Spinster and Spice (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 3)

by Rebecca Connolly

  “Of Hugh Sterling?” Elinor chortled as she came near them, plopping herself into the seat beside Izzy. “Heaven and angels forbid. What a waste of name and space.”

  “Elinor,” Izzy scolded softly, smiling as Amelia Perry walked by.

  The girl gave her an utterly superior look. “What, Izzy? You object?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes, Elinor,” Izzy snapped as she focused on adjusting her gloves. “I take no pleasure in seeing what he is doing to himself, and I feel sad for him.”

  “You are kinder than he deserves, Isabella,” Lady Hetty told her with a would-be gentle pat to her hands.

  Though she knew Lady Hetty meant well, the gesture felt pitying and condescending.

  Why must everyone find her inclination to sympathize something to be pitied?

  “I’d be less hateful towards him were he less vile towards us,” Elinor muttered, shifting in her seat. “His hatred fuels my own.”

  Izzy rolled her eyes, shaking her head. There was no explanation for Elinor’s vindictive streak, nor her strange passion for spinsterhood. She was barely twenty years old, and there was nothing remotely resembling a spinster about her, apart from the miserly attitude one generally associated with unmarried women of a certain age.

  She’d wind up a spinster in truth through her own efforts, if she were not careful.

  Izzy well knew that it wasn’t something to be sought after.

  “W-what’s wrong, Izzy?” Prue’s voice asked nearby.

  Izzy turned and saw her friend approach on the arm of her husband, Camden, and both were watching her with concern.

  Elinor snorted softly. “Izzy was just defending Hugh Sterling.”

  “I was not,” Izzy protested looking at Elinor in disgruntlement. “I neither defended nor excused him.”

  “I should say not,” Cam scoffed, looking over at the man in question. “Nothing worth defending or excusing.”

  “Amen to that,” Elinor muttered.

  Prue still watched Izzy, frowning slightly. “Then w-what was it?”

  Izzy didn’t think she could bear trying to explain it again, not with Camden there. He had once blackened Hugh’s eye for what he had said about Prue and Georgie, and he was undoubtedly more inclined to take Elinor’s view than Izzy’s.

  Yet she found herself looking up at Camden, his attention back on her, his eyes seeing too much.

  “Ah,” he murmured in a low voice. “I see your mind, Isabella Lambert, and the good heart you possess.”

  “Don’t tease me, Camden,” she tried to retort, though it was weak.

  Camden shook his head once. “I’m not. Having been a villain a time or twelve, I think you’ll find I understand the journey well. You feel bad for him.”

  Izzy chewed the inside of her lip, glancing at Hugh again. “In a way.”

  “You know how he once was,” Camden went on, lowering his voice further still, “and what he is now. And you are sorry for it.”

  Now Izzy nodded, swallowing a little. “And for his family. I cannot be angry so much as sad. I know he may not deserve it, but…”

  Camden interrupted her with a soft laugh. “Trust me, Izzy, we villains are most grateful for that which we do not deserve.”

  Izzy smiled as Camden leaned down to kiss Prue’s cheek with the gentlest of caresses. Prue’s cheeks flamed at once, but she gave Camden such an adoring look it made Izzy ache inside.

  No matter how different Camden and Prudence Vale were in personality and temperament, they were the most devoted and envied of couples.

  If only Izzy had such a love herself.

  Something sharp and hot seemed to bounce about in her chest, and a too-familiar, handsome face swam in her mind’s eye.

  Sebastian.

  She shivered and wrenched her thoughts away from him, determined not to be one of those silly creatures that would think more on a man and his behavior towards her without any certainty of its intention. Sebastian was a wonderful man, a kind man, and a gentleman. He would never intentionally make her feel and hope for things that he did not intend to give, but in their familiarity of late, it would be only too easy to mistake his warmth for more than friendship.

  Much as she might begin to wish for it.

  “Oh, Lord, someone save her.”

  Izzy jerked at Charlotte’s voice, only to find her friend staring in Hugh’s direction. She followed her gaze, and saw Alice next to her brother, listening to whatever he was saying with a furrowed brow. Hugh didn’t seem to be scolding her, but he was clearly impassioned about his topic.

  Alice didn’t appear to be particularly miserable, though it was possible she was as used to her brother’s ways as anyone else and simply tolerating it. But a girl of her age could be quite impressionable, and if she were spending more of her time with Hugh and less with Francis, she would be listening to the less sensible of the brothers.

  “Is it necessary to steer her away from her brother?” Izzy asked of the group. “It’s not as though he’s a danger to her.”

  “Yes,” almost everyone around her said, and she glanced around to find that Grace had joined them, as had Georgie, who groaned.

  “I’ve only just arrived,” Georgie whined, shaking her head, “and already I’m forced to intervene.”

  Izzy made to rise. “I can go.”

  Georgie stopped her with a look. “She’s my relation. I’ll go.” She sighed and smiled at Camden. “Cam, if I introduce you, will you dance with her? The less time she spends with Hugh tonight, the better.”

  “Of course,” Camden replied with a nod, “if you truly think I am better company.”

  His dubious tone made them all smile, as usual.

  “For the first time in recent memory, Mr. Vale,” Georgie informed him as she passed, “you are the lesser of two evils. Congratulations.”

  He chuckled and moved to stand with Prue beside Lady Hetty, leaning against a pillar. He eyed all the gathered Spinsters, then looked around the room. “No Edith tonight?”

  “No,” Grace sighed with disappointment. “I tried to convince her, but she would not.”

  Camden frowned, shaking his head. “We have got to draw her out somehow. This is not a great Society event, though the Sterlings are surely Society. It would have been a good event for her.”

  “And yet she would not,” stated the low, pleasant voice of Lieutenant Henshaw as he reached them. He shook his head and shrugged as he moved to shake Camden’s hand. “Much as I tried.”

  “You’ve been to see her?” Grace asked, giving Henshaw a curious look. “When? I was only there this morning.”

  Henshaw returned her look with a smile. “As her unofficial brother in London, I call upon Lady Edith once a week. We must have crossed paths today, Miss Morledge. May I ask what you were doing there?”

  Grace’s lips curved into a rueful smile. “Edith and I were commiserating on our shared experience of being daughters who disappoint their fathers.” She fluttered her lashes playfully, but Izzy could see the strain in her features. There was real pain in her father’s disapproval.

  Izzy held out a hand and Grace took it, squeezing tight.

  “I’ve met your father once,” Charlotte told her slowly, coming around the chairs to Grace, “and I was not particularly impressed.” She kissed Grace on the cheek and wrapped an arm about her waist. “I think you’d best be disappointed in him rather than the other way around.”

  Grace hummed a noncommittal noise, her smile tight.

  “Come on, Grace,” Camden said, striding out from the pillar. “Best solution for disappointed fathers is a lively dance. I should know, I made a living out of disappointing my father.”

  “You had a father?” Charlotte asked Camden with derision.

  He pulled Grace away and gave Charlotte a sardonic look she was only too pleased to return.

  Sometimes, Izzy wondered if Camden and Charlotte were siblings, despite their legitimacy in their respective families.

  “Izzy…”
<
br />   Prue’s hesitant, warning tone brought Izzy up, and she looked where Prue indicated.

  Sebastian and Kitty had apparently arrived, and while Sebastian made polite conversation with Francis and Janet, Alice Sterling had somehow escaped Georgie and commandeered Kitty, who was now being introduced to Hugh.

  “Where did Georgie go?” Izzy asked of anyone.

  “Miranda has her,” Elinor reported at once, “and Tony’s over by Francis.”

  Izzy grumbled and rose to her feet. “This will be pleasant.” She started forward only to find Henshaw accompanying her. She glanced up at him in surprise and amusement. “I don’t recall requesting reinforcements, Lieutenant.”

  He smiled politely at her. “A good soldier doesn’t need asking, Miss Lambert. Lead on.”

  It wasn’t much of a comfort to have a witness to whatever was about to commence, but Henshaw might ensure that Hugh was civil.

  Hugh saw them coming and dashed that hope rather quickly. “Oh, good, the Spinster and her lackey are come to save the fair maidens.”

  Henshaw growled beside her, and Hugh barely batted an eye in his direction.

  Izzy smiled as politely as possible at him. “I only came to greet your sister, Mr. Sterling, as I had the pleasure of meeting her before, and I had hoped to introduce Miss Morton to you.”

  Kitty seemed to whimper in distress, eyeing the people around, clearly uncomfortable beside Alice.

  Hugh eyed Kitty briefly. “She’s as bad as the goat, isn’t she? But perhaps more coherent.”

  “Hugh,” Alice scolded, sounding shocked by the venom in his voice, if not the words.

  “Miss Morton, I’m to fetch you for your brother,” Henshaw bit out, keeping his attention on Hugh. “He’d like to dance with you, if Miss Sterling doesn’t mind the deprivation.”

  Kitty squeaked some sort of answer and moved to Henshaw, who held an arm out to her. She looped her arm through his, her eyes lowered to the floor, her cheeks growing rosier by the moment.

  “Hugh, why would you say that?” Alice demanded once Kitty was out of earshot. “Miss Morton is very sweet, and what will Miss Lambert think?”

  Hugh sneered at Izzy. “Miss Lambert thinks nothing. Miss Lambert is always so good and kind, she would never rise to the baiting. She is above the wounds of mortal man. She will save any young woman she can from a depraved soul like myself. Oh, yes, Miss Lambert is a saint among we poor sinners, and we are blessed by her benevolence, are we not?”

  Alice stared at her brother in horror, blinking her wide eyes that shifted to Izzy in outright confusion.

  Instinct told Izzy to tamp down the bristling, to rise above such childish prodding, and to ignore it and move on, as she had always done. What could be served by responding?

  A movement nearby caught her eye, and she saw Sebastian, now standing near them, his hands balled into fists at his sides, his eyes on her. He dipped his chin in the barest hint of a nod.

  Right. Defense.

  Izzy slid her gaze to Hugh and forced her smile. “I was feeling sorry for you earlier, Mr. Sterling.”

  He blinked at her words, obviously not what he had expected her to stay.

  “Not because I am a particularly benevolent person, but because I am a human one.” She swallowed the rawness in her throat and the sudden burning there. “And I see at this moment the pain in your sister’s eyes at what you’ve said. Yes, I know very well what you think of me, and of my goodness, but I wonder what you think of hers. I wonder why you feel you may attack an innocent young woman purely because she associates with me.” Heat began to seep into her cheeks, and she fisted her hands. “I have never done you wrong and have only held sympathy for whatever trials you face that lead you to behave in such a way. I have grown used to your attacks on me, and you are right, I never rise to them. But you are gravely mistaken if you think I do not feel the wounds inflicted upon me.” Her eyes burned fiercely, but she could not blink now. Not if she wanted to get through this. “If you wish to sink yourself into whatever pit you think to find comfort in, be my guest, sir. But perhaps if you were a little more like the good and a little less like the depraved, you might see that the wounds you inflict hurt more than only your target. Excuse me.”

  She swept away, her knees shaking with a fear she had not expressed, and her breath a little panicked for what she’d said.

  It had felt so good, so exhilarating, and yet so unnatural.

  What had she done?

  “Iz,” Sebastian murmured, his voice sounding awed and pleased as she passed him.

  She shook her head, despite the pleasant tickle his nickname stirred within her. “Dance with your sister,” she told him quietly. “Don’t make Henshaw a liar.”

  She didn’t wait to see if he did so and kept moving.

  She had to.

  Defense of herself did not come easily, and it did not sit well, for some reason. Had she said too much? Had she gone too far? Should there have been more? She left matters such as this to the bold and secure, not to herself, who was so submissive by habit and insecure in all things. She would replay it over and over in her mind this evening and into the night, likely not sleep well, and the urge to write out an apology and send it before the morning post would come crashing down upon her shortly.

  Lord, if her mother were to find out…

  “Miss Lambert.”

  She drew up short, manners and politeness reigning supreme. “Yes?”

  Lord Sterling stood there, extending a hand, his features arranged in contrition, if not outright pleading. “Will you let me have this dance?”

  She stared at him, dying beyond anything to refuse, yet seeing his need for her to accept.

  One could have too much willfulness in a single evening.

  She nodded quickly. “Of course, my lord. Of course.” She turned and put her hand in his, letting him lead.

  “I don’t know what was said, Izzy, and I don’t care,” Lord Sterling murmured in a very low voice, his smile fixed in place. “I beg you to forget it and let me apologize for him.”

  “I don’t hold you to any part of it,” she told him, trying for the same sort of smile. “I know better than to think he reflects any of you.”

  “You are generous.”

  She gave him a look. “No, I’m not,” she said flatly.

  His smile was suddenly more natural. “If you think this doesn’t feel generous to me, who is quite ashamed at the present, you are sadly mistaken.” He leaned closer and whispered, “And you have to know that Janet and I know very well you aren’t nearly as good as everybody thinks. Better than most, but hardly perfect.”

  Izzy laughed and felt the tension within her ebb away a touch. “I don’t think you could have said anything better.”

  “Good.” He straightened and cleared his throat. “Now we had better make this a fine dance indeed, Miss Lambert. Mr. Morton is dancing with his sister, and I feel quite sure he would trade her for you as partner if I give him an inch.”

  At once her attention turned to Sebastian, who was fixed on her with an intensity that clutched at her chest. Pride, concern, and warmth shone in his countenance, even with his reserve and discretion. She could see all of it clearly, and it moved her.

  “Oh…” she eventually said as they took their place.

  Lord Sterling raised a brow. “Should I give him an inch, Miss Lambert?”

  Izzy stared at Sebastian for a moment longer, let her lips almost curve, then turned her attention to her partner with a full, teasing smile. “Not even half of one, my lord.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Retaliation is a sword that is swift and sure. Few who wield it know how, and those that do know better.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 23 September 1815

  Her pen flew along the page, the words coming to her with clarity and purpose beyond anything she’d experienced yet. Description and prose formed with remarkable effortlessness, pristine in its creation and pure in its flow. Her fingers would be smudged b
eyond anything she’d experienced yet, her haste in not waiting for the ink to dry leaving its evidence clearly.

  She didn’t care.

  Couldn’t care.

  Finally… finally she felt her imagination magnifying itself and showing her the extent of its expanse. The worlds it could create, the characters it could wield, and all the glorious beauties within its scope.

  It was perfect. Absolutely and unimaginably perfect.

  “What in the world can be that exciting about Fashion Forum?”

  Izzy snapped her head up and looked wide-eyed at Georgie, sitting nearby and sipping her tea.

  Her cousin seemed mildly amused by Izzy’s response, but wildly curious about what she had been engaged in.

  Fashion Forum? Was that…?

  Izzy paled as she looked around the room and realized that in a room filled with Spinsters, she had been caught up feverishly in her new story.

  She hadn’t said a single word about anything fashion related, unless one considered the brooch that Belinda Beaver had purchased in the tale as something worthy of mention. As that particular brooch happened to be made from honeycomb, Izzy highly doubted it would count.

  “Oh, Izzy’s quite passionate about the tartan calico that has become so popular of late,” Edith smoothly commented from the corner where she worked on the lead article. “We talked all about it just the other day, didn’t we, dear?”

  Izzy nodded fervently, smiling at Edith, who was nodding emphatically at her. “Yes, we did.”

  “What, because Edith’s Scottish?” Charlotte asked, looking up from her Quirks and Quotes draft. “That Highland bit of her?”

  Edith looked at her ruefully. “Bit of me? Charlotte, that bit is the majority of me. I’m from Inverness, lass, and you don’t get much more Highland than that.”

  Charlotte waved a hand at her. “Yes, yes, dear, I’m quite aware. That lovely brogue of yours reminds me at every turn.”

  “Yes,” Izzy said again, wondering if Charlotte would venture into Scottish and English relations over tea and cakes. “I thought I would get Edith’s perspective on the recent trend, given all that history.”