Chapter 10

10

The next day, Chastity stepped into the garden, the emerald fabric of her new gown rustling against her skin. As she walked, fine gravel crunching under her shoes, she resisted the urge to scratch at her arms, the unfamiliar texture setting her nerves on edge. With each breath, the corset seemed to constrict further, though she knew it was no tighter than usual. She tugged at it discreetly, willing herself to regain her composure.

The lawn stretched out before her, transformed into an archery field. The air smelled wonderful, like freshly cut grass, flowers, and greenery. Bees and flies fitted about as she walked across the spacious lawn flanked by ancient oaks and trimmed hedges towards the gathering of Pryde’s guests and the footmen who circled offering refreshments. The group was spread out at some distance from the targets, filling the air with polite murmurs and occasional laughter.

As Chastity came within a few yards of the group, their chatter slowed and then stopped completely, every head turning in her direction. She caught Lord Wardbury’s gaze as it skimmed over her, then his head snapped back and he stared.

Lady Virtoux’s mouth fell open, her fan freezing mid-flutter, then she leaned over to someone and began whispering. The attention of many gentlemen rested upon Chastity, their appreciative glances feeling like needles pricking her skin. Patience, Pryde, and Fortyne looked at her with pride and compassion. She felt supported.

But it was Lucien’s look, full of some meaning, some longing she couldn’t decipher, that set her on fire.He stood next to Lady Osborn, who was clinging to him like ivy to a wall.

“Ah, Lady Chastity, welcome,” said Pryde. “I think our company is now complete. In the spirit of a fun and entertaining house party, let’s do something different today. Instead of individual competitors, we shall divide into teams!” He held up three fingers. “Each team will consist of two gentlemen and one lady, ten teams in total.” He looked at Chastity and the other female guests. “Of course, my dear ladies, participation is entirely voluntary. For those who prefer to observe, a splendid picnic awaits, complete with the finest refreshments. The winning team shall receive three golden arrow brooches, crafted by Philip Rundell himself. A fitting trophy, wouldn’t you agree?”

Pryde lifted one of the brooches, and the golden arrow caught the late afternoon sun, the glinting light blinding Chastity for a moment. Even though the brooch was beautiful, Chastity knew exactly what she’d do if her team won—she’d donate it to Dr. Sterling to support the clinic, so more patients like little Stella and gruff but protective Bill could get the help they needed. Excited whispers rippled through the crowd as people began to eye potential teammates, and Chastity clutched her hands nervously. What would she do if Lord Wardbury was on her team?

Chastity went to stand by Patience’s side. “You look absolutely marvelous, like Artemis, the goddess of the hunt,” Patience said.

“I couldn’t feel less like a goddess,” murmured Chastity as she watched people forming teams. “Though I do welcome the idea of a little exercise. I used to love archery growing up.”

Patience giggled. “I’m afraid I’ll be a burden to my team as we never had the means for archery in my family. But fear not! I shall contribute to my team’s efforts in the most ladylike way possible—by chattering incessantly and distracting our opponents. Perhaps I’ll even swoon dramatically if our chances look dire.”

After the raffle was done, Chastity was assigned to the same team as Captain Harrington and Mr. Audley.Captain Harrington wore a navy tailcoat, the gold braids of his uniform gleaming. His cravat was a stark white, folded with military precision. He glanced at her, a slight nod acknowledging their enforced proximity.

Right next to them, Lucien was assigned to a team with Lord Wardbury and Lady Osborn, who reminded Chastity of a hungry cat, wrapping itself around a male leg to beg for some petting or milk.

As the teams received their bows and arrows, the guests sat at the picnic behind them.

“Would you like to go first, Captain?” asked Mr. Audley. “Clearly, your military experience is our advantage.”

“Very well,” said Captain Harrington. “Unless Lady Chastity would like to take the first spot?”

“No,” she said. “Mr. Audley’s right. By all means, do start.”

He took his position. Next to him, Lord Wardbury also took his position. Lucien was deep in conversation with Lady Osborn,stunning in her pale pink gown, and still clinging to him. Her head was turned slightly to him as she talked. Despite herself, Chastity’s ears were trained on Lady Osborn, and she could hear her speaking of opera, and a ballroom, and horse rides. Something about her attentions towards Lucien made a snakelike cold twist in Chastity’s gut. She should be glad, should she not? She and Lucien were competitors, rivals in the bet. Would it not be in her own interest if Lucien were to give in to his carnal sin?

Lord Wardbury looked at Chastity with some consideration, and she felt her cheeks warm. Was she reallyattracting his male attention?

The archers found their places along the line, pulled their bowstrings, and, at Pryde’s signal, let their arrows fly.The captain’s arrow flew in a great arch across the field together with nine others and hit the black circle of the target. The captain had a proud look on his face. Lord Wardbury cursed as his arrow struck the circle next out from the center target.

The captain and Lord Wardbury continued their shots, with varying degrees of success. The first round concluded, and Pryde and his footmen walked to each of the targets to record the scores. As they waited for the scores to be tallied, Chastity felt an itch as the uncomfortable lull in conversation grew heavy among the three of them.

Thinking of targets, Chastity reminded herself that Captain Harrington was the perfect training target to practice conversation with men. She remembered Lucien’s advice: Ask questions. Keep asking questions. Do not interrogate.

She cleared her throat, but too loudly, attracting several glances, including one from Mr. Audley, who was standing three steps away with a dreamy expression… And from Lucien, who, to her surprise, was scowling and looked quite displeased. Must be because his team had just missed.

Must be.

“Captain Harrington, that was an excellent shot. Do you practice much archery in the navy?” she asked.

Captain Harrington looked at her, appearing a little puzzled but relieved. He leaned his bow against a chair. “Not archery specifically, no. Shooting muskets, that sort of thing.”

“Indeed,” she said.

Mr. Audley’s eyes were on her, showing some kind of curiosity. She could ask him something, too, she supposed, but she should continue asking questions of the captain for the moment. “What made you join the navy?”

“I’ve always had a love of the sea. The navy seemed like the perfect way to combine my passion with serving my country.”

She wanted to say she never cared much for the sea as she grew up quite far away from the coast in Oxfordshire, but she remembered to keep asking questions. “Did you grow up on the coast? Or, if not, where does your love of the sea come from?”

He chuckled. “Indeed I did, in Suffolk.”

She wanted to say she’d never been or try to remember what she knew about Suffolk. No, the purpose of this exercise was to show an interest in him. “What has been your most memorable voyage so far?”

Suddenly, he became quite animated. Gone was a strict expression from his ruggedly handsome features. “West Indies during a hurricane was quite the experience. The waves looked as high as mountains, and the wind howled like a beast.”

A chill ran down Chastity’s spine as she imagined having to navigate through a hurricane and being responsible for the lives of the crew. “How terrifying that must have been! How did you manage to keep your crew safe?”

Captain Harrington’s face grew serious. “You must think quickly and trust your gut. I had to make some difficult decisions, but in the end, we made it through without a single casualty, thanks to the bravery and skill of my crew.”

Chastity nodded. “I daresay. They were most fortunate to be under your command.”

Captain Harrington looked at her with a new sort of appreciation, a slow smile on his lips. “Thank you, Lady Chastity.”

She felt his gaze linger on her face, felt the weight of his attention. She quickly glanced at Lucien, who was now glaring at Captain Harrington with what might be suspicion. Lady Osborn kept chatting, turned with her ample bosom toward him.

But Chastity couldn’t let Lucien distract her. She had to keep going, to learn the new skill. The hypothesis that asking questions would more fully engage one’s conversation partner was proving to be correct. She needed to show more interest, and luckily, it was genuine.

She smiled at Captain Harrington, meeting his attentive blue eyes. “West Indies… I’ve never been away from England. What are the West Indies like?”

“Lush. Breathtaking. The colors of the sea and the sky were unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. It was like stepping into a painting. In fact”—he looked her over—“the shade of your gown reminds me of the emerald waters of the Caribbean in some places. It’s a sight one never forgets.”

Chastity felt a warm flush rise to her cheeks. Was that a compliment? From a male? “What a lovely comparison, Captain,” she managed. “Thank you.”

His eyes were still on her, now with a more personal expression, the sharp lines softening around his eyes, and his mouth easing into a gentle curve. “Just like your gown, the beauty there is captivating and unforgettable.”

Chastity smiled, feeling a flutter of something she hadn’t expected—perhaps the start of a connection with the captain. The experiment was truly beginning to yield favorable outcomes. All she had done was encourage him to talk about himself. And by doing that, she’d managed to interest him in her… An odd contradiction. And yet, it worked.

In the meantime, Pryde announced that the second archers should prepare to shoot, and Mr. Audley walked past Chastity and the captain to take his position. He was a shorter man than the captain and Lucien, yet he didn’t show any lack of confidence.

“Captain,” Mr. Audley said, “isn’t it interesting how we all have our strengths and weaknesses?”

Captain Harrington frowned. “I suppose, though no gentleman likes to admit his shortcomings.”

“True. And yet, while someone’s physique and bravery may be commendable, their manner of expression may be lacking.”

Chastity blinked.

The captain frowned. “Whatever do you mean, sir?”

Mr. Audley loosed his arrow together with the nine other competitors. It barely hit the target and was stuck at the edge.

“Clearly, my shortcoming is my archery skills,” he chuckled as he looked at Captain Harrington with his eyes hooded. “And clearly that is your strong suit. Along with battling hurricanes in the open sea, of course.”

Captain Harrington cleared his throat. “Pray tell, what is my shortcoming, then?”

Mr. Audley nocked another arrow to his bowstring and aimed. Pryde gave the signal, and his arrow flew—straight past the target and into the bushes behind.

“Poetry. Metaphors.” He looked at Chastity and smiled. “Comparing Lady Chastity’s gown to the sea of the Caribbean is a cliché. It’s expected. There’s no finesse about it.”

The captain’s face reddened. “Right. I suppose I had no time to read poetry while fighting Napoleon’s troops and sea pirates.”

“I suppose you did not.” Mr. Audley’s eyes slowly wandered over Chastity. “This gown and this lady deserve a much finer metaphor. Because, if I am correct, there’s much more to see about Lady Chastity than meets the eye.”

Chastity felt her cheeks flush as she looked into Mr. Audley’s brown eyes.

“Lady Chastity, if you’ll pardon my observation, there’s something rather remarkable about you. It’s as though you’ve undergone a subtle transformation since the party began. Your presence today is…quite captivating. I daresay, you’ve blossomed into quite the conversationalist. I find myself intrigued and would be honored to hear more of your thoughts on…well, any subject.”

Chastity was very aware of Lucien’s scrutinizing appraisal of her and of the two men who stared at each other.

Was she the reason for their sudden fury at each other? No, surely not.

“A mysterious transformation.” Mr. Audley looked her over again with a strange intensity. “So mysterious. So fleeting. An obscure duckling became a swan.”

Chastity could not stop a hot onrush of embarrassment. A swan? Heavens, Lucien certainly knew his craft—all that just because she wore a pretty dress and asked a few questions?

“I find myself wondering what other surprises Lady Chastity might unveil. She reminds me of the goddess Persephone, emerging from the underworld.” He paused, his gaze appreciative but respectful. “Just as Persephone’s return heralds the spring, Lady Chastity’s presence seems to breathe new life into our gathering. That is what such a vibrant color as emerald represents. Spring. An awakening.”

There was a strange sound coming from somewhere in Lucien’s direction, like choking or a growling. Chastity frowned towards him, but he narrowed his eyes at Mr. Audley like he was going to shoot him.

Lord Wardbury watched them with interest, as well, though there was no malice in his eyes.

“I suppose a goddess of spring is a fitting metaphor,” said the captain, looking a little defeated.

“Er, thank you, Mr. Audley,” she said, her mind galloping about to look for a question. Yet another man with whom to train her skills. She already felt like she understood this game, but she needed to practice. “Are you interested in metaphors?”

Pryde announced the next round of shots, and Audley nocked his arrow to the bowstring.

With the next attempt, his arrow managed to lodge in the space between the center of the target and the edge. His best shot so far.

“I am very interested in metaphors,” he said as he turned to her. “I am a poet. And an inventor.”

Chastity felt a smile tug at her lips. Both of these things were topics she could genuinely talk to him about, and she wouldn’t need to pretend any interest.

A sharp crack drew her attention, and she turned her head.

Lucien stood rigid, his jaw clenched and eyes blazing. Bits of larkspur and fragmented sprigs of lavender protruded from his fist. Stalks of wheat lay snapped and scattered at his feet, mingling with fallen leaves of rosemary and thyme, their scents pungent in the air. The debris had once been the floral arrangement that had stood on his team’s table.

What in the world was he doing glaring at her like she’d done something wrong when all she had done all day long was follow his guidance?

And she was succeeding! Was this not the purpose of his help?

Suddenly, the truth dawned upon her. That must be precisely the case.

When he thought she didn’t have a chance at a proposal, he would help her all day long. And now when, for the first time, she seemed to have a genuine chance at, if not securing a proposal, then at least finding a suitor, he was mad?

The audacity of the man!

She would win the bet and prove him wrong.

She turned back to Mr. Audley and smiled. And she didn’t have to fake the interest in her voice at all, because she read poetry every day. In fact, she had thought a long time ago that a poem would help Lucien, maybe even save him. But he had never mentioned the special poem she had folded into a star and pressed into his hand when they were children. It was as though she had never even tried. As if it meant nothing to him.

“Who is your favorite poet, Mr. Audley? And I’d love to hear all about your inventions.”

And when Mr. Audley’s eyes warmed on her, she thought that she might well have awakened on the first day of spring—because as she talked about poetry, she felt not a trace of shyness, awkwardness, or insecurity.

All she felt was joy.