Page 36 of The Season of Lady Chastity

When he hesitated, Chastity clasped his hand and pulled him off the path and into the overgrown bushes; branches, and underbrush snapping at her dress and tickling her skin as they broke into a run.

“Who’s there?” Lord Ruthven called, his voice deep with only a slight quiver. “Show yourself.”

“Come, Ruthven, the stables are this way…”

Chastity did not glance over her shoulder to see if the men had spotted them; instead, she threaded through the greenery with Bastian in tow. Admirably, he kept pace with her, and within moments, they’d exited the garden on the south side of the house, the library doors within sight.

The hour was late, and only a dim light from a single candle shone through the plate glass doors as they hurried up the steps, pulled open the door, and rushed inside, the winter wind nipping at their heels.

“That was close,” Chastity giggled, her cheeks flushing but not with embarrassment or shame. With exhilaration.

They’d nearly been caught in a most compromising position.

Embracing, alone in the dark of night by Montrose’s moat.

Yet, it was no worse than if she were found out to be the love child of Lady Downshire—and a man certainly not her husband. Her exhilaration dimmed considerably at the thought; of what it meant for her and how it could affect her family and Bastian.

Chastity had no doubt that the young group of lords would have relished sharing the gossip far and wide when they returned to London.

“What was close?” Triston’s stern voice pierced the room, his question diminishing all merriment and wiping the grin from Chastity’s face. “Lord Mansfield. Chastity.”

The color drained from Bastian’s face as quickly as her own smile vanished.

“My dear brother.” Chastity turned, her eyes scanning the room for Triston, settling not only on her brother but on Roderick and Colin, as well. “Your Grace, Lord Hawke, a pleasure to see you both. Whatever are you doing sitting in the dark?”

Roderick chuckled, and Colin stared into the tumbler held tightly in his hand. Neither man met Chastity’s eye from where they sat in a trio of matching chairs.

“I could ask you the same thing; however, I prefer to address the inquiry to Lord Mansfield.” Triston set his drink aside and pushed to his feet, his immense height and bulk something that sent many men cowering. “Tell me, my lord, what were you and my sister—my young, innocent, untarnished sister—doing outside alone after dark?”

Chastity wanted to demand that Triston mind his own business and leave her to her own devices. She did not need nor want another Prudence in her life. Neither did she want the shadow of her brother’s protectiveness to taint the memory of her first kiss and the resulting euphoria of it.

To her surprise, Bastian stepped forward and lifted his chin. His build was not close to matching her brother’s large frame, but that did not seem to deter him. “Lord Torrington”—he glanced past Triston to his companion and their host—“Montrose, Hawke. Good evening. I accompanied Lady Chastity to the moat to collect her forgotten book.”

Triston made a show of glancing up and down both Chastity’s and Bastian’s forms before responding. “And where, pray tell, is the book?”

Chastity clasped her hands before her, unwilling to allow her brother to intimidate her. “I fear I could not locate it.” She glanced at Roderick, readied to perpetuate the fib she’d told Bastian to give them a few moments of privacy. “My apologies, Your Grace. I borrowed a book from your library and forgot it outside yesterday. Now, I cannot locate it. I will journey out tomorrow morning at first light to scour the garden path.”

“You have been out in the cold with only Mansfield’s evening jacket to keep you warm?” Triston’s hardened stare swung back to Bastian. “And you allowed this, sir?”

“I assure you, Lord Torrington,”—Bastian’s tone was even and as stern as her brother’s—“I would never allow any harm to come to Lady Chastity. We were outside but for a few brief moments.”

Never had anyone risen to the point of challenging Triston, and Chastity much enjoyed Bastian putting her brother in his place.

And asserting himself.

“Chastity, Prudence was asking after you not long ago.” Triston’s hands remained relaxed at his sides, but her brother was fooling no one. “I think you should find her and retire for the night.”

A sharp rebuff was on the tip of her tongue, but Bastian spoke before Chastity could speak past the lump in her throat.

“Lady Chastity, Torrington is correct.” Bastian met her questioning gaze. “It is late, and there are many activities planned for tomorrow. I will bid you good eve.”

She was stunned into silence by his accord with Triston.

Bastian—her dearest Bastian—was supposed to side with her against all others.

Yet, she knew with certainty Lord Mansfield did not belong to her, and neither did she belong to him.

They’d shared a kiss—her first kiss and an embrace she’d remember forevermore—but he was not hers.