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For the first time in a long time, he actually cared what they might think of him.
His gaze caught on the stupid smile lingering on his lips. He forced it into a straight line and found the corners of his mouth did not wish to obey. His thoughts were only of Chastity and dancing with her, holding her, practically claiming her as his own last night. If he’d been bold, he could have taken another dance and announced it to the world, but if he knew anything of Chastity, it was she was a woman with a mind of her own and he would force no decisions upon her.
No, it was better that he waited. Today, he would ask to court her and by the time the ton heard of their relationship he hoped they would be close to an engagement and little could be said of them. Of course there was his household to think of. There would be talk of Chastity’s deception.
But even that could not dampen his sprits. Nor the ridiculous smile haunting his lips. Really, if he was going to do this, he needed to cease looking an utter fool or Chastity was going to think him ready for the asylum.
Perhaps he was.
He just could not bring himself to care. Society, gossip, the whole ton, they could still go hang. But so long as he had Chastity on his arm, he would care even less for them, even if in their very proximity. Hell, he’d never admit it, but he’d almost enjoyed the ball last night.
Lane entered his bedroom, shutting the door abruptly, cravat in hand.
Valentine frowned at the man’s bewildered expression.
“I know I do not usually wear cravats, Lane, but it cannot be that distressing, surely?”
He opened his mouth, gestured to the door, then closed it. “I just saw...” He shook his head. “I believe I saw the maid who left—Chastity—with one of the other maids, my lord.”
“Chastity is here?”
Lane’s gaze narrowed, but he wisely did not comment on Valentine’s familiar tone. “They came in through the servant’s entrance and were in quite the hurry. But the maid, my lord...she wore...” He shook his head. “She wore a silk gown.”
He let his scowl deepen. Why would she be here, not in disguise, rushing through his home? The blasted woman never passed up an opportunity to change costumes.
For the briefest, sweetest moment, he’d believed her to be here for him but why would she not simply present herself at the door? The only answer he could conjure was that she’d discovered something.
Something to do with someone in his household?
“Where were they going?”
Lane lifted his shoulders. “I could not say, my lord. They took the stairs, and I was so flummoxed I did not think to follow.” Lane fixed him with a firm look. “There is more to that maid than meets the eye, is there not, my lord?”
“It is a long story and one I do not wish to divulge at present, Lane.” He waved away the proffered cravat. “I need to find her.”
Lane’s crestfallen expression almost made him stop and indulge the man, however, if Chastity had discovered something, perhaps even the murderer, his plans would have to wait. Most especially if the damned woman intended to confront a murderer with only another maid as protection.
