Page 2 of The Season of Lady Chastity

Indecipherable from one another.

Many suspected them twins, yet no one spent the time needed to become acquainted with either sister. If they did, they’d quickly learn that there was more to Chastity than what they saw on the surface.

Chastity’s annoyance flared. Even Prudence saw them as two like-minded women who wanted the same things for their future.

Namely, to remain in the shadows. Wallflowers content to wile away their youth until the age of spinsterhood was solidly upon them.

If one attended a soiree, they would need look long and hard to spot the Neville sisters hiding in the palms bordering the ballroom, or in the shadows of the veranda as dashing, eligible men led elegant ladies onto the dance floor.

Chastity was tired of being cast into the role of wallflower: a plain miss with no prospects for her future despite her wealthy, titled lineage.

Witnessing Edith, Luci, and Ophelia fall in love had been enough to make Chastity long for the same. There were far worse fates than securing a match with a dashing and handsome lord who had eyes only for her. Her and Prudence’s first Season had been less than stellar with no lords—or gentlemen at all—showing either woman mind. There had been no social calls by matrons seeking advantageous matches for their titled sons, no rides in Hyde Park with gallant lords, and nary a request for even so much as a dance.

However, Lady Lucianna’s Christmastide wedding to Montrose would be the perfect opportunity for Chastity to cast aside her wallflower ways. Five glorious days at Montrose’s country estate, Oxburgh Hall. There would be riding excursions, charades, card evenings, a wedding…all of it culminating in a grand ball to celebrate the wedded couple. Chastity had even heard word of a fox hunt.

It was to be a small gathering of family and close friends, which meant the fawning debutantes of London’s beau monde would not be in attendance—though Montrose was sure to invite his friends; perhaps some unattached, dashingly handsome lords of marriageable age.

Chastity made certain to keep her excitement contained as she knelt beside a large trunk and unlatched the lid. During their childhood, she and Pru had escaped their governess and hurried up the several flights of stairs to spend hours slipping into their mother’s old gowns, trying on her silk, elbow-length gloves, and dancing about the attic. Each dress was precisely tailored and made of the finest silks, satins, and muslin.

If Chastity were to be noticed, she needed the perfect gown for the grand ball.

The trunk opened to reveal a stash of fabrics in every hue: vibrant emerald, canary yellow, blood red, tangerine orange, and royal blue. Satins, silks, and brocades. Fine lace, and beaded overlays.

Each garment was exquisitely beautiful, and nothing she’d ever dreamed of wearing outside the confines of their townhouse.

Since their introduction to society earlier in the Season, Pru and Chastity had favored pastel-colored gowns with modest necklines and few adornments.

“None of these will do.” Pru crossed her arms over the bodice of her morning dress and tapped the toe of her half boot.

If they’d searched through the gowns only a few months earlier, Chastity would have agreed with her sister. They were all far too bold with their cascading necklines and beaded adornments that were certain to earn notice.

However, much had changed since Chastity had been introduced to society.

She reached into the trunk and pulled out a royal blue dress, the silk wrinkled from years of being hidden in the attic but without any other blemishes. It had a daring neckline, a high waist, capped sleeves, and black beads sewn into the folds and across the bodice.

The gown was exquisite.

Perfect for a Christmastide ball.

“You cannot think to wear such a gown,” Prudence scoffed.

“I aim to do exactly that.” Chastity held the gown up before her. The length was perfect, and the style seemed almost wicked for being at least fifteen years old. “Help me slip it on.”

Chastity pushed the gown into Pru’s grasp and started unfastening the line of black pearl buttons trailing down the back, refusing to allow her sister the opportunity to object.

Prudence’s narrowed glare spoke clearly of her disapproval, making words unnecessary, though her sister was never one to allow an occasion to chastise another pass her by. “It will draw too much attention.”

“And what is the harm in that?” Chastity finished with the buttons and reached down for the hem, gesturing for her sister to help her slip the garment over her head.

With only a small sigh, Prudence held the gown high as it fell down Chastity’s body and over her morning dress. It was a bit snug at her hips but, otherwise, the gown hugged her in all the correct places. Chastity smoothed her hands down the dress, her eyes drifting closed as she imagined her mother attending a soiree outfitted in the gown. It did not take long for the image to fade as, truly, Chastity only possessed one likeness of her mother. It was a portrait suspended above the hearth in the sisters’ shared room, their mother sitting heavy with child, Prudence as an infant nestled in her arms, and their father standing rigid and stiff behind his wife with his hands hanging by his sides.

The family portrait had been commissioned only three weeks before Chastity was born—and her mother died. It had nearly been thrown into the rubbish bin when their father wed Esmee, his third and current wife.

Chastity opened her eyes, praying for the memories to flee.

“It does look lovely on you,” Prudence conceded with a frown. “Though, I cannot think of why you would want to wear such a thing.”

Chastity’s annoyance at her sister’s dour mood fled. It was not Prudence’s fault Chastity had always been too reserved to speak of her own wants and desires, or that they had in no way ever aligned with Pru’s need to remain in the shadows.