Page 47 of The Season of Lady Chastity

Chastity would speak the truth, her truth.

Her sister, nearly her twin, scrutinized her even more.

Something had changed within Chastity. Had been changing for some time if she were honest, but it was as if Prudence were only noticing it now.

“You care for Lord Mansfield,” Pru said the words as if they were the deepest, darkest sin. A betrayal.

No part of Chastity felt that her attraction to Bastian was wrong or a betrayal of any kind.

“He has changed you—for the worse,” Prudence hissed. “Caused a distance between us that we promised never to allow. It has always been you and I—against Esmee, our father, the ton.”

Chastity shook her head, denying Prudence’s claims. “I have changed, yes, but not because of Bastian.”

“The letter then?” Pru snapped. “That foolish, irrelevant letter. I should have taken it and burned it before we read it.”

“Nothing about our mother and her life could be foolish or irrelevant.” Chastity’s heart hardened more and more with each word. The one person she’d always thought to stand not behind her but beside her was determined to chastise Chastity for finding something—someone—who made her heart soar. “She should be celebrated, not buried and forgotten.”

“What if you discover your father is Dearest Cam?” Prudence demanded. “What then? Will you share with Lord Mansfield your illegitimate birth? Our mother’s faithlessness, and your adulation of her?”

Chastity had thought of little else since finding the letter. It was likely why she’d not dedicated herself to discovering more: about her mother, the missive, and her past. She wanted nothing more than to learn everything, but fear of how it would change her life, her sister’s life, and her family had kept her from the task. Had she been fooling herself? Her determination to live life in a manner more fitting of a lady had been a ruse she’d never wholly embraced. But what of the draw between her and Bastian? That was something true—and pure.

Bastian was true and pure. He had no reason not to be.

“None of that matters, not to me or to Bastian.” Even as the words passed her lips, she knew she could not know this. Not truly. Bastian had shared some of his past with her, but Chastity hadn’t done the same with him, in any regard.

Prudence scoffed and crossed the room to stand before Chastity, remaining silent as she stripped the wet gown from her sister’s body and flipped her around to unlace her underpinnings. Chastity froze as her sister cared for her. Next, Pru rolled down her stockings and unlaced her boots. It was Prudence’s way, scolding one moment and caring for Chastity the next. This push and pull between them had become startlingly apparent to Chastity over the last several months, yet she’d missed the signs that Prudence had taken notice, as well.

The more Chastity strived for independence, the more Prudence had latched on to her.

It was only after the wet clothing had been stripped away that the cold set in—as did the meaning behind her sister’s actions, or at least the budding of understanding.

“Do you not ever long to wed, Pru?” Chastity whispered, her head hanging.

“No, as you well know.” Prudence tensed with her answer.

“What of a family?”

“I have you, Father, and Triston.” Prudence lifted Chastity’s feet one by one and removed her boots, gently setting them on the floor next to the discarded blanket. “We are well taken care of and beholden to no one. We can do what we want, travel where we want, and explore whatever hobby we enjoy. I need nothing more.”

Chastity felt a raw stab of guilt, not for doing what brought her happiness, but for never pushing them to do it together. If they’d both applied themselves like other young debutantes their age, they might have both met gentlemen to their liking—or at the very least discovered what brought them each happiness and pleasure, including the sense of adventure that Chastity longed for.

“What if I do need more?” Chastity wrapped her arms around herself, pressing her damp shift to her skin. “Will I disappoint you?”

“I’d rather you tell me than go about hiding it from me.” Prudence stood, lifting her chin but holding Chastity’s gaze. Their eyes were identical. Their height nearly equal. But beyond that, they were two distinct women.

Different.

Individual.

And that was something to celebrate, not mourn.

“I still love you, Pru. I will always love you and be by your side.” Chastity owed her sister that much—reassurance. Perhaps it was the unknown that kept her sister from seeking out her own happiness, while it was that same mystery Chastity craved. “You will always have me. No matter where our futures lead us, we are sisters…no one can take that away, and I will never give it up.”

Just as Chastity was struggling, so had Prudence—and Chastity had been too distracted to notice. The more Chastity changed and her feelings of being stifled increased, the more Prudence held on. Their connection had weakened to the point of nearly breaking, and Chastity hadn’t realized it was Prudence’s insecurities that fed her need to hold so tightly to Chastity, not Chastity’s longings for change. If Chastity discovered they did not share a father, what would that mean for them? Chastity would have something—possibly a whole new something—that her sister, the closest person to her, could never be a part of.

Family. Identity. Future.

“I cannot lose you,” Prudence whispered.