Chapter 8

8

“Chastity,” Lucien said, feeling slightly out of breath as he chased after her.

Chastity, who had been sitting on a carved chair, rose abruptly, turned her back to him, and laid her hand on the door handle about to flee.

“Wait,” he said.

The chamber was cool and shadowed compared to the glaring sunlight outside. The absence of a breeze caused perspiration to bead upon Lucien’s skin. The sitting room was large and opulent, one of those elegant chambers in an enfilade, each room leading gracefully to the next. Gilt-framed paintings and portraits adorned the walls. Along one wall stood a series of glass-fronted cabinets, each housing carefully curated historical artifacts. A Roman gladius, Greek pottery, Egyptian scarabs, and a Celtic torc.

He couldn’t see her face, and she didn’t say anything. Lucien’s chest felt tight. Of course he felt bad for her—they had grown up together. And leaving in the middle of the game, chasing after her in front of everyone…well that was just him being a good friend.

He walked closer and stopped half a step away. His hands rose to take her by the shoulders, turn her to him, and bring her to his chest, but if anyone found them like that, she’d be compromised.

So he hovered over her, held away from her by silly rules, while she stood with her head bowed, her shoulders slumped as she released a trembling breath.

“What happened?” he asked. “Clearly, you’re out of sorts.”

“Nothing that wouldn’t be expected,” she said. “I should not be allowed to speak in polite society. You were right to challenge me on this. I will never receive a marriage offer from anyone, let alone someone as respectable and perfect a gentleman as Lord Wardbury.”

Lucien let out a breath. He did not want any lord to call her his betrothed and especially not his wife, but he hated seeing her this way even more. He looked over his shoulder at the open door. No one was coming to ask him to return to the game. He laid his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her towards him.

“Gracious! You’re crying!” He cupped her face and wiped her tears with his thumbs. “Did someone say something to you?”

He brought her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. She wept in his arms, shuddering. He stroked her hair in its tight chignon, her back. He felt her tears wet through his shirt, her hot breath on his skin; her body felt so tiny in his arms.

His cock started to wake up. Blast, what was wrong with him? The woman was crying, and he was getting aroused?

He pressed his cheek against the top of her head, and now her scent was in his nostrils: vanilla…clean soap…and her, the delicate aroma that he could describe only as floral. His body was wrapped around hers, and he could feel her slight breasts. And if he really wanted…if she gave him any sign that she wanted it…he could lean down to her face and find her lips…

Lucifer. He really was a horny dog.

“What happened, Star?” he asked her.

She froze and looked up at him, and his heart broke at the sight of her red eyes, her runny nose, and the tears dampening her cheeks.

“You haven’t called me that for years,” she said softly.

“What are you talking about? You’ve always been my star. Brilliant. Bright. Born to shine.”

She bit her lip.

“When did I ever stop?” he asked, unable to look away from her eyes.

“You stopped after…” She trailed off, her eyes clouding with more sadness.

“After what?” he asked.

“After you kissed my governess.”

He blinked, struggling to remember. “Your governess?”

She nodded. “Miss Chinery.”

He winced. She tried to detach herself from him, but he didn’t let her go. “Ah. Miss Chinery. You saw that?”

“I did. You were eighteen. I was fourteen. I was a little in love with you, as one is with one’s older brother’s best friend.”

Had he heard her right? Impossible. Someone like her—ingenious, wise before her age, kind to her bone marrow, a tender soul who felt so deeply and loved poetry—could never love someone as rotten, shallow, and worthless as him.

His ears rang. “In love?” He burst out a bark of laughter. “With me?”

“Yes.” She wriggled her shoulders to get herself out of his embrace, but he only pulled her closer. “Why does it amuse you?”

He studied her. “You? With me ?” he repeated, waiting for her to admit that she was speaking in jest or being sarcastic.

“I was a stupid, naive girl. You did me a favor, disillusioning me from fruitless hopes. I was not in love with you after I saw that.”

That was not at all how he meant it. He opened his mouth to contradict her. Then closed it. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted to contradict. That her hopes were fruitless? That he did her a favor?

Or did he foolishly want to object to her not being in love with him anymore?

“You were never stupid, and you were never that naive. I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t know.”

He hadn’t known she was in love with him. He hadn’t known she had hopes…

“Would it have changed anything?” she asked, her sky-blue eyes like crystals, peering straight into his soul.

Would it have? Chastity had been part of him his whole life. Just like Dorian was his brother in every way but blood. He’d already gotten his education from his uncle, learned that loving was dangerous and that the only safe way to feel close to someone was through his body.

Sex.

“You were mistaken, Chastity. You couldn’t have been in love with me.”

She frowned. “Every woman in the ton is in love with you.”

His entire body ached at that. Finally, he let her go and stepped away. She did not look into his soul, after all, or she’d never have said that. “You’re mistaking lust for love, Star. There’s nothing to love about me.”

She scowled, then quickly wiped her cheeks. “Perhaps I am mistaken about love and lust, but I’m not mistaken about my feelings. And what nonsense saying there’s nothing to love about you.”

Of course she’d say that. He needed to shake off this bewilderment. The strange hope that burned in his chest at her confession. What good would it do, anyway? He walked towards the window and looked at the sunlit grounds with their perfectly cut green lawns and beautifully trimmed bushes that rolled back into hills and an idyllic little grove of trees. There was no one here on the northern side; everyone was still gathered at the picnic.

He needed to help her secure that proposal. Help her see the beautiful, appealing woman she truly was—a part of herself she had been rejecting for some silly reason. He would help her to stop suffering and stumbling in these social situations, which were as easy to him as breathing.

He couldn’t bear to see her in pain. Besides, if she won the bet, he’d be free to fuck.

With that delightful thought and a renewed optimism, he turned around to her.

Her clear, sad eyes were on him, her hands clutched together.

“The past is in the past, Star,” he said, walking to her. “I am what I am. You are what you are. But you can still change your future. I can’t watch you continue to suffer. Please, do let me help you.”

“I’m hopeless,” she said, spreading her arms. “I did try to find common ground with Lord Wardbury.”

“Well,” he said, slowly drawing closer, “you have more in common with him than with me, and yet, with me, you’re fearless. Why are you so afraid of him?”

She scoffed softly. “Because I’ve known you my entire life. There’s no time that I can remember when you didn’t exist. He…er… He’s perfect. Handsome, noble, the picture of a gentleman with influence and consequence. I’m…well…me.”

“Have you ever heard the expression ‘assume the manner until you possess the virtue’?”

“No. But assuming a manner one doesn’t possess doesn’t sound like a wise course to gain any virtue.”

“But it is. Here’s what you need to do. Rather than talk about yourself, ask questions about him. His research. His interests. Ask for details. Ask him to tell you more. Try to close your mouth whenever you have an urge to talk about yourself.”

She frowned. “Wouldn’t he feel interrogated?”

“He might. It depends on how you do it. Think of him as an interesting friend rather than someone important. Aren’t you genuinely curious about the man who might become your husband?”

She looked at her hands. “You’re right. I suppose all I kept thinking about was myself, my own aim, what he can do for me. Not what I can do for him…or who he even is as a person.”

Damnation. He was going to do this, was he not? Make Lord Wardbury see what a magnificent person Chastity was once one looked through the social awkwardness.

The vision of her delicate, regal form in a wedding dress, standing beside Lord Wardbury, noble and handsome, had the effect of a saber slicing through his gut.

And yet, he had to help her. It would kill him to see her with another man, but it would kill him even more to see another tear stain her face.

“Precisely,” he said. “And since you’re not completely sure how that works, why don’t you practice?”

“Practice?”

“Yes. Every skill grows with exercise. Like math and writing. Right now, you can calculate any numbers in your head, can you not?”

“I can.”

“But you needed to start somewhere, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“It’s the same.”

She frowned. “I thought one was born a certain way. Like you’re born to be sociable and pleasant. You thrive with people. I have always been more comfortable by myself. Behind my books and with a magnifying glass in my hand.”

“Even I had to learn to be pleasant and to enjoy the company of other people. This skill proves especially valuable when one’s companions are less than agreeable. Practice on other gentlemen first. On those you’re not interested in at all.”

She chuckled softly. “Like you?”

Damnation! That shouldn’t have hurt, but it did.

“Like me,” he confirmed, swallowing his pride. “Perhaps we might engage in a brief exercise. Shall we suppose I am Lord Wardbury for a moment?”

Chastity took a deep breath and straightened her posture. She looked at him with determination, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Lord Wardbury,” she began, her voice stiff and formal, “I find your work at St. Thomas’s Hospital to be…adequate. Please, tell me more about your latest research, and spare no detail.”

Lucien cringed at her mechanical tone and blunt wording. “As much as I see what you’re trying to do, darling, that was not a question.”

“Oh…” she said and winced. “I told you. Hopeless.”

“You’re a scientist. When you started working on your research, did every experiment result in success?”

She licked her lips. “No.”

“It’s just the same here. It’s only that your fears are stopping you. Try again, Star. Ask the same thing but frame it as a question.”

She nodded. “What are you working on in your current research, Lord Wardbury?”

Lucien leaned to her slightly and winked. “Excellent question.” Then he straightened his shoulders. “My current research focuses on improving surgical techniques to reduce post-operative infections. It’s a complex topic, but I’m passionate about making a difference in the lives of my patients.”

“That’s exactly what I’m researching. My study?—”

“Questions, remember?” whispered Lucien.

“Oh. Of course. Please, could you tell me more about it, Lord Wardbury?”

“Brava,” Lucien whispered, then took on a serious demeanor. “One of the most intriguing areas of recent scientific discovery is the isolation of new elements. I’ve been following the work of Monsieur Bernard Courtois, who recently discovered a fascinating substance called iodine. I believe it may have potential medicinal applications, though its properties are not yet fully understood.”

Chastity blinked, astonished. “Lucien, how do you know about iodine?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I read,” he said, and enjoyed the surprise on her face as she recognized her own words repeated back to her when she’d surprised him with her knowledge of intercourse. “You know my family has always supported medicine. One of the benefits is that we get sent all kinds of journals, letters, and requests for funding. Since medicine interested you, I found myself reaching out for some of those journals, too, as a boy.”

She paused. “Oh.”

Lucien chuckled. “I guess you don’t know everything about me, do you?”

“I suppose not.”

Chastity’s eyes widened, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other, the air between them charged and crackling. Then she blinked and laughed nervously, breaking the spell. “I believe that’s sufficient practice for the moment,” she said, breathless.

“Indeed,” said Lucien as he drew his fingers through his hair. “You have grasped the concept admirably. You absorb knowledge like a sea sponge. I’ve never known anyone who can learn as fast as you. What say you to advancing our practice to a more challenging level?”

“What do you mean?”

“Perhaps you might engage Mr. Audley and Captain Harrington in conversation. You have no interest in them, do you? So it matters not if you fail. Practice on them first, and when you feel confident, talk to Lord Wardbury.”

“Oh,” she said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What a splendid idea, Lucien! To practice in a safe environment before conducting the true experiment.”

“Precisely.”

Behind the door, he heard the voices of Dorian and the other Dukes of Sin. A brilliant idea struck him… He was on fire today. He hurried to the door. “But wait with your compliments before one more thing.”

He opened it and saw the six of them and Patience, walking towards the door with worried faces.

“Ah, there you all are. I need you in here. Come in.”

“Lucien?” asked Dorian, a deep scowl on his face. “Is Chastity in here?”

“She is,” he said as all of them passed by him and into the room. “And she needs your help.”

When they were all inside, Dorian hurried towards Chastity. “What happened? Patience said you took too much sun. Have you been crying?”

Patience hugged Chastity by the shoulders. “Darling, are you all right?”

She sighed. “I’m perfectly all right.”

“Why are the two of you alone?” Dorian demanded.

“Well,” said Lucien. “I…or rather, Chastity…needs your help. As you are no doubt aware, she is not the most…gregarious of individuals. So this house party is sometimes a little challenging for her.”

“Would you like me to arrange a carriage for you, darling?” asked Dorian gently as he searched Chastity’s eyes. “To return to Rath Hall?”

“No,” said Chastity and Lucien at the same time.

They locked eyes.

“That is,” said Lucien, “Lady Chastity is endeavoring to cultivate a more sociable demeanor. She’s trying to change. However, she has come with a limited wardrobe. So, she’s in need of a transformation. And, of course, as wonderful as the party is?—”

“She needs a new wardrobe, and quick,” finished Pryde for him, sighing in understanding. “There are no modistes for miles as skilled as those in London.”

“Perhaps some of my gowns would fit?” asked Patience helpfully. “Although, I’m afraid, I’m much shorter and bigger in…er…certain areas.”

All of the gentlemen’s eyes but Dorian’s were suddenly drawn to the beautiful ceiling in Pryde’s sitting room.

Dorian grunted approvingly as he looked at her bust. “You are,” he said.

“Besides, the duchess’s coloring is completely different,” said Lucien when he looked at Patience’s face and avoided dropping his gaze lower than her chin. “Her gowns would make Lady Chastity look washed out and pale. She needs jewel tones. Emerald green. Ruby red. Amethyst purple… Oh.”

He turned to Chastity and looked her over. He knew just the color that would have men’s jaws dropping.

“Yellow sapphire,” he said.

He saw her breath hitch. The fact that yellow was the color of his house simply couldn’t matter.

“Chastity is family,” said Fortyne. “If it’s a matter of money, please do not worry yourself with it. I’ll take care of it.”

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of my guests,” said Pryde sternly. “I’ll take care of the bills. It’s a matter of time, too. There are limited days remaining in the party. Twenty-six to be precise. Duchess, how long would it take a modiste to create a wardrobe that would suit Chastity’s needs for the rest of the party?”

Patience licked her lips. “Weeks.”

“Money will always help,” said Fortyne. “They may not be as skilled as those in London, but there must be a decent modiste or a seamstress nearby. Maybe two or three?”

Patience nodded. “And my maid, Mademoiselle Antoinette, can help. She knows all about fashion, and she’s quite handy with a needle.”

“Excellent,” said Fortyne. “Pryde, you take care of finding a modiste who is available to come right away, and I’ll take care of the bills. Protect family, remember, gentlemen. If Lady Chastity needs a transformation, she will get one.”