Page 54 of The Season of Lady Chastity

“No, Father.”

“May I request the next set?” Comstock stepped forward.

It was obvious that the men only sought to please Chastity’s father—and they were doing a marvelous job of it.

Her father laughed, “Of course, of course.”

Chastity quickly scribbled Ruthven’s and Comstock’s names on her card but filled the remaining spaces before Liddell could inquire. Two dances were all she was willing to promise to the group of blackguards.

She felt extremely self-conscious of her plunging neckline and Ruthven bending over her offered hand, his nose mere inches from her bodice.

For not the first time, she searched the room for a hint of Bastian or his mother, but the pair was still missing.

She’d longed to step out of the shadows, away from the fringes of the ballroom, but she’d never thought it possible. Now, here she was with two gentlemen on her dance card yet longing for the only man who’d made her feel truly special.

Prudence was correct.

Chastity cared for the Earl of Mansfield.

She desired more than a mere courtship from Bastian.

She longed to be in his arms again, sitting along the path by the water’s edge, deep in conversation or exchanging witty banter with him. Chastity would even take lying in the freezing moat again if only Bastian were with her as she did so.

Chapter 15

“This is absurd,” his mother huffed, lifting her chin as the opal stitched into her cap glistened in the light cast from the wall sconce. “I am not an invalid and shan’t be treated as such.”

Bastian held the single door open, waiting for her to enter the ballroom as the sounds of music, laughter, and conversation escaped the room. “Doc Durpentire explicitly stated that it would be prudent not to overexert yourself.”

Instead of walking into the ballroom, she remained in the corridor, and her hands landed on her hips. The pose transported Bastian back to a time long ago before his family was torn apart and his mother’s body had been left ravished. As a child, he hadn’t been so quick to follow the rules and listen to direction. He’d taken risks, snuck a nip of brandy once, and even eavesdropped on his father’s important business meetings. He’d been reprimanded swiftly and severely.

“Come now,” he placated. “You begged to come, and here we are.”

“Bypassing the receiving line and slipping in through a side door as if we do not belong…like a pair of sneak-thieves?”

“You know it is not that,” he argued.

His mother’s stare sparked with indignation. “Then what?”

“The stairs.” Why must she insist on him saying it aloud? Bastian turned toward the music drifting from the ballroom and out into the hall, embarrassed at his admission. “I do not wish for you to become overtired.”

“I am not a child to be coddled, Mansfield.” Her tone hardened as she attempted to hide her disappointment.

Manny, the mama’s boy.

The age-old taunt played over and over in his mind.

Yet, if their time at Oxburgh Hall had taught Bastian anything, it was that his mother was more than capable of caring for herself. Perhaps she hadn’t been before, but now…things were different. She was different. It was almost as if a distance were growing between them; their relationship moving from them being dependent on one another, back to the mother and son rapport they had before his father had taken ill. It was only Bastian who clung to what his mother might no longer need from him—or want.

Bastian smiled reassuringly. “I promise not to coddle you, Mama.”

She patted his cheek. “Very good. Shall we join the celebration?”

Her easy switch in demeanor threw him off guard. She’d been upset with him, and then not. He couldn’t escape the nagging memory that such mood changes usually predicated an attack.

However, he’d promised not to coddle her, and would not ask after her health for the evening.

His anticipation of seeing Chastity after missing the ceremony that morning only grew by the moment. He’d been relieved when the doctor had sent word that his mother could attend the ball.