Grace smiled for them both and turned for the store. “Where’s Kitty?” she asked as they turned in.
“Miranda absconded with her for the chance to know her better,” Sebastian told her, widening his eyes for effect.
“Oh my,” Grace murmured. “The poor dear. Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later.”
That was undoubtedly true.
Izzy smiled as Sebastian looked around the shop, clearly uncomfortable.
“Miss Lambert! Miss Morledge!” a bright voice called.
They turned to see Amelia Perry rushing towards them, her dark hair bouncing in perfect curls.
“And Mr. Morton, too! What a delight!” Amelia gushed. “What brings you all here?”
“Mr. Morton’s sister is preparing for her first Season,” Izzy explained as they moved towards the back.
Amelia peered around for Kitty, then looked at Izzy with confusion. “Where is Miss Morton?”
“Coming,” Grace assured her. “You know, I think the pair of you should meet. You would be great friends.”
Amelia brightened at the idea. “Oh, lovely! Then I must stay to meet her.” She sat in a nearby chair, apparently content. “I am always looking for friends, and if you approve of her, I am sure I will as well. And we shall help her find some new gowns, indeed we shall.”
Sebastian groaned as if in pain, and Izzy turned to him, laughing now. “You don’t have to stay, Sebastian.”
He brightened at once. “Really?”
Izzy looked at the others dryly. “Such hope.” She turned back to him. “No, you really don’t. You can leave. We will see Kitty home.”
He frowned slightly. “But you’re all alone.”
“Oh no, Mr. Morton,” Amelia chimed in. “My parents are coming to fetch me. I assure you, we will be quite safe.”
That seemed to satisfy him, and he nodded to them all, quickly making his escape.
Izzy shook her head, watching him go, and sank into a chair, Grace sitting beside her.
Then Grace leaned over. “Sebastian?” she murmured out of the corner of her mouth, her eyes flashing with interest.
Izzy’s face flamed, and she looked down at her hands.
Grace giggled very softly, but said nothing else, straightening once more. “Now we wait for Miranda and Kitty. Should we pray for the child?”
Amelia laughed, and Izzy tried to, but in truth, she would rather pray for herself at the moment.
Lord knew she would need it.
Chapter Fourteen
Choosing battles is a difficult business. It must be strategic and wise, beneficial to the task at hand, and, most importantly, provide an opportunity for improvement to one’s opposition. The breadth of such opportunity is entirely up to the battler, of course.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 25 July 1817
“Yes, yes, just like that. Oh, it’s perfect!”
“Hardly perfect, but I do think it works.”
Izzy threw Sebastian an amused look. “Correct me if I am wrong, but the idea is for you to put down on paper what I am envisioning in my mind, yes?”
Sebastian smirked and pushed at his rolled sleeves. “Yes…”
She tapped the sketch before them meaningfully. “This is what I envisioned for Molly Moose, bow and all.”
He returned her look, his smile rueful. “You imagined a pale blue bow that unravels the more the story goes on?”
Now Izzy laughed and withdrew her hand, rolling her eyes. “Fine, I might not have imagined that exact specification, but I think it is in keeping with the theme of the story!”
He chuckled and slid the Molly Moose sketches across the table, pulling out some of the others he’d spent time on, though they weren’t as finished as the rest. “Fair enough. What would you say to these for the Lucinda Lark story?”
Izzy leaned closer, eyeing the sketches, then nodded. “I think that could work out well. Perhaps give her home a bit more of a parlor feel?”
“With embroidery on the cushions?” he queried, smiling at her.
“Oh, why not?” she replied in a playful tone. “Lucinda is clearly a very accomplished lark.”
“Ah, then she must have a harpsichord,” Sebastian insisted as he turned to lean against the table. “All accomplished animals play the harpsichord.”
“Do they really?” Izzy hummed another laugh and pushed a coppery strand of hair away from her face. “How lovely.” Her brow creased for a moment as her eyes shifted.
“What?” Sebastian asked, familiar enough now with Izzy’s expressions and ways to know when she’d had a thought.
She glanced up at him, beginning to smile. “I’ve had another idea.”
He chuckled wryly and folded his arms. “Yes, so I gathered. Let’s hear it, then.”
She whacked his arm with a scoffing sound, then laughed to herself, her eyes dancing. “A harpsichord.”
Sebastian lifted his brows in surprise. “We’re writing about inanimate objects now?”
“No!” Izzy shook her head, turning back to the table, her mind clearly whirling with the ideas. “No, what about… Henrietta Hippopotamus? Who plays the harpsichord, and hits all the wrong keys?”
The idea sprang into his mind, fully formed, and he threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, I can see so many possibilities for that one, Iz. Henrietta could be an eternal optimist, and finds great joy in making music, no matter how poorly it is done.”
“And she is self-taught,” Izzy went on, grinning at him. “It is difficult to find a harpsichord instructor for a hippopotamus, after all.”
“Indeed, those would be hard to come by,” Sebastian agreed as he turned to pick up a pencil. He grabbed a blank sheet and began to roughly sketch. “But perhaps her neighbor…” He glanced at Izzy to go on.
Izzy leaned over the table in thought, pressing her forearms into the wood. “Cressida Crane.”
Sebastian shook his head in wonder. “Brilliant.” He continued with his sketching. “So, Cressida could be skilled in the viola, perhaps, and they create their own music lessons.”
“Yes!” Izzy cried with a laugh. “I can see the music recital for all their friends now.”
They shared a smile, and Sebastian found his attention drawing to her lips, as they tended to do when she was close, and he wrenched his gaze back to the sketch.
They were quite a pair, and their meetings had grown more and more productive as their ideas grew more aligned. He knew her tastes and she knew his abilities, and their collaborations became more and more exciting. They’d managed ten stories with sketches in various stages of completion, as Izzy had so many prepared before he began providing the artwork, and Frank had suggested they go for twice that many to complete the collection.
The first volume, at any rate.
It was a staggering thought, multiple volumes of her stories and his artwork, all to be published and sold in stores around London, and potentially in other cities as well.
Izzy hadn’t spoken about her ambitions for this venture beyond the actual publication, and he suspected she hadn’t considered it herself.
If the collection were half as successful as it had the potential to be, she would have to begin considering such things. But he couldn’t tell her that, not now. He couldn’t push her, couldn’t take over this project simply because his nature led him to think beyond the here and now. He didn’t want their meetings to grow formal and businesslike, couldn’t bear to have these delightful sessions of ideas and sketches turned into something less vibrant.
Whatever he’d begun to feel for this woman beside him before this was paling in light of what was now brewing.
It was not easily defined, nor was it easily thought on. All he knew was every moment with Izzy made him want another, and the strict behaviors and manners he had developed over the years were growing less and less structured.
There was comfort and ease with Izzy, in her nature and in her air, and one could not be with her and not feel such things seeping into them a
s well.
He hadn’t been so relaxed in ages, if ever.
“Izzy?”
Kitty’s voice interrupted Sebastian’s sudden pondering with a gentle stroke, and they both turned to face her.
His sister smiled warmly, a journal in her hand. “You will want time to get home and change before we’re all expected at the Sterlings’ this evening. I think Lady Sterling expects finer attire than our day dresses, don’t you?”
Izzy brushed off her skirts, sighing to herself. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Much as I would like to spend all of my time in comfortable calico, I don’t think it would be appropriate to attend their evening in it.” She pushed away from the table and looked up at the grandfather clock in the drawing room they’d rearranged to be their workroom. “Goodness, I had no idea we’d been at it so long.” She looked at Sebastian with an embarrassed smile. “I’ve taken up hours of your time.”
“I didn’t mind,” he admitted with a shrug, putting his pencils down and rolling his sleeves back down. “Never do.”
“And you were with me before that,” Kitty reminded them both. “We might have to make up a room for you in our house, Izzy, you’re so often here.”
That made Izzy laugh, and she shook her head very firmly. “That would not be wise at all, Kitty. I would pester Sebastian far too much were I always underfoot, and he would never get anything done but the drawings I would insist upon.”
Kitty flicked her eyes to Sebastian, a teasing smile playing at her lips. “He never does anything but your drawings anyway these days, so I’m not sure much would change.”
Sebastian coughed a startled laugh at his sister’s jest, bewildered and delighted by the change in her. She was almost as timid as before when in large gatherings, though she was improving, but in a more comfortable setting such as this she was lively and vivacious, and it pleased him beyond measure to see her so happy.
“I get everything done that needs to be done,” he informed his sister with a definite sniff. “Nothing is in any way lacking just because I sketch more now.”
Kitty lifted a shoulder in a helpless shrug and turned from the room, holding her journal to her chest.
Sebastian watched her go, then turned to Izzy again. “She teased me.”
Izzy nodded like a proud mother. “She did, indeed. And it’s about time, too. Someone should keep you on your toes when I’m not here.”
“Just what I need,” he muttered, hiding a smile as he collected up his sketches.
“Yes, I suspect it is,” Izzy retorted. She heaved a sigh and glanced at the clock once more. “I love the Sterlings, I do, but I wish I didn’t have to attend tonight.”
Sebastian grunted and set the pile of sketches at the corner of the table. “I can understand that. Lord Sterling is excellent company, and his wife is a perfect match for him, but it is likely that one will have to endure Hugh Sterling when in their home.”
Izzy nodded, folding her arms, shrinking in a bit by doing so. “Exactly. And Hugh is so vile towards the Spinsters now, sometimes quite vocally. You remember how he was with poor Prue at Georgie’s garden party last year?”
“I do,” Sebastian said, frowning at the recollection. The younger brother of Tony’s cousin was a passionate protestor of Izzy and her friends, somehow finding their actions to be infringing upon his more profligate way of life, though in truth, the Spinsters hardly affected anyone directly at all. Sebastian had never been on any great terms with Hugh Sterling, and he saw no reason to change that.
“I worry for Alice,” Izzy sighed. “He is her brother, so one cannot intercede there, but I don’t want her to hear his version of things rather than the truth. And if he sees Kitty too much in our company, he could make things difficult for her as well.”
Sebastian was shaking his head before she finished. “Don’t worry about Alice and Kitty, Iz. They’ll be all right. And Hugh Sterling can’t do much by way of injury for two girls fresh in their first Season.”
Izzy made a soft noise of disagreement. “I think you underestimate just how violently he is against the Spinsters, and the lengths he will go to for our humiliation.”
She might have been right there, but he couldn’t see how anyone could feel that way. Still, he was not about to argue the point. “Will it be horrible?”
“Well, it depends on whether Hugh is intoxicated or not. The drink loosens his tongue and makes everything worse.”
“Will he come after you all?” he asked, cocking his head in consideration.
Her chin dipped in a nod. “Most likely. And he’ll prod at me. It’s a new pastime of his. Mostly harmless, but…”
Sebastian straightened at once. “What does he say?” he demanded roughly, a flash of irritation hitting his gut.
Izzy looked at him, giving him a humorless smile. “ ‘Miss Lambert won’t bite back,’ ” she mimicked. “ ‘Miss Lambert is a good sort.’ ‘Sweet Isabella, always a good girl doing what she’s told.’ ‘She won’t say a word.’ ” She tried to brighten her smile but failed. “What everybody else thinks, but doesn’t say, I expect.”
He didn’t care for that one bit, either that it was thought or that Hugh said it.
“So, don’t,” he told her simply.
Izzy frowned at him. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t be a good girl. Say something. Bite back. Don’t let him do that.”
“It’s not that important,” she protested without energy, shaking her head.
Sebastian gave her a hard look. “It is. To me, it is.”
His words surprised her, he could see, and he only hoped she would consider them for what they were. That she would take them to heart. That something might change for her.
“This is the difficult part of defending yourself, Izzy,” he murmured as gently as he could. “You risk discomfort and embarrassment, and possibly giving offense. But you need to remind those who have forgotten that you are, in fact, human, in possession of feelings, opinions, and thoughts, not a drapery to be assessed, criticized, or debated about. You don’t simply exist to enhance the surroundings or dress whatever window someone wishes to look through. You are flesh and blood, and ought to be respected as such.”
Izzy was silent for a moment, then smiled just a little. “You sound like Georgie.”
He laughed once. “Take that back.”
Her smile grew and she shook her head. “No, I won’t. And besides, you said it much better than she usually does.”
“Did I?” he asked, pleased despite the ridiculousness. “Wonderful.”
“You did,” she assured him. “Very eloquent and very refreshing.” The smile deepened, causing a peculiar tug in his chest. “And incredibly kind.”
He made a soft noise of acknowledgement, keeping his attention on Izzy, everything within him already attuned to her. “I will always be kind with you, Iz,” he heard himself murmur. “I find it impossible to be anything else. And you deserve no less.”
He watched in wonder as her complexion turned rosy, heightening the near perfect cheekbones he’d never quite noticed before, the quivering edges of her smile he wanted to touch, and the brilliant shade of her eyes that captivated him.
Were she closer, he would have taken her hand, would have run his fingers over the delicate skin, would have tried to ascertain if her pulse raced at this moment the way his seemed to. But alas for distance, though it was undoubtedly better, he could only do the best a look could manage.
He prayed a look could be enough.
“I must go,” Izzy murmured, averting her eyes, which made him smile. “Or else I will be late to the Sterlings’.”
“We can’t have that,” Sebastian sighed, pushing off from the table. “Tony would be offended on behalf of the family, and it might take a great deal of groveling to make up for it.”
Izzy almost laughed but refrained in favor of a tight smile. She curtseyed quickly and hurried to the door, then paused, looking over her shoulder. “Sebastian?”
He hadn’t bo
thered to look away from her and smiled. “Yes?”
Her eyes suddenly rose to his in a rather frank manner. “I really like it when you call me Iz.” Then she was gone.
His breath vanished in a swift rush of air, and he leaned back against the table for support. He ran a hand over his face, laughed, then found himself grinning madly. He hadn’t even realized he had given her a new name, it had felt so natural, and now to discover that she enjoyed it…
She liked his name for her, did she?
What a delightful revelation!
He pushed away from the table again, whistling jauntily to himself.
Suddenly, a night at the Sterlings’ seemed like a very good idea.
Francis and Janet Sterling were tasteful, sensible people, and possessed a measure of elegance that many people would spend their entire lives striving for, which was why it was all the more bewildering that Hugh Sterling was so clearly the opposite.
Izzy watched Hugh for a moment as he lingered along the far wall, leaning as though the wall alone held him up. He bore the bleary eyes and disheveled appearance they had all come to accept as his usual one of late, which could not be good for the Spinsters.
He had glared at each of them individually as they came in, though he had yet to approach or say anything.
Small mercies.
Now Izzy sat beside Lady Hetty, as per usual, and found herself growing a trifle sad watching Hugh be disgruntled and miserable.
“He wasn’t always like that,” Izzy murmured aloud.
“What’s that, dear?” Lady Hetty asked, leaning closer.
Izzy indicated Hugh where he stood, though he was frowning at the improvised dancing that had begun. “Hugh Sterling. He wasn’t always that way.”
Lady Hetty grunted and tapped her walking stick against the floor. “No, but that isn’t saying much. He didn’t have much to recommend him before he lost his better judgment.” The older woman looked at Izzy sharply. “Why are you giving a moment’s thought to Hugh Sterling? Surely you aren’t fond of him.”
Spinster and Spice (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 3) Page 18