Charlotte eyed Elinor curiously. “When did you and Alice Sterling become friends? Let alone the others.”
“We’re not,” Elinor admitted with her usual bluntness. “I happened to be walking this way when Amelia and Kitty made me go with them to see her. And Alice wasn’t engaging at all, it was miserable.”
“Steady on,” Georgie muttered with a dark look. “She is my relation.”
“By marriage,” Elinor shot back. “Izzy is your relation.”
“For my sins,” Izzy quipped with a sigh, flinging a grin in Georgie’s direction.
Prue gave her a bewildered look as she entered, taking the seat beside Edith. “What sins are those? I’m not aware of any.”
Izzy groaned loudly and looked at Prue with as much severity as she dared. “We all have sins, Prue. Nobody is perfect.”
“I have loads of sins,” Charlotte admitted freely, widening her eyes for effect. “I sin with flare.”
“I am sure the Lord quite despairs for you,” Georgie told her with sympathy.
Prue looked concerned for the topic and crossed herself quickly.
“And I’m quite sure Alice has a reason for being in low spirits,” Grace reminded Elinor, her expression severe. “Don’t criticize her.”
“Hear, hear,” Edith murmured.
“There’s something I don’t understand, Izzy,” Charlotte mused aloud, giving her a speculative look.
Izzy looked at her friend expectantly, though she knew there was no preparing for anything where Charlotte was concerned. “Yes?”
Charlotte’s brow furrowed, which it rarely did. “How did you and Mr. Morton grow so close that you could have such a tremendous falling out? Surely not just in your aiding Kitty.”
“Charlotte Geneva Wright!” Georgie exclaimed, glaring murderously.
“I told you not to ask her that!” Grace shrieked as her hands flew to her mouth.
Charlotte glanced at Grace with a shrug. “Apparently, I don’t listen well. Surprise.” She returned her focus to Izzy. “Well?”
Izzy stared at her, waiting for her heart to resume its proper function. When it did so, she swallowed once, then asked, “How did you know?”
Her friend smiled in fond derision. “Dear girl, it was rather simple. We all knew the two of you were infatuated with each other, and then suddenly you were not attending our gatherings and not seeing anyone. There was a falling out, and it was disastrous, and I don’t understand why.”
“Why we fell out?” Izzy tried, hoping she could avoid revealing absolutely every secret she possessed.
Charlotte stared at her without speaking, clearly not willing to let this go.
There was nothing for it, then.
Izzy heaved a sigh and glanced at Edith, who nodded in encouragement. “I suppose it is long past time to tell you all what I’ve been doing. What we’ve been doing.”
“Wait a moment, I am determined to be present for any and all confessions.”
Every Spinster in the room turned to the doorway in shock, knowing that voice all too well.
Miranda Sterling was in the doorway of the parlor, dressed in the smartest walking dress Izzy had ever seen, the rich grey emphasizing Miranda’s brilliant blue eyes to perfection.
Georgie was the first to recover and rose to greet her. “Miranda, what are you doing here?”
Miranda kissed her cheek, then moved into the room, keeping her gaze trained on Izzy. “Kitty Morton sent me a note, and I came to see Izzy. I had no idea you’d all be gathered, but no matter.” She sat in the chair as though it were a throne.
Charlotte grinned at Miranda, drumming her fingers on the armrests of her chair. “Where’s Rufus, Miranda?”
“Downstairs in the kitchens,” Miranda replied, still staring at Izzy. “He hates large gatherings.”
Charlotte snickered into a hand, as did someone else, but Izzy couldn’t look away from Miranda.
“Go on, Izzy,” Miranda encouraged with a warm smile. “Tell us.”
Slowly, her face flaming the entire time, Izzy told them everything. Her first letters to Cousin Frank, his encouragement to try, and her desperate attempts to record as many stories as she could think of. She told them about her anxiety in keeping the secret, in succeeding or failing, and in being good enough. She mentioned her meeting with Frank and the need for an illustrator to enhance the story properly.
Then she spoke of Sebastian and his ability to capture the stories perfectly with his art, and how he had agreed to work with her on this. She told them how excited they had been to have Frank take them on, and how they’d used nearly all of the moments they should have spent with Kitty to work on their collection. How Sebastian had encouraged her, emboldened her, and her fears that this rift between them might destroy her dreams, along with her heart.
“And then there is the cost,” she admitted at last, her throat nearly raw with so much talking. “Cousin Frank isn’t a publisher of novels, strictly speaking, and so the costs will be more, which means I have to pay for a good portion of the process, and there is no money to be had for such a venture. So, it’s irrelevant anyway. Unless I tell my parents, at any rate, and there is no reason for me to think that they will give me hundreds of pounds to publish the collection the way I would like.”
She looked at her friends in turn, and each stared at her without much by way of expression.
“Well?” she finally asked of any of them.
“Why didn’t you tell us from the start?” Prue shook her head, smiling in her gentle way. “Of course, we w-would have supported you. It sounds perfectly l-lovely!”
“Yes!” Grace echoed, turning towards her. “I would have loved to help you with any of it.”
Izzy sighed, torn between relief and embarrassment. “Thank you.”
“So, you fell in love with him through all that,” Charlotte stated in a surprisingly soft voice.
Izzy’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at one of her oldest friends, and then she nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. “Yes.”
Charlotte smiled sadly and said nothing further.
“Well, I can certainly resolve one of the issues at hand,” Miranda said, her voice choked.
Izzy looked at the woman in surprise. “What?”
Miranda wiped at her eyes delicately, then sniffed. “I insist on funding your publication, Izzy. All of it. Whatever you need.”
“Miranda!” she gasped, shaking her head quickly. “No!”
“I don’t understand that word,” Miranda replied, making Charlotte hoot a laugh. “So, you had best not say it. I am doing this, and you will have the best of all materials. I will call upon your cousin Frank tomorrow and settle it all.”
Izzy gaped at her, mouth working soundlessly, then glanced around at her friends for help.
They had none to give.
“Thank you,” Izzy finally managed, squeaking awkwardly.
Miranda dipped her chin in a regal nod. “Delighted, love. I cannot do anything about your Mr. Morton, I’m afraid. You will have to manage that one on your own.”
Izzy nodded frantically, smiling in helpless delight. She had no idea how she would resolve that, but she would find a way. She could make things right between them somehow, if only given a chance. She refused to believe that all would be lost, that there was nothing to save between them.
She still loved him, and while she loved him, she would work to do all she could to save them.
“Begging your pardon, Miss Lambert,” Collins suddenly intoned from the door. “Something has just been delivered for you.”
Delivered? What could possibly have been delivered for her when she had purchased nothing of late?
“Ooh, presents!” Charlotte applauded politely. “Bring it in, Collins.”
Georgie shushed her, and thankfully Collins ignored her, keeping his focus on Izzy.
Izzy swallowed once. She had no secrets from them anymore, so there was nothing to be gained by further secrecy.
“Bring it to me, please, Collins.”
He nodded, disappeared for a moment, then returned with a scroll of sorts on a platter, tied with a blue ribbon.
Fingers trembling, she picked up the scroll and untied the ribbon, setting it in her lap.
No one in the room spoke, and she so wished they would.
Her breath caught as she opened the scroll, no more than plain paper, but upon it had been drawn a scene that stole her breath.
It was of a warm and cozy parlor, a blazing fire roaring in the fireplace to one side. A small rocking horse sat in the corner next to a chest with various toys stacked around it. A woman was in a chair, sitting right at the edge, her hands and arms waving in a dramatic fashion. At her feet sat four children, the youngest barely more than an infant, all in their nightclothes. They were riveted upon her, hanging on her every word, eyes wide as saucers.
The woman was Izzy, that was plain, and the children all resembled her in some way. And on a sofa at the edge of the drawing, cradling an infant, was Sebastian. Smiling at her.
“What is it?” Charlotte demanded in excitement.
Izzy couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. Sebastian had captured every aspect of the life she had imagined. No matter what he had said or done, this alone spoke volumes.
“It’s an illustration,” Edith told Charlotte in a firm tone intended to end the discussion.
“Oh, for the collection?” Charlotte went on, missing the hint entirely.
Miranda hummed very softly. “I don’t believe that is for the collection at all, Charlotte. And I further believe it is a private matter. Now, speak of something else, or I shall insist we all take Rufus for a walk.”
“Well,” Elinor chirped brightly, “does anyone want to hear my news?”
“I doubt it will top Izzy’s news, but why not?” Charlotte said with a wave of her hand.
Grace rolled her eyes and huffed. “Really, Charlotte…”
“Mr. Andrews may have developed a fondness for someone we know,” Elinor told them all, ignoring the other two.
That sparked the interest of the group, but Izzy lost track of the conversation and stared at the illustration in wonder. How could he have known she needed this? That this would renew something within her, rekindle what she had thought lost? How could he have known her so perfectly?
He loves me.
She gasped very softly to herself, afraid of the truth, of believing…
She looked up and her eyes clashed with Miranda’s. She smiled with the utmost gentleness at Izzy and winked before going back to the conversation.
That wink sparked something within her, something she hadn’t felt in days, and feared she never would again.
Hope.
Sebastian was shown into the Lambert home without any fuss or ado, and without a single scowl from the butler, who surely had to know what had happened the last time Sebastian had entered the place. Yet the older man had taken him up just as easily and efficiently as he had any other time Sebastian had called.
Strangely, that gave him a bizarre sense of hope.
He’d sent a note asking to see Izzy today, and was astonished that he received a favorable reply. His nerves at their extremes, he’d wondered at least a dozen times on the ride over if he should have waited longer. Spent longer making amends and making restitution. Courting Izzy’s forgiveness before appearing for judgment.
Ultimately, he could not wait.
He could not wait one day more.
He was shown into the drawing room, and Izzy was ready for him, standing by the window, her dress simple, yet elegant.
And she was smiling.
He wasn’t sure she had ever been more beautiful.
Collins’ footsteps disappeared down the corridor and faded to nothing.
Still Izzy watched him, her expression warm, but hesitant.
“How is Alice Sterling?” he asked without any preamble, unable to think of anything else to ask. “Kitty tells me you’ve all been to see her.”
He watched her throat work on a swallow. “Recovering. It will take time.” One of her brows rose quickly. “I believe Hugh may be more distraught at the moment.”
“So he should be,” Sebastian replied, completely unapologetic. “It’s unforgivable what he did.”
“Is it?” Izzy asked with a mildness that stole his breath.
The irony was not lost on him.
“Perhaps not,” he managed, averting his gaze. “He is her brother, after all. And he clearly did not mean to lead her so far astray.”
Izzy cleared her throat once, drawing his gaze back. “Brothers do the best they can for their sisters, do they not? Even if at times they do so wrongly?”
He opened his mouth to speak but found no words.
No excuse.
“Is it to be faulted if they meant no harm?” she pressed with such gentleness it weakened him.
Even when she was not defending herself with a fire, she was magnificent. Her goodness was just as magnificent as her strength. And he loved her just as much for that, if not more.
He inhaled slowly, then exhaled in a rush. “Izzy, I… I need to apologize.”
She didn’t respond, which made him want to smile.
“Profusely,” he added with feeling. “Repeatedly, and extensively. And you know that. I overreacted in a way I didn’t think I was capable of. Not only were you right to tell me to read what Kitty wrote, but you were right about everything. I was a hypocrite. I am a hypocrite. It was difficult to hear, but it was absolutely the truth.”
He shook his head, shame and revulsion filling him, paining him still as he faced her this way. “I became one of those critics who turned against you, only I couldn’t see it. I was blinded by ignorance and a puffed-up sense of propriety. All that I had been encouraging you to do, and suddenly I took it all back. I proved myself the worst sort of friend; the kind that cannot weather the storm. The disloyal one. The one without honor. But you…”
He broke off, his voice hoarse with emotion. He cleared his throat quickly. “You’ve always been exactly who you are. You’re steadfast and true, you’re kind and good, and you understand the confines of the human heart more deeply than anyone I’ve ever met. You see what we all should, and yet you aren’t blind to anything. You are a wonder, Izzy. Something of a miracle.”
Izzy made a soft sound of denial, but he stepped forward, holding out a hand.
“Please, let me finish,” he begged. “Please.”
She clasped her hands and nodded once.
Sebastian sighed bitterly. “I cannot take back what I said, though I dearly wish I had that power. I cannot pretend that I will always be this humbled or clear, but I can vow that I will be the stalwart friend you deserve, Isabella Lambert, and from this day forward you will always have my support and loyalty, no matter what. All I ask is for a chance to atone, and to eventually be forgiven, and to prove myself worthy of your friendship.”
Izzy stared at him for a long moment, her wide, incomparable eyes surveying him with such depth he would vow she had seen his soul, but she said nothing.
In agony, he waited. Hoped.
Despaired.
“I don’t want another friend, Mr. Morton,” she eventually murmured, her voice barely reaching him. “I have so many, and we both know most of those are only of convenience.”
His heart crashed into the pit of his stomach, and he blinked at the shocking pain of it all, lowering his head.
“What I am in desperate need of is the man I love.”
Stunned, his head shot up, and he stared at her in wonder. She smiled at him with such tenderness, he could scarcely breathe.
“For I’ve missed him,” Izzy went on, her voice growing in strength and fervor. “Very much. And I cannot bear to see him hurting so when he is so very treasured.”
He was what?
His feet were moving before he knew what was happening. “Izzy…”
She laughed, the sound more like a sob, and reached for h
im as he came to her. He hauled her into his chest, her arms twining around his neck tightly. He inhaled the scent of her, the beautiful fragrance of warmth and laughter and home, drinking it until it filled every part of him.
“I love you, Iz,” he breathed, gripping her hair in desperate fingers. “I love you so much. I’m so very sorry.”
Izzy shushed him, stroking the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said what I did to you, should never have accused you of such horrid things…”
He pulled back and gave her a severe look. “Stop apologizing,” he ordered, leaning down to kiss her, savoring the taste and feel of her lips against his.
“I must,” she insisted, breaking away. “I have to apologize. You deserve it.”
He kissed her again, more fiercely, taking great care to silence her. “No, I don’t,” he rasped against her mouth, dusting his lips across her cheeks and nose. “I don’t need your apology. You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Yes, I do,” she whispered, her lips grazing his cheek in a way that sent fire into his toes. “I was so rude and angry, and I should have listened.”
Sebastian chuckled as he nuzzled her gently, letting her hair slide through his fingers, pins scattering in every direction. “You’re being nice again.”
Izzy sighed and dipped her head back, exposing her neck and throat to him, which he took advantage of. “Of course I am. I’m always nice.”
“Yes, you are,” he agreed, layering kiss after kiss along her neck.
“I was so… so horrible to you,” she whimpered, the first sounds of real distress making their appearance.
He tipped her head back up, and held her chin in one hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Yes. And I was as proud of you as I was upset by you. Don’t ruin it.”
Her eyes searched his in an almost frantic manner. “Proud?”
He nodded as he stroked the underside of her chin. “So proud. You were taking charge of the moment, even as I was railing against you, and you flung it back in my face. You were bold and breathtaking and beautiful. It terrified me and thrilled me. Magnificent creature.”
Izzy shook her head, her hands gripping at the back of his neck. “I couldn’t be so bold but for you. I couldn’t… I love you, Sebastian. I love you.”
Spinster and Spice (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 3) Page 29
