Page 40 of The Season of Lady Chastity

“I fear we were unsuccessful at locating the book; however, we do plan to return to the moat in the morning for another look.”

Lady Lucianna sent a smile in Lady Torrington’s direction.

“I am certain you did not spend much time scouring the area for the book.” Lady Chastity’s sister-in-law managed to make the comment sound completely natural. “Besides, it was dark and cold. Chapman said you left without a lantern or Lady Chastity’s cloak.”

Could the ladies have been spying on them from an upstairs window? There was no other explanation for their conspiratorial glances and veiled comments.

“We should be getting back to work,” Lady Hawke announced, surveying the bare banister. “We need to be up and dressed early for our outing.”

“I can assist you—”

“Heavens no, Lord Mansfield.” Lady Lucianna shook her head and pointed up the stairs. “Roderick would never forgive me if I kept you away from your chambers until late into the night. Besides, we have only the main staircase to finish, and I have no intention of being visible when Lord Ruthven and his cohorts return. My father may find Ruthven’s sire a friendly companion—and therefore, Ruthven a notable business partner—but I most certainly do not. I am still puzzled about why they were invited at all; however, angering my father even more is not a task I relish.”

“Are you certain I cannot be of assistance?” Bastian asked politely, though his eyes strayed to the landing above and the promised solitude of his own chambers—and away from the woman’s candid talk of Ruthven. It was reassuring to hear that their opinions on his old schoolmates were in alignment.

Lady Lucianna shook her head and turned to Lady Hawke as she measured a length of twine.

“Good evening, ladies.” Bastian bowed to the trio and started up the stairs for the second time.

“Lord Mansfield,” Torrington’s wife called after him. He paused, looking back at the woman. “We would much enjoy your company tomorrow. We have a fox hunt planned.”

“I think I best remain with my mother.”

“Lady Chastity will certainly participate.” Lady Lucianna offered the morsel of information without bothering to look up at him. “She will need a partner.”

Lady Torrington awaited Bastian’s reply with obvious expectation.

Chastity hadn’t mentioned the upcoming excursion, but he was not one to disappoint others, especially a woman. “Will Lady Prudence not be joining her?”

“I do believe Pru is going with my mother and her friends for a walk before the weather grows too cold.” Lady Lucianna waved for Lady Torrington, who hurried to her friend’s side with a large red bow. “I can assure you, the hunt will be far more invigorating.”

“Good evening, my lord,” Lady Hawke said as the trio set to work in earnest on the banister.

Bastian retrieved his jacket and climbed the stairs on his way to his mother’s chamber, which he knew was only two doors down from Lady Chastity’s room. In another life, he might be so bold as to continue past his mother’s closed door until he stood before Chastity’s and knocked. She would answer, likely already attired for bed in a white nightshift, her golden-brown hair tucked up under a sleeping cap with a candle in her hand. The glow from the single light would give him the illusion that he could peek through her thin, cotton nightgown.

But he would not let on that he noticed.

She would invite him inside, and he would ask after her plans for the next day. Did she fancy a walk with Lady Camden and her friends or did she desire a more invigorating excursion such as a fox hunt? Whatever her reply, he would confirm it mirrored his own plans. They would laugh softly, marveling at how aligned their interests were. Perhaps they would go so far as to speak of seeing one another when they returned to London for a carriage ride or the opera. A dinner party he’d host at his townhouse and invite all his friends to. Eventually, they’d bid one another goodnight, and he’d be so bold as to place a kiss on her cheek. But Chastity would be one step ahead of him, and she’d turn at the last moment…and their lips would meet as they had by the Oxburgh moat.

Bastian stood outside his mother’s bedchamber door, staring off down the corridor, grasping his coat.

He was not bold.

He was not the dashing and handsome Torrington. Or the mysterious and dark Montrose. Or even the reserved, bookish Lord Hawke.

Never would he be the debonair lord who threw caution to the wind, the one who forgot his responsibilities long enough to pursue what his heart longed for.

If his mother were well in the morning, he would escort her on the walk with Lady Camden and her friends. His mother would enjoy the outing after remaining in her room for two days.

And Bastian would never let on that his mind was focused on another.

Chapter 11

Chastity nodded to the livery footman, praying no one around her noticed her tightly clenched fists as her mare moved uneasily beneath her unlevel position, and she gripped the reins for dear life. Her fine blue riding habit, another garment taken from her mother’s trunk and altered to fit current fashions, was bunched beneath her, making the sidesaddle seat uneven. The late morning sun was only now peeking out from behind the abundant clouds that’d moved in sometime during the long night. The winter snow was coming, though Chastity hoped it held off until her father arrived for the wedding. She looked about the stable yard, meeting Prudence’s grin where she stood with several matronly women and a few gentlemen who were certainly not accompanying them on their hunt. Her sister would remain close to Oxburgh Hall with Luci’s mother, Ophelia’s grandmother, and several others who were too old for the hunt.

Chastity supposed it was retaliation, of sorts, for Chastity leaving her sister to ride into the village the previous day while Chastity met with Lady Camden.

Chastity attempted to appear at ease in her sidesaddle, but neither she nor Pru had spent much time on horseback as they preferred using their father’s carriage when they were forced to promenade at the park—and riding about busy London proper was dangerous for any woman who was not accomplished on an equine.