Their stay at Montrose’s country manor would give Chastity the freedom to be whom she wanted to be but on a fairly small scale. She was not ready to cause a stir before all of London; however, a few adventures at Oxburgh Hall could not hurt. She may come to realize she enjoyed it, or perhaps she’d find she loathed the change. Either way, Chastity was determined to explore who she could be.

She and Pru could not remain together always.

“Let us get that dress off you. The filth covering the room clings to it.” Prudence grasped the skirts of the blue gown and lifted it over Chastity’s head, a button briefly snagging on Chastity’s light brown curls and sending a sharp pain through her scalp.

She reached up and untangled her hair just as a piece of paper fluttered to the floor between her and Pru.

They both froze, staring at the slip of parchment.

They’d scoured the trunk many times when they were younger and had never noticed any papers tucked away within the folds of the gowns.

The object appeared to be a meticulously folded letter, the paper yellowed with age. Whatever was written on it did not show through the thick stationery.

“What do you think it is?” Prudence asked in a breathless whisper, her brown eyes meeting Chastity’s.

“I haven’t any notion.” But Chastity was going to find out. She leaned down and retrieved the paper, her hand trembling as she slowly unfolded the note. She scanned the page, shock coursing through her as she read the scrawling, decidedly feminine script. “It appears to be a letter of sorts—”

Prudence snatched the paper away, her eyes narrowing as she struggled to read in the dim light. After a brief moment, she stepped closer to the candelabra.

“What does it say?”

“It is mother’s handwriting. I would recognize it as the same from her stationary desk.” Prudence’s uneasy tone should have concerned Chastity, but instead, she pushed closer, excited at the prospect of seeing her mother’s handwriting and reading words she’d written. “This is peculiar.”

“Give it over,” Chastity demanded. The pair had only a handful of notes written by their mother—a modiste slip, a kitchen list, and a meal proposal for a dinner party their parents had hosted before Chastity’s birth.

“Do wait, I shall read it to you.” Prudence cleared her throat and began.

My dearest Cam.

My heart beats ever for you—and only for you. My very soul thrums with pure agony when you are not near. My fondest wish is for your desires to match my own. Despite my time away—dreadful as it was—it was only thoughts of you that saw me through our separation. If your heart finds life at the sight of me, I beg of you…meet me after the second cotillion. The terrace outside my father’s study. We shall, at last, be one this night, though it may be all we will ever know.

With all my love and utmost longing,

Clara

Chastity pressed her palms to her cheeks when they flamed with embarrassment at her mother’s written words. The note was meant to be private, and she could not escape the feeling that they’d stumbled upon a long-held secret.

Love. Desire. Longing.