“What,” Charlotte began without any hint of discretion, “could Mr. Morton want with you, Izzy?”
“What aren’t you telling us?” Elinor demanded in chorus.
“A word?” Grace asked with a bemused smile. “What kind of a word?”
“Likely about Kitty,” Edith insisted, widening her eyes meaningfully. “Honestly…”
“Izzy,” Georgie murmured gently, her voice somehow clearer to Izzy than the others. “A chaperone?”
Izzy looked at her cousin for a long moment, then lifted her eyes to Edith. “Edith, would you mind?”
Edith smirked a little and glanced around at the others. “Do I have chaperone branded across my forehead?”
Charlotte snorted softly. “You’re a widow, dear. Chaperone is inherent in the title.”
“I wish I’d known that before I became one,” Edith muttered as she shook her head, rising to join Izzy.
“Why?” Grace laughed. “Would you have changed things?”
Edith gave her a bewildered look. “Oh, Lord, no,” she said at once, her brogue rolling out proudly. “I would simply have found a second husband straightaway.”
The room snickered as Edith took Izzy’s arm and led her from the room.
“I am so sorry, Edith,” Izzy whispered when they were alone. “I don’t mean to cause you grief. I know I’m being a bother, but…”
Edith sobered at once and held Izzy’s arm tighter. “Not even a little bit, lass. I was only trying to give them something else to blather on about. The only person I would hate to chaperone is Elinor, and only because I would likely have to bodily restrain her from striking the poor man, and I would hate to be so engaged.”
Izzy breathed a sigh of relief and managed a smile. “Thank you.”
Edith nodded in an almost regal fashion, then leaned close. “Do you know what Mr. Morton wants?”
Izzy nodded quickly, swallowing. “You can’t tell anyone.”
“Of course,” came the simple reply.
But it wasn’t that simple.
Which was why she had chosen Edith. Edith wouldn’t feel the need to discuss it much further and would not be extreme or excitable about any of it. Georgie would have been the natural choice, as her cousin and best friend, but Georgie knew her too well, and would have too many opinions and expectations.
It would be too easy to let her down.
Kitty passed them as they moved to meet Sebastian, and she smiled and waved at them, but said nothing else. No hint of shyness or nerves, and an air of excitement about her.
Edith and Izzy shared an amused look. Clearly, Kitty Morton was coming along well.
They entered the drawing room and Sebastian rose the moment he saw them, a fixed smile of politeness on his handsome features.
Handsome? Oh dear, she could not think such things just as he was going to refuse to help her. It would only make things worse.
“Lady Edith,” Sebastian murmured with a polite bow. “Miss Lambert.”
They both curtseyed in response, and then Edith released Izzy’s arm. “I’ll just sit over here for propriety’s sake and leave you to it. Ignore me, please.”
Sebastian watched her with furrowed brow as she moved to the chair she’d indicated, then glanced at Izzy. “Does she know?” he asked in a very soft voice.
Izzy shook her head quickly. “But she will soon, I trust,” she managed, somehow avoiding any squeaks of nerves. She folded her hands before her in what was hopefully a calm manner. “If that is what you came to discuss.”
Sebastian nodded once. “It is. Izzy… Miss Lambert…”
“Izzy will do, as I’ve said,” she reminded him gently, though her heart lurched with it.
He nodded again, his mouth curving in a smile. “I’ve thought about what you offered, and thought it deserved all due consideration.”
She felt her head move in a nod, but her heart filled with dread.
Here it would be. Here would be the most polite refusal known to man.
“And I find that I do want to provide the illustrations for your stories.”
Izzy blinked once, then blinked again.
That did not sound like a refusal to her ears. She played it again in her mind, then stilled as the words sunk in.
He what?
He wanted to do her illustrations? He wanted to help her chances to be published? He wanted to risk failure in a wild scheme with her?
He couldn’t… could he?
“You do?” she eventually gasped, far later than she should have. “You really want to?”
Now his smile turned real and genuine, his eyes brightening. “Yes, I really do. I didn’t even realize I’d wanted to until… Well, I was drawing ducks, of all things, and I wondered what kind of stories you had with ducks.”
“I have a few,” she assured him quickly, her nerves vanishing in the face of outright excitement. “And I can do more. Ducks are very popular.”
He laughed once and nodded. “I know you have a meeting of the Spinsters now, so I won’t take up your time by getting into details, but… Perhaps I can work up some particular concepts of certain animals, and we can see what styles you like?”
“Yes!” Izzy cried, laughing now herself. “Yes, I would love to see that. Thank you, Sebastian. I… Well, I thought you were going to refuse me, honestly.”
“I don’t see how anybody could refuse you, Izzy,” he told her, his tone taking on a gentleness that warmed her toes.
Her breath caught, and she stared at him far too long. He was a handsome man. Very much so. And when he smiled like that…
Sebastian cleared his throat and stepped back. “Excellent. I will leave the two of you to return to whatever it is you Spinsters do when gathered en masse. I’ll be back to fetch my sister in two hours, if that will be sufficient?”
“It should be,” Izzy assured him, still giddy. “It won’t take long. Whatever it is.”
He grinned swiftly, then bowed once more. “Lovely to see you, Miss Lambert. Lady Edith.”
Edith waved a hand at him. “Good day, Mr. Morton.”
Izzy would never admit it, but she would swear that she saw him wink at her as he passed. She waited until his footsteps were no longer audible, then sighed again.
“Well,” Edith said slowly, rising and coming over to her.
Izzy glanced at her, wary and worried.
Edith beamed. “You’re writing stories? That is the most enchanting thing I have ever heard. And Mr. Morton is illustrating? How delightful! I am so pleased for you, Izzy!
“Truly?” Izzy took Edith’s hand and squeezed hard. “Truly, Edith?”
“No, I just said that because it’s polite, and he is handsome,” Edith retorted with a soft snort. “Yes, lass, truly.” She hugged her quickly, then pulled back. “I won’t say a single word. But you may confide in me, if ever you need.”
“Thank you.” Izzy exhaled slowly, then turned for the door. “Let’s go back, although I have no idea how I will keep them from asking me what it was all about. Or how my heart will stop racing.”
Edith hummed a laugh. “Leave it to me, Izzy. Give me a topic to distract them with.”
Izzy paused in thought as they moved to the room. “Alice Sterling. She’s to be at the Staffords’ party on Wednesday.”
“Perfect.” Edith tossed her dark hair, then strode with Izzy into the parlor again. “Are you sure Alice Sterling wouldn’t rather get away from her brothers at the Staffords’? Surely we can take her under our wing, too. If only to get her away from Hugh.”
“Capital idea!” Elinor chimed, sounding almost as though she were snarling at the thought.
Izzy didn’t need to answer, as everyone else had an opinion, and she sat carefully in her seat, ignoring how Georgie stared at her.
He hadn’t refused her. He’d accepted.
She couldn’t look delighted now, but her mind was already whirling with possibilities. This could work, she thought to herself. This could actually and truly work
.
And there was no knowing what possibilities that could bring.
Chapter Twelve
One’s guest list should never be as extensive as one’s ambitions. There is nothing worse than an overcrowded room, unless one wishes to be unobserved. Many eyes make for many missed things.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 19 August 1817
“Lord, did they invite everyone in London for this?”
Izzy grinned at Charlotte as they entered the Stafford ballroom, which was tastefully lit and simply decorated, no doubt to accommodate more guests. The music was already playing, and the room was bustling, though dancing had yet to begin.
“The Season has not started yet,” Izzy reminded her as she adjusted a coppery ringlet that was destined to fall from its curled state by the end of the night.
Charlotte snorted softly. “Tell that to this room.”
“There aren’t that many people in London, by comparison,” Izzy mused aloud, glancing about the room. “I think the ballroom is smaller than others, so it only looks more crowded.”
“Annabelle Stafford would do anything in the world to make it seem as though she were inestimably popular,” Charlotte retorted with brusque swiftness. “It would not surprise me in the least if she pushed the walls of this room together herself for this event to cram everyone in. They’ll call it a crush, and she’ll be delighted.”
Izzy shook her head, amused against her will, and sighed. “Well, that does not mean we cannot enjoy ourselves.”
Charlotte gave her a look. “I always enjoy myself. But it will make things infinitely more difficult for a certain sweet girl we both adore.”
That sobered Izzy at once. Kitty would certainly be intimidated by a room quite literally bursting with people, most of whom she didn’t know. She was doing so well with the Spinsters, but she had yet to be tested at an event of this magnitude.
“We’ll close ranks, if we must,” Izzy assured Charlotte, nodding to assure herself as well. “I am sure Annabelle would accommodate whatever we need.”
“I am not at all sure she would,” Charlotte muttered with a dark look. “I’ve never liked Annabelle Stafford, and I don’t intend to start today.”
“Why in the world did you accept her invitation, then?” Izzy laughed.
Charlotte raised a knowing brow. “Because she glares in outright jealousy at the attention I collect so easily, and it’s the most charming sort of fun. I can never resist. And I have it on good authority that her brother George finds me utterly irresistible.” She quirked her brows before gliding away with an emphatic swish of her gold skirts, the way parting before her, as it tended to do.
Izzy covered her mouth on a giggle, then turned the opposite way to find one of the others.
Annabelle Stafford had truly made a life for herself, and it was plain to see. While Charlotte did not care for her at all, Izzy had once been rather close with Annabelle. Before her wedding to the promising and dashing Mr. Stafford, of course. Back then, Annabelle King, as she had been known, had been widely considered a fair catch for any man, despite only a middling fortune. There had been some concern for her being a social climber, but what young woman was not eager to improve her station in life and her standing in Society? Those were all forgiven her, as she was so engaging as to make disliking her nearly impossible. Except for Charlotte, it seemed.
No surprise there.
Even Charlotte had tolerated her in the beginning, however, though not with any good graces. And then after what had happened between Annabelle and Izzy… Well, Charlotte had not been particularly forgiving, despite the minor nature of it all, and refused to view Annabelle in any favorable light after all that.
It was silly, even Izzy didn’t think about it anymore.
Most of the time.
Lady Hetty sat in a chair near a large window, her dark gown nearly the color of the night sky, and Izzy smiled warmly as she approached her.
“Lady Hetty,” she greeted with a curtsey. “I didn’t expect to see you here this evening.”
The elderly woman harrumphed and tapped her walking stick against the ground. “Where else should I be, Isabella? ‘Tis not yet time for my deathbed, or so Dr. Folsom informs me.”
Izzy chuckled and sat down beside her. “And until it is, you will go to everything, is that it?”
“Not everything, surely,” Lady Hetty protested as she watched the people about her. “I cannot stand some people and will never attend on them.”
“But you will attend for Annabelle Stafford?” Izzy pressed.
Now Lady Hetty sputtered loudly. “Not at all, I cannot abide her.”
“Yet here you are.”
Lady Hetty’s mouth curved. “I had to see for myself what sort of people the girl would bring into her home, and how she would parade her handsome husband about. People are a spectacle, Isabella, and I adore the view at times.”
Izzy laughed in surprise and leaned closer to the older woman. “Then I should request some tea cakes be brought to you so that you might eat your cake and have your cake as well.”
A wheezing, cackling laughter erupted from Lady Hetty, and she grinned at Izzy without reserve. “Well done, my dear, well done indeed. I do so love my cake.”
“I do hope you will leave some cake for me,” a pleasant male voice said near them.
Izzy turned in her chair to see Lieutenant Henshaw standing behind them, smiling warmly. “Lieutenant Henshaw! What a delightful surprise, we have missed you dreadfully since you went away.”
He bowed in acknowledgement. “And I have missed my delightful friends in return, Miss Lambert. Alas, the army does not care so very much about my feelings and my friends, and much prefers my fealty instead.”
“A well put turn of phrase, Lieutenant,” Lady Hetty praised, her chin dipping in a rare sign of approval.
He bowed to her as well. “Thank you, my lady. I do hope it has impressed you to the extent that you will dance with me this evening.”
“Oh, you silly rogue,” she protested, waving a lace kerchief at him. “Dancing at my age, indeed.”
Henshaw grinned without shame. “I will have a dance one day, Lady Hetty, and you will allow me.”
“Only if you’re dancing me to the grave, sir.”
“You will undoubtedly outlive us all, my lady, and well I think you know it.” He gave her a friendly wink, then bowed as Grace approached them.
“Good evening, Lieutenant,” Grace greeted, looking radiant in cream silk and blue ribbons. “Lady Hetty. Izzy.” She heaved a sigh and sat beside Izzy, her shoulders drooping.
Izzy peered at her with concern. “Something wrong, Grace?”
Grace’s dark eyes met Izzy’s, and a slight wrinkle appeared between her perfect brows. “My father wrote to me. He is most distressed that I have no suitors and no prospects for matrimony. According to him, there must be something lacking in my behavior to account for this, and it must be remedied at once.”
Lady Hetty rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath, while Izzy only reached out and took her friend’s hand.
“Preposterous,” Henshaw insisted, his brow darkening. “And I invite you to tell him I said so. That’s Lieutenant, as in an officer, and Henshaw, one N, no E at the end.”
Grace looked up at him wryly. “Unless you are willing to back that up with a proposal, Henshaw, I doubt my father would care.”
Henshaw smiled gently and bowed again. “The honor would be mine, Miss Morledge, but I do not have the prospects worthy of you, and it would likely only cause more of a difficulty for your father.”
Grace heaved a sigh. “I know. But some days, I think it would be quite lovely to elope and be cut off.”
“If you get in such a fit and are sincere in your consideration, I humbly volunteer,” he told her with a surprisingly benevolent air.
“As the bridegroom or my escape driver?” Grace asked, perfect lips curving in amusement.
Henshaw shrugged. “Whichever serves your purpose best.
”
“Very noble, I am sure,” Izzy muttered good-naturedly.
Henshaw chuckled and started to respond when another voice spoke.
“If Henshaw is anything at any time, you can be sure it is noble.”
Izzy prayed her cheeks would keep from flushing as she turned with the others to see Sebastian and Kitty arriving to their group, barely managing to keep her smile contained.
He looked marvelous in the finery of eveningwear, and it did nothing to help her sudden weakness in the face of his handsomeness, which she had often reflected on since they had spoken last.
She quickly turned her attention to Kitty, whose timid smile made her ache. The girl was a picture of loveliness in a pale pink that perfectly matched the color of her cheeks at the moment. She would attract a great deal of attention tonight, if she were not mindful.
Izzy rose and smiled at them. “Mr. Morton, Miss Morton, it is wonderful to see you both.”
“You always say it’s wonderful to see everyone,” Lady Hetty pointed out.
Grace snickered and Izzy turned to the older woman in exasperation. “I do not!”
“Yes, you do,” the majority of the others said.
Lady Hetty gave her a sympathetic look. “It’s a lovely habit, but it does tend to lessen the significance of it.”
“I believe Miss Lambert to genuinely be pleased to see my sister, Lady Hetty,” Sebastian told her with a polite incline of his head. “I am quite sure it is only polite to include me in her stated pleasure as well.”
Izzy glared at him playfully, but the others laughed.
Henshaw, oddly enough, was rather quiet for the moment.
Then it occurred to Izzy that he might not know Kitty, despite being such great friends with Sebastian.
“Lieutenant Henshaw,” she said at once, turning more towards him, “do you know Miss Morton?”
He shook his head, smiling very softly. “No, I have not had the pleasure.”
Sebastian glanced at his friend quickly. “Apologies, Henshaw.” He stepped slightly away from his sister and smiled at her proudly. “Kitty, may I present my friend, Lieutenant Edward Henshaw?”
Spinster and Spice (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 3) Page 15