Spinster and Spice (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 3)

by Rebecca Connolly

  Izzy stared, gaping a bit. “You aren’t serious.”

  He nodded. “It was important to her that I be honest with myself about what I was feeling,” he went on, his eyes distant and unfocused. “Even if I couldn’t express it publicly. I’m a reserved man, but that doesn’t mean I’m also impassive or unfeeling. Quite the opposite.” His gaze suddenly sharpened on her. “I want you to express yourself, Izzy, and to give yourself the value that you always seem to give to others. Your kind, generous heart needs to be inclined towards you as well. Be kind to yourself. You are too remarkable to be anything less.”

  She exhaled, touched by the warmth and concern she saw in his countenance, and by the tenderness in his words. “If you keep flattering me,” she managed to tease, her throat tightening, “I’ll begin to think you have designs.”

  A very soft laugh escaped him, and a crooked smile appeared. “Perhaps I do.”

  Perhaps he what?

  She hastily cleared her throat. “Do you… still throw things?”

  He stepped away, though his eyes seemed to give her another tender caress. “No, that was the only time. Cleaning things up seemed a poor use of energy.” He smiled gently. “You’d best get back to the Spinsters, Iz. They’ll likely send out a search party.”

  She nodded shakily, her feet moving of their own accord towards the door. Yes, the Spinsters. Her friends. Her article. Her story. There was much to be done, and here…

  Here…

  She turned to glance back at him before she left the room and found him watching her.

  She couldn’t help it; she grinned at him.

  And her heart soared when he grinned back.

  Cheeks flaming, she turned and started down the corridor.

  “The library, Izzy dear?” her mother asked as she suddenly came into view.

  Izzy nodded, praying her cheeks were not as red as they felt. “Yes, Mama. I wanted to be sure Mr. Morton was all right. The article, you know, may distress people, and I didn’t want him to worry for Kitty.”

  Her mother took her hand, smiling lovingly. “I’m not worried for Kitty. Or for any of you.”

  “You’re not?” Izzy asked, surprised in spite of herself.

  “Not at all,” her mother replied easily. “I am sorry for it, of course, but I know none of it to be true. You are all such fine young women, and do not deserve this.”

  “Then you…” Izzy swallowed and felt tears threaten again. “Then you’ll stand by me?”

  Her mother’s mouth gaped for a moment, then she gathered Izzy close. “Of course, my love. Of course we’ll stand by you. We always will. Nothing will change that.”

  Izzy hugged her mother tightly, heart soaring, tears burning behind her eyelids.

  Her mother sniffled, then pulled back, giving Izzy an encouraging smile. “Now, dear, go back into that room, and put a response in the Chronicles that will make that Hugh Sterling wish he hadn’t crossed paths with Isabella Lambert.”

  “Mother!” Izzy coughed, laughing in delight. “You don’t think I should rise above this and turn the other cheek?”

  “Oh, certainly, certainly,” her mother returned, a twinkle in her eye. “Just find a way to have Christian charity and return fire at the same time.” She winked, patted Izzy’s arms, and moved past her down the corridor.

  Izzy watched her go, jaw dropped, incapable of concise thought.

  Then one thought appeared, and her mouth formed a satisfied smile. She moved towards the drawing room with a quick step and grinned at her friends when she arrived.

  “I have an idea.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  A bit of mystery is good for a person. And a bit of revelation possibly even better.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 10 November 1818

  “Miranda has outdone herself. Look at this décor, and for only a simple card party?”

  “I think Mrs. Johnston has outdone herself, and Miranda is taking all the credit.”

  “How well you know my stepmother.”

  “Well, you told such fine tales of her, Sterling, that it was impossible not to know her. And I find the reality to exceed even your detailed descriptions.”

  Sebastian smiled a little at his friends and their conversation but saw no reason to take part in it. The room was indeed elegantly furnished, and perhaps overdone for something so informal, but not without taste. The space was filling with guests, but hardly so many as to be overcrowded. All told, it was destined to be a lovely evening, and undoubtedly filled with people he enjoyed spending time with.

  But he wasn’t currently paying attention to any of that, or any of them.

  It had been three days since he had seen Izzy, three days since those exquisite moments in the library, and three days since he had felt a single moment of sanity.

  He wasn’t prepared for this. Hadn’t prepared for this.

  Had never felt this.

  Izzy brought light to his life, energy to his days, and feeling to his soul. He, who had been reserved for so long, could no longer be so when he was with her. He had to tell her everything, let down all his defenses, reach out when he was more inclined to retreat within.

  He was more alive with her. He hadn’t known he’d ever become less than that.

  Not until Izzy.

  Only with Izzy.

  He inhaled slowly and exhaled the same. His friends couldn’t know. They would make light of it, tease him, pester him until he could come to resent them or his feelings, and he couldn’t bear either. He might be more accustomed to teasing now that Izzy was taking up the charge, but it was different with her.

  Everything was.

  “Did you see the Spinster Chronicles today?” Henshaw asked of them, taking a glass of punch from a passing footman. “Absolutely brilliant.”

  More keenly aware of anything related to the Spinsters now than ever, Sebastian turned to the others. “Pardon?”

  Tony raised a brow at him. “Did you not see the edition that went out?”

  He shook his head, looking between them. “No, should I have?”

  His friend chuckled and shifted to lean closer. “As a husband of a Spinster, I will always suggest that you read them, and read them well. We thank you for your support.”

  Sebastian rolled his eyes, which made Henshaw laugh, and scowled. “I usually do, and not just to show support. They’re always well written and spot on, in those areas I have interest in. I usually skim the Fashion Forum, rather than read thoroughly.”

  “I won’t tell,” Tony swore, raising a hand.

  “I enjoy that one,” Henshaw commented with slightly pursed lips. “They don’t hold back on something they disagree with. It brought up several good points about tartan calico.”

  Sebastian gave him an utterly bewildered look. “What in the world do you know about tartan calico, Henshaw?”

  The look was returned with a marked degree of derision. “I have seven sisters. I know everything about tartan calico, believe me.”

  Sebastian had one sister, no other siblings, and he could honestly say that he had no knowledge of any calico at all, let alone tartan calico.

  No matter.

  “Was that what I am supposed to read so intently?” Sebastian asked them, keeping his tone mild, if dubious. “Tartan calico?”

  Tony scoffed loudly. “Lord, no.”

  Henshaw shook his head quickly, chuckling to himself. “No, Morton, I don’t give a damn about tartan calico.”

  “That’s a relief,” Sebastian muttered. “I was beginning to worry.”

  Tony gave him a quelling look, his mouth curving into a lopsided smile. “They brought in a guest writer for the first time.”

  “The Spinsters?” Sebastian grunted softly, considering that idea. “What for?”

  “As a rebuttal against Hugh Sterling, surely,” Henshaw suggested, looking to Tony for confirmation.

  Tony nodded, barely restraining the pride in his eyes. “Georgie could barely contain herself when she told me. Refused
to say whose idea it was, not that it matters, as it was unanimous once suggested, but she’s absolutely delighted at what they’ve started.”

  “Who wrote it?” Sebastian asked him, his interest piqued despite his inclination.

  “It’s anonymous,” Henshaw pointed out. “Same as all the other articles. No names at all.”

  That made him frown in thought. “Then how do you know it was a guest writer? Is it not possible that it was just one of the Spinsters pretending to be otherwise?”

  Henshaw made a face of consideration, then turned to Tony. “That’s entirely possible, you know.”

  “I don’t think so,” Tony said with a quick shake of his head. “Not with the way Georgie described it. She said that a guest wrote the article in defense of the Spinsters after what had been published, and it would not have the same effect if it had been written by one of them. Surely you see that.”

  Sebastian sighed and gestured with his hands slightly. “Of course I see that, but surely you must see that no one would know if their guest was Lady Edith or Miss Morledge or Camden Vale.”

  “I think we could safely say it’s not Vale,” Henshaw coughed, laughing and grinning without restraint. “The language is far too refined.”

  “The point is,” Tony went on, riding right over them both, “that it has caught fire. The entire city is talking about it. The argument, if you can call it that, is sensible and sophisticated, avoids attacking the ‘esteemed writer of a recent article’, and yet swiftly cuts away every single point of the original complaint.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “It’s quite a masterful piece. And everyone is dying to know who the guest is.”

  Sebastian smiled, his mind spinning on the idea silently. The author was clearly someone with skills in writing and language, someone who could clearly and concisely express their thoughts on paper and had no compunction to having their words read by others.

  He knew one woman with ties to the Spinsters who fit that description.

  Izzy.

  It would not surprise him in the slightest if she had posed as a guest writer to send a proper reply to Hugh’s slander. Given the glorious manner in which she had allowed her anger to rise and fall in the library, he knew full well how pained she had been.

  Had she taken his words to heart and chosen to defend herself in the most comfortable manner available?

  His thoughts latched onto the picture of Izzy he had conjured up, and he found himself searching the room for her yet again.

  If he discovered that she’d done this marvelous thing, stood up to the tyrannical defamation of her character from a wastrel, he wanted to know. He wanted to praise her.

  He wanted to kiss her until neither of them could breathe properly.

  He swallowed with difficulty, the idea searing itself into his mind.

  He might have to do that anyway.

  “My money is on Miss Asheley,” Henshaw mused aloud, pointing in the direction of Elinor at the card table.

  Tony snorted in derision. “Elinor? Absolutely not, her response to the article would have much more fire and brimstone and possibly some profanity.”

  Sebastian found himself nodding, then stopped in absolute arrestment as Izzy finally entered the room with her mother.

  The conversation around him faded, his frantic heart picked up its pace, and everything within him suddenly became acutely attuned to her. She was across the room, and it was as though he could hear her breathing. Could feel the touch of her skin on his fingers.

  Could taste the softness of her lips.

  Henshaw and Tony continued to speculate beside him.

  “Lady Edith?” Henshaw queried. “I could confront her on my next visit.”

  “I can’t see any of the actual Spinsters posing as a friend offering a different point of view,” Tony replied in a doubtful tone. “It must actually be a guest writer.”

  “Lady Hetty, then.”

  “No, no, it was far too polite. Sounded young.”

  Sebastian watched as Izzy greeted Miranda and the Johnstons, as she and her mother laughed at something Miranda said, the resemblance between them never more striking than with their laughter.

  Lord, but Izzy was a glorious sight when she laughed.

  He ought to make her laugh, and laugh often.

  Why was he not more amusing?

  “What about your cousin?” Henshaw asked Tony.

  “I asked Alice, and she was very evasive about the whole thing. It’s a distinct possibility, but I’m not sure.”

  Sebastian didn’t care who had written what or if she were young, old, or markedly scarred upon her face. Someone had come to Izzy’s defense, and that was all that mattered.

  That was everything that mattered.

  Izzy moved from their hosts to the table where Elinor, her sister Emma, Georgie, and Lady Hetty sat playing at whist, and greeted all with a warm, bright smile. No hint of the distress he had seen at their last meeting, and only strength emanated from her.

  Strength and goodness, and the sudden need to smile.

  That was what Izzy brought.

  That was what he needed.

  Good heavens, he was turning into a pathetic, obsessive fool.

  Izzy looked up then and saw him. Her shoulders relaxed, her eyes softened, and her smile became more gentle, secretive, and quivering at the edges.

  Yes… Yes, he was turning into a fool, and it was a delightful sensation.

  He smiled back at her, dipping his chin in greeting.

  She responded in kind, then moved to greet Kitty, who stood looking out of a window with Lady Edith. Kitty beamed when she saw her, and Lady Edith kissed her cheek quickly, then all turned to the window, looking out at something.

  “I see what you’re looking at,” Tony said softly. “Shouldn’t you do something about it?”

  Sebastian jerked and turned to look at his friend, only to find Tony speaking to Henshaw, who was also staring shamelessly.

  “No, I think not,” Henshaw answered, missing the mark on achieving his usual teasing air.

  “Come, come, you know she thinks highly of you,” Tony went on.

  Sebastian prepared to snarl and argue, defend his tenuous position, such as it was, and declare himself in pursuit of Izzy. He’d have brawled with Henshaw in the center of this room, if he had to, and despite Henshaw’s size and skill, Sebastian would be the undisputed victor.

  “Do I?” Henshaw murmured, his tone strained.

  Sebastian’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

  “You meet with her every week, man, can you not see that?” Tony laughed.

  He what?

  Sebastian glanced over and saw Henshaw blink and smile more fully. “Yes, I suppose Lady Edith must think highly of me. Or simply suffer the poor fool charged with her care.”

  Somehow, Sebastian avoided swaying with relief, and his lips moved on a very fast, very silent prayer.

  “And?” Tony prodded, sounding more like one of the Spinsters might than a well-trained army man.

  Henshaw turned to Tony, smirking smugly. “And I have no desire or need to share my secrets with you, Sterling. Excuse me while I go and flatter your stepmother.” He bowed and strode over to Miranda.

  Tony stepped closer to Sebastian, chuckling. “I will find out his secrets, mark my words.”

  Sebastian made a noncommittal sound and willed his unsteady heart to calm, letting his attention fall on Izzy again.

  Never mind Henshaw’s secrets. Sebastian was having trouble enough with his own.

  “Sweet Miss Lambert, it is so good to see you here.”

  Izzy smiled at Lady Castleton as she moved to sit beside her. “My lady, it is a pleasure to see you as well.”

  Lady Castleton patted her hands gently, her eyes filled with a strange sheen of pity. “I trust you have heard of my daughter Beatrice’s engagement.”

  “I did,” Izzy replied with a bright smile for effect. “And to Mr. Hale, I trust? Such a fine man, I hope they will be very h
appy.”

  “Yes, yes, we are delighted by the match,” Lady Castleton told her, still smiling in an almost condescending way. “Though I was loathe to make it known to you. You and Beatrice were so close as children, you were as an older sister to her.”

  Izzy looked at the older woman in surprise. “Yes, which is why I am so very pleased. And proud.”

  Lady Castleton simpered loudly and squeezed Izzy’s hands. “You are so good. You are too good, my dear Isabella. I cannot fathom for the world why you are unmarried.”

  “The question of the age, I am afraid,” Izzy answered as she rose from her chair, curtseying politely before moving away.

  She couldn’t stand another discussion about her marital state, particularly not as the target of pity or sympathy.

  She was a spinster, she wasn’t dying.

  Apparently, there wasn’t much difference.

  “Dearest Miss Lambert,” greeted Mrs. Johnston, Miranda’s sister, as she approached.

  She was a warm, generous woman, like her sister, but without Miranda’s eccentricities. Izzy liked her very much indeed, but sensed she was in for another sympathetic word.

  “You just look a picture,” Mrs. Johnston praised, looking over Izzy with fondness. “You are far too pretty to be a spinster, though you do wear it well.”

  “Do I?” Izzy murmured with as kind a smile as she could manage. “That is good to know.”

  Mrs. Johnston missed the meaning behind Izzy’s words and moved onto other guests, thankfully leaving their conversation at that.

  Izzy looked for Sebastian but found him deep in conversation with Kitty and Edith, which she was pleased to see. Edith almost never went out in company, and thus had very few friends or connections outside of the Spinsters. It would do her good to associate more and escape from her loneliness.

  “Izzy dear, come listen to this,” her mother said, holding out a hand to her. “Come and listen to what Mrs. Larkin says about you.”

  Biting back a groan, Izzy moved to take her mother’s hand, grateful that Lady Hetty was among the group gathered there. If this were as interminable as conversations with Mrs. Larkin ever were, at least she would not be alone in her endurance.