Page 41 of The Season of Lady Chastity

Outwardly, she matched the other young women: finely tailored riding habit, matching hat set at a jaunty angle, and riding boots. However, the other females in the hunting party were at ease atop their horses, while Chastity dreaded tumbling from her perch.

“Confidence,” she whispered. Unfortunately, her mare had set a course to diminish Chastity’s poise before they’d even left the stable yard.

She’d been reckless in allowing Edith to convince her to join the hunting party.

Triston assisted Edith up onto her horse before smiling in Chastity’s direction and mounting his own stallion. Luci and Ophelia, their gentlemen close, did the same. A few others would accompany them into the fields bordering Montrose’s estate: the unpleasant Lord Comstock, Ruthven, and Liddell, as well as several older gentlemen Chastity didn’t know by name. They’d alluded to Lord Mansfield accompanying them, as well. And bloody hell, the mere mention of the man’s name had Chastity clamoring to join the group.

As the hunting party grew in number—four women and seven men—Bastian was nowhere to be seen. Had Lady Mansfield suffered another attack during the night? Chastity had paused outside the matron’s door on her way downstairs before breakfast, but she had been too nervous to knock. What if the woman didn’t remember her from the previous evening, or worse yet, was embarrassed and angry that Chastity had entered her private chambers without invitation?

No, instead of knocking, she’d hurried past Lady Mansfield’s room and down the main stairs.

She adjusted her seat once more, sending her mare sidestepping and tossing its great head. Chastity scanned the stable yard as the hound master brought the dogs from their pens beyond the main horse stables.

“Are you certain we are safe?” Chastity called to Edith.

Her sister-in-law nudged her black horse, moving in Chastity’s direction. “Of course. Besides, we are not actually hunting. I could not think of harming a poor fox. We shall simply ride alongside the men, or behind them if the hunt grows intense.”

The group going on a walk, with Prudence in their midst, started for the path that led away from the hunting party as one last couple made slow progress to join them.

Bastian—with Lady Mansfield on his arm.

The woman was nearly unrecognizable from the lady she’d witnessed in the throes of despair the night before. She wore a simple plum-colored walking dress with a shawl around her shoulders, and a bonnet atop her head. She leaned heavily on Bastian, but when she glanced toward the group in the stable yard, her cheeks held a healthy, rosy glow. Gone was the weakened woman with ashen skin, brought so low by the loss of her husband that Chastity could not begin to fathom the grief.

Lady Mansfield was like every regal matron Chastity and Prudence had met in

various London ballrooms during their Season. If it weren’t for Chastity having entered the woman’s private chambers the night before and seeing it for herself, she would never think Bastian’s mother plagued in such a way.

“Is everyone ready?” Montrose shouted above the clamor of hooves and chatter as two servants stood close, ready to release the hounds.

Chastity was in no way ready.

Being atop a horse, even a gentle mare, was not to her liking. And her beast—Serenity—had done nothing to live up to her name.

Chastity sent one final futile glance in Prudence’s direction, praying her sister would rescue her before they started out of the yard, but Pru was otherwise occupied, speaking to Lady Hawke’s grandmother. It was Bastian who caught Chastity’s eye, giving a small wave. Lady Mansfield noticed the greeting and brought her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun as she gazed in Chastity’s direction.

Chastity could only smile at the pair, fearing if she released her grip on the reins for even a moment, she’d be thrown from her horse. If the beast sensed her unease, she would be in trouble.

Focusing on the ground near the horse’s stomping feet, Chastity noticed the drop would not be too great. She couldn’t possibly sustain any permanent damage from a tumble from such a short distance. It would be easy, and perhaps even graceful if she simply slid from her sidesaddle to the earthen ground. The stable yard was well-maintained without an inch of muck—she might not even ruin her mother’s habit or topple her hat. It would be simple enough to fake a tender ankle and be released from the hunting party.

“Release the hounds,” Roderick shouted.

“Hold on, Chastity.” Edith bent close to her horse’s mane with a smile.

In the blink of an eye, the group of horses took off, moving like a herd. The sound of hoofbeats thundered from the stable yard, out around the gardens, and toward the moat—the horses keeping close pace with the hounds.

They’d not even reached the path leading to the countryside beyond or crossed the moat before her foot slipped from her stirrup, banging fruitlessly against the horse’s side as she tried to find purchase once again. The hounds veered left, their pace increasing as they traveled parallel to the stagnant water. Her thoughts of easily slipping from her saddle to the ground fled as the hard-packed earth flew by underneath her.

“Loosen your grip,” Luci shouted as she and Ophelia moved in beside her. “Give the beast her head.”

With the moat flanking Chastity on one side and Luci on the other, the last thing Chastity wanted to do was “give the beast her head.”

Chastity secured one ankle tightly as her other leg flopped uselessly at the beast’s side, pushing the mare ever closer to the moat.

Her heart beat so loudly, Chastity feared her horse could not only sense her fear but also smell it and hear it.

The cold winter morning air whipped at her face, but thankfully, her hat stayed pinned in place. The moat curved as it reached the far end of the garden, where she and Bastian had met, and Chastity could spy the walking group making their way down the path.

She might have no notion what she was doing atop a horse, but Chastity would rather perish than allow Bastian to see her ineptitude in the saddle. Chastity straightened her back and tucked her leg close to the horse, but doing so caused her hand to tug on the reins, and the mare to shake her head from side to side. Foam flung in every direction, and the movement sent Chastity leaning.