“Surely not,” she insisted, though her eyes danced. “There are many beautiful women here, and several very attractive men.”
He swallowed with some difficulty, his heart in his throat. “I see none of them. I see only you.”
He saw her breath stutter, saw the color moving into her cheeks, saw how it spread across the paleness of her skin, and watched as she, too, struggled to swallow. Her lips moved, but no words escaped.
“Dance with me, Iz,” he murmured, extending a hand.
Izzy exhaled slowly, unsteadily, then placed her hand in his. He led her to the dance, feeling as anxious as though it were his very first dance and all eyes were on him.
“Kitty told me you aren’t fond of dancing,” Izzy whispered beside him, her hand trembling even more than Kitty’s had been. “She said you only tolerate it.”
“This is true.” He glanced over at her, letting his mouth curve. “Why do you mention it?”
Izzy’s eyes shifted his way, but never quite made it. “I’m only curious… do you only tolerate it when you dance with me?”
Her uncertainty amused him and concerned him. Could she not know? Could she not see?
He squeezed her hand as they joined in the dance. “No,” he assured her when their eyes met. “No, I find I’ve never enjoyed dancing more than with you.”
Her eyes brightened as they parted in the dance, and he watched her as he moved through the motions, changing partners for brief moments, then returning to her.
“And tonight, I had to dance with you,” he informed her as they promenaded hand in hand.
Izzy waited until they were face to face, waiting for other couples to finish. “Why?”
He smiled at her and waited until they were close once more. “Because I wish I could kiss you, and this is as close as we will get here.”
Her eyes widened and she looked away quickly.
He could feel the skittering of her pulse while her hand sat in his, and he thrilled with the feel of it.
They moved again, circled each other, exchanged partners, then returned to each other. “You are coming tomorrow evening, right?” Izzy asked.
Confused by the change in subject, he gave her a sharp look. “To your home? For the musical evening?”
She raised her eyes to his as she moved away from him. “Yes.”
He nodded as they stared at each other across the lines. “I’ll be there.”
A satisfied light appeared in her features, and her lips curved. “Good,” she told him.
When he drew close in the dance, she sighed lightly. “I know all of the secret nooks and crannies. And when we could escape.”
Sebastian nearly laughed in his surprise but by some miraculous feat managed to keep his face impassive. “You devious woman…”
Izzy giggled and looked up at him as she circled once more. “You just said you wished you could kiss me,” she reminded him.
“I did,” he confirmed as she moved back to her line.
When it came his turn to circle, she added, “It just so happens that the feeling is mutual.”
Years of practice and experience kept him from stumbling then, but it was impossible to look anywhere but at her, no matter what the dance required. The most intense desire to sweep her up and kiss her senseless had never been stronger, and his better inclination was rapidly losing the battle within him.
Izzy smirked at him when she saw how he looked. “What’s that look for?” she teased.
A corner of his mouth lifted in a smile as they came together for the next movement. “I am trying to decide how much of a gentleman I really am. I’ve never had to properly consider that before now.”
She laughed and kept her face forward. “Why?”
He matched her expression. “I’ve never been sorely tempted to cause a scandal before.”
He felt her startled movement in his grasp and fought a grin.
She cleared her throat when she settled. “Scandals aren’t permitted at Almack’s.”
“You see my dilemma.”
“Indeed.”
“So, what would you suggest?”
Izzy made a soft humming noise that seemed to run the course of his arm and into his chest. “I cannot say, sir. Spinsters never cause scandals.”
He bit back a laugh and they parted in the dance, forming into lines again. “More’s the pity,” he murmured, staring at her with as much frankness as he dared.
And Lord bless her, Izzy stared back much the same, an impish smile on her tempting lips. “Indeed.”
Chapter Eighteen
There is nothing so refreshing as well-performed music. Provided anyone is listening.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 27 March 1818
Sebastian had been to a number of musical gatherings in his life, and many of them very fine indeed, but he could honestly say he had never paid as much attention to the surroundings and atmosphere of one. Now that he was illustrating a story about musical animals, such details were suddenly of great interest to him.
Oh, he was a great admirer of music, and would always listen appropriately and applaud politely regardless of the skill of the performers involved, but he had never paid attention to the arrangement of the rooms in question.
Not that there should be anything specific or noteworthy about such things, but he felt it should be given all due diligence for the sake of his art.
It was also serving to distract him from blatantly staring at Izzy. If he stared at her, he would think about her more, and if he thought about her more, he would think about last night, and if he thought about the night before, he would think about her suggestion.
And if he thought about her suggestion, he would start watching her every move on the off chance that she would suddenly disappear into parts unknown of the house for the escape she had promised.
He tugged at his cravat, which was suddenly too tight, and focused on studying the arrangement of chairs and instruments.
The Lamberts had greeted him warmly this evening, as they ever did, and Mrs. Lambert had asked when they might have the pleasure of he and Kitty for dinner again.
He’d been tempted to reply ‘on a night when Izzy wouldn’t be sent to eat with the children’, but instead, he’d deferred to any night that Mrs. Lambert deemed appropriate.
Kitty had seemed delighted by being invited again, though she was delighted with being invited anywhere, now that the Season had commenced. Each one brought a measure of delight mingled with nerves, and the delight was beginning to outweigh the nerves.
His timid younger sister was growing almost bold.
Almost.
He scanned the room for her, pleased to find her once again with Amelia Perry. He was surprised that Alice Sterling had joined them and seemed to be finding their company quite pleasant. It would do Kitty good to have friends closer to her own age, and ones with similar interests.
Not that the Spinsters hadn’t been wonderful for her, but with the fervor that tended to surround them in London as a whole, he worried what a fresh young miss could experience if tied to them so closely.
Elinor was a prime example of such things.
And Elinor was nowhere near those three. She sat by Lady Hetty, scowling at any male who happened to venture too close.
He shuddered at the sight. Though she was still very young, Elinor embodied everything one thought of when they heard the word spinster. He did not envy her parents the task of dealing with that.
A movement off to his right caught his attention and he turned to see Izzy’s sister and her husband joining the group of Lambert siblings that had gathered not too far from him.
Izzy smiled at her sister, then looked at her more carefully before giving her a bewildered look.
Catherine laughed merrily, fluffing out her skirts. “Izzy, I borrowed your blue silk for the evening. I know you don’t mind, and it does flatter me so.”
William chortled a surprised laugh, while David shook his head. “Catherine, you don’t even
live here.”
“Hush, David,” she replied with a scolding look. “Izzy never minds when any of us do anything.”
Sebastian’s brows shot up at that, and he watched the group more carefully. Izzy’s mouth was set in a tight smile, while the brothers laughed again.
“This is true,” David agreed. “She never minded when William stole her dolls, or when we all complained about the meal and had it changed. Where we slept in the nursery, when we made her stop playing the pianoforte, when we needed another person to play with us in the fields…”
“See?” Catherine cried, flinging out a hand towards her sister. “Izzy never minds anything, as I said.”
Sebastian eyed Izzy, who had looked down at her hands, where her fingers laced with each other.
Come on, Iz, he urged in his mind. Come on, say something…
Why it was so crucial that she suddenly do so, he could not have said, but knowing her inclination to say nothing, particularly with her family, he could not bear to see her endure such teasing without a word, however innocently it was meant.
“She doesn’t even mind being a spinster all that much,” William pointed out, laughing to the rest. “She just patiently bears it, same as she does everything else.”
Sebastian hissed softly through his teeth, knowing how such an accusation would sting. It was meant to be praise, he knew, but it would have quite the opposite effect on Izzy.
And she deserved to say so.
Izzy raised her eyes slowly, her smile less forced, but her eyes hard. “Of course I mind it, William. No one wishes to remain unmarried and be a burden upon their family or the brunt of Society’s pity and scorn. I do patiently bear it because I have no other option. I don’t require anyone to feel sorry for me, nor do I expect to be treated with more gentleness because of my unmarried state.”
The words were said in the kindest tone imaginable, but the recoil in the expression of each member of that group told a different story. Her response was as unexpected as it was overdue.
She looked around at her siblings, her eyes softening even as she swallowed with difficulty. “And that’s not all I mind. In fact, I minded all of it. I hated being stopped from playing, and I hated being dragged out to play in the field when I wanted to stay inside and read. I despised when you changed the menu because it was usually something I had wanted.”
The brothers looked at each other in outright bewilderment, then seemed to consider Izzy in a new light.
Izzy turned to her sister and took her hand. “I do mind when you borrow my clothes, Catherine, because you never return them.”
Catherine’s mouth began to work, but her husband put a hand on her arm, keeping her from replying.
“I couldn’t complain about the nursery arrangements because it upset all of you so much when I did,” Izzy confessed, the words coming easier now. She shrugged helplessly. “I mind a great deal more than anyone ever expects me to. I never said anything because I didn’t think confrontation and contention would solve anything. It wasn’t worth the effort.”
Her eyes filled with tears, even as she smiled with love at her siblings. “But make no mistake, I felt everything. Even a spinster feels things.”
There was silence among the group, even as the general murmur of the rest of the room continued.
Sebastian held his breath, delighted beyond words and prouder than he knew was possible. Izzy seemed to glow with her confidence, a tower of strength and power, yet without any of the spite that anyone else might have done.
“I’m sorry, Izzy,” David said with surprising gentleness, a sad air about his manner now.
Izzy turned to her oldest brother with a fond smile. “You don’t need to be. I know that no harm was ever meant. I just needed you to know.”
Her brother smiled in return, then leaned over to kiss her cheek, making Izzy’s smile quiver as a tear or two escaped.
A lump formed in Sebastian’s throat as he watched the scene, and it faintly occurred to him to look away, to let them have this private moment. But he continued to stare, unable to take his eyes off of Izzy.
Her brothers laughed and wiped her tears away, and even Catherine seemed to be smiling at her sister with an increase of warmth and understanding. Izzy said something Sebastian didn’t catch, but it made them all laugh, and she stepped away from them, moving towards the refreshments.
Which Sebastian happened to be standing beside.
He watched her come, knowing he should look away, be less obvious, have some of the reserve he was known for.
He couldn’t manage it.
She kept a small smile on her face, one that told him she was secretly pleased with herself, though he knew she had to have been fairly terrified by taking such a stance with her family. Her cheeks were rosy and there was no trace of the tears from moments ago upon them. Her gown was of purest white and seemed to float with the effortlessness of clouds, which made the rich color of her hair seem more vibrant by comparison.
Had she been encompassed by rays of light she could not have looked more angelic to him than she did at this moment.
“Iz,” he breathed when she was close enough, her name catching almost painfully in his throat.
She paused, looking up at him, the brilliance of her eyes striking him to his very core.
He shook his head in disbelief, in wonder, in adoration. “You’re magnificent.”
There was a slight widening of her eyes, and her throat moved, but other than that, her expression didn’t change. She cleared her throat, then came to the table beside him, focused on the task of getting herself punch.
Would she say nothing? Would she leave him standing here after such a confession and…?
Her hand brushed against his, confounding his breathing in a shockingly effective manner.
Had she meant to do that?
He kept his attention forward, surveying the guests, not truly seeing a single person or detail as every fiber of his being was suddenly attuned to his left hand.
He waited, hoping, not daring to breathe…
She brushed it again, and he flexed his fingers quickly in response.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smile twitch, and felt his lips react similarly.
She stood at the table, glass of punch in hand, and slowly began to sip, her back to the room, her eyes suddenly darting to his. He held her gaze, still facing forward, his heart pounding against every one of his ribs.
Once more her hand brushed his own, and this time he seized it, gripping her fingers without shame.
The cup in her other hand trembled slightly, and her lashes fluttered, her eyes still on his.
Saints above, had anything ever felt so right?
He slowly loosened his hold on her fingers only to feel them move against his, sliding more fully into his hand, gripping and stroking against the suddenly thin fabric of his glove.
He moved his thumb against her own glove, wishing he could wear away the fabric to the skin beneath and caress there until it was red as the glow on her cheeks.
Izzy exhaled shakily, the sound drawing a groan from his chest, which he barely bit back.
Her eyes darkened, and she gave one more distinct brush of her fingers against his hand, the sensation burning as though he’d had the prints of those fingers branded against the skin.
He could only wish for such a permanent mark.
She began to pull her hand back, but he resisted just long enough to press his thumb into the center of her palm, determined to leave just as lasting an impression on her.
Her eyes lowered from his, widening as she took in their hands, then slowly dragging back up to his.
Sebastian dipped his chin in the smallest degree of acknowledgement, and she responded with another tempting twitch of her lips.
He released the pressure against her hand, and she backed away from the table, letting her fingers graze against his until the last possible moment. Then she gave him a faint wink and turned to cross the room, her
destination unclear, her pace sedate.
Sebastian exhaled roughly, then swallowed against his suddenly-parched throat.
It now seemed entirely possible that he would not survive the night.
And that was a giddy feeling indeed.
Oh, she was in for it now…
Her hand still tingled and pulsed almost irritably within its glove, but she dared not even look down at it.
She half-expected the glove to be singed away in parts and looking at the evidence would only make things worse.
Heart pounding, breath unsteady, she downed the last of her punch without any pretense at manners, then handed it off to one of their footmen, unable to thank him or acknowledge him or anything of the kind. The liquid almost burned in her throat, though it had been pleasant enough before.
Why had she teased him? Why had she decided she had to touch him?
Oh, because she couldn’t have all out kissed him in full view of everyone in her family and friends just because he had called her magnificent.
Magnificent… In all honesty, he was the magnificent one. He, who had encouraged her to stand up for herself, to use her voice, to be more than a well-bred servant to those around her, was magnificent. He, who had given new life to her stories and found just as much of a thrill in their creation as she did, was magnificent.
He, who could leave her breathless with a look or a touch, was magnificent.
And she would swear now that his eyes were still upon her. She could feel them, and every fiber of her being and hair on her head was distracted with the sensation.
How in the world did women in love ever accomplish anything of productivity or sense like this?
She was entirely worthless and helpless at the moment, and she doubted even conversation would be possible.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” her father suddenly announced from the front of the room, “we will now begin our performances, if you will kindly take your seats.”
Spinster and Spice (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 3) Page 24