Izzy’s heart leapt into her throat. Did she want Sebastian to sit beside her or did she want him in the furthest corner away from her? Both would have advantages, though those advantages were starkly different from each other.
Did she want to be with sense or without? Did she want to be coherent or not?
Did she want to escape without being observed or not?
Her face flamed, and she immediately moved to sit beside Prue, taking great care to select the seat on the aisle so as to prevent anyone else from sitting beside her.
Prue turned to smile at her and took her hand. “You look very p-pretty, Izzy,” she told her quietly. “I love what you have done with your hair. The white ribbon really is an elegant t-touch.”
Izzy sighed, smiling warmly at her sweet friend. “Thank you. Your gown is exquisite. Such a fine shade of lavender, and it suits you well.”
“Yes, that’s what Cam said,” Prue replied, her cheeks coloring very slightly.
Camden took the seat beside his wife and made no effort to hide the fact that he took her hand, lacing their fingers. “What did I say, love?” he asked, raising a daring brow. “I hope it was good.”
Izzy snickered to herself, then sat a bit forward to see Camden better. “You apparently said her dress suits her well.”
“Did I?” He looked at his wife for confirmation, apparently confused. “I don’t recall saying anything so politely. I’m usually far more effusive when giving you praises and compliments.”
“Cam…” Prue scolded in a mixture of resignation and delight.
Izzy bit her lip on a laugh, loving how this man loved her friend, and how that love had given her strength.
Cam leaned forward, his eyes warm with ardor on his wife, and whispered, “ ‘Oh, that I were but a thorn in the garden of such bloom, that mine eyes might be graced by the flowers of this hue. To rest my heart in such exquisite care and die among such petals, so bright and fair.’ ”
“Oh, that’s lovely, Cam,” Izzy sighed, squeezing her friend’s hand. “Is that what you said?”
“No,” he retorted, the moment gone and his levity returned. “I believe I only made weak imitation of sounds when I saw her, and it has taken me this long to properly express what the translation was.”
Prue’s cheeks were a fervent red now, and Izzy saw her fingers brushing anxiously against Camden’s. “Please…” she hissed, her eyes on their hands.
“Steady, love,” Camden told her, smiling with gentleness. “I’m all finished.” He winked at Izzy and sat back, his thumb moving smoothly over Prue’s hand.
Prue turned to Izzy with wide, exasperated eyes. “He’s always d-doing that.”
“Good,” Izzy told her without hesitation. “You deserve to have someone praise you incessantly and sincerely.”
Prue’s eyes suddenly took on a knowing look. “So do you.”
Izzy restrained a smile and shifted in her seat, unsure how to respond.
Thankfully, the first music of the evening began, and she forced herself to listen patiently as her sister played the harp. Catherine was the most accomplished of them musically, but rarely performed in public. Her mother must have prevailed upon her this evening, and Izzy was glad she had.
It would save her the trouble of being asked.
As the song went on, Izzy found herself looking for Sebastian, wondering where he had chosen to sit, and if he had found some semblance of sanity after their little moment.
Little? She might have snorted in derision. She’d nearly come apart at the seams, and there was nothing little about that.
She finally caught sight of him leaning against the east wall near the windows. It was an excellent thing that she had not sat near the front of the room, as she would have had to crane her neck to see him there. As it was, she only had to turn her neck a touch. It would still be obvious to anyone watching her, should she have watched him instead of the performance, but at least it could be accomplished with marginal difficulty.
And she just might wish to watch him instead.
He was currently focused on the performance, as she undoubtedly should have been, so she could observe him freely.
It was strange how she had once been able to consider him handsome without feeling any sort of fluttering, pangs, or nerves. A simple observation of attractive features, and it had been sufficient. Now she could feel a strange keening within her whenever she looked at him, and no other man in the world would ever be as appealing as he was.
His shoulders were broad without being expansive, he was tall without being towering, and his features were well-situated without being striking. He might never draw attention the way blatantly attractive people would, but his was the sort of appearance that one found pleasure in looking at, and the sort that would continue on through time without losing its appeal. A face that one could adore for a lifetime. And a heart even more so.
Lord, she was in love with him, and he desperately needed to know it.
“You know,” Prue murmured as the room applauded Catherine, “the t-two of you ought to make your c-courtship official. It makes things so much easier.”
Izzy jerked in her seat and twisted to stare wide-eyed at her friend, who was giving her a quietly bemused look, awaiting her response.
She started to deny everything, deny it all, but that look in Prue’s eye…
She knew, and Izzy couldn’t deny anything.
She swallowed harshly, then stammered, “We aren’t courting…”
Prue’s mouth curved in a wry smile. “Then p-perhaps you should be.”
Perhaps they should, but it wouldn’t change anything, other than the public awareness of what they were already feeling.
She enjoyed the privacy and secrecy, apart from not being able to interact the way they would like in public. That would be something to consider, and something they would undoubtedly enjoy.
Perhaps they should. Perhaps they would. Perhaps…
“How did you know?” Izzy whispered as Miranda Sterling moved to the front of the room to perform next.
Prue chuckled in a low tone. “Oh, Izzy, we all know.”
“You do?” Izzy gasped, mortified and startled.
A brief dip of her chin was all the answer Prue gave. As Miranda began her aria, Izzy immediately glanced around the room to find the rest of the group.
Grace glanced at her with a slight smile and winked. Charlotte looked directly at Izzy, utterly smug even as she leaned closer to Michael to listen better. Georgie and Tony were both trying not to stare at her but seemed close to laughter. Elinor was utterly mournful and did not bother hiding it. Edith’s smile was gentle, sad, and loving, and Izzy felt the sudden urge to hug her, though she couldn’t have said why.
“Lord,” Izzy hissed as she pressed a hand to her cheek. “I had no idea it was so obvious.”
Prue patted her knee soothingly. “Don’t fret. I d-doubt anyone else knows but us, and it’s only b-because we know you so well. We’re all supportive, e-even Elinor.”
That was surprising beyond anything else. “Seriously?”
Prue’s smile turned rather sly for her. “We’ve always said Mr. Morton is a p-perfect gentleman. Why shouldn’t he be s-snatched up?”
Camden coughed a quiet laugh beside his wife and curved his hand more completely around hers. “Indeed, Izzy,” he murmured very low. “Snatch away, by all means.”
Izzy looked away at once, but not before she heard the faintest thump, which she could only imagine was Prue properly scolding her outspoken husband.
Snatch away.
Oh, she would like to.
Her eyes found Sebastian, almost exactly as he had been before.
‘Almost’, because now he was looking at Izzy.
Izzy’s breath caught at the hungry expression he bore, the intensity with which he looked, and the raw vulnerability in his gaze. She recognized everything she saw there, as she felt the same blend of need and want within herself. She’d never felt such sensations
stirring as she had in recent weeks with him, and she was glad for it. She was glad to have been a spinster and to never have known the taste of love or the scent of desire before this.
It should be new and fresh and exciting for her. It should be only Sebastian that could make her feel this way, bring her to this, stoke this slow-building burn inside. It should be only one man to change a woman so, and only Sebastian had given Izzy the wings for her soul to take flight.
Miranda’s rich, soaring vocals suddenly seemed to be coming directly from Izzy’s own heart, spanning the room to Sebastian, crying out for his love and his embrace. It seemed to her that he heard it, that he felt it, as she could see how his chest expanded, how his expression softened, how he seemed barely able to remain where he was.
He should fly across the room to her, carried by the notes of Miranda’s exquisite voice and his own feelings for Izzy, forgoing any politeness or reserve. She should fly to him and declare herself, leave no doubt of her heart and emotions, ignoring traditional feminine delicacy or demureness.
Yet there they were, remaining in place, despite all desire to the contrary.
She couldn’t bear this heat, this pressure, this ache… She couldn’t breathe while she stared at him, while he looked at her so, while this music between them drowned out the music around them.
She blinked as the sound of applause met her ears, and she took her chance. She rose from her seat and moved towards the side door of the room, somehow managing not to bolt for it frantically. It just so happened that this was the way to the nursery, as well, so any that asked her would believe that she was only checking on the children.
She kept her eyes on Sebastian until it was impossible to do so, praying that he would know what she wished, see her command, and follow her when he could.
Down the corridor she moved, taking care not to distract any of the guests with sound or speed, and moving into a side corridor when she could.
Then, she waited.
Over the sound of her pounding heart, she heard a new song begin, something almost jaunty in its tone and energy, so different from what they had just heard it would surely attract more attention.
She could only hope it would.
Where was he? Where was he?
Then she heard it. Soft steps down the corridor, heading in her direction.
What if it was someone else? What if her mother was coming after her? What if…?
Sebastian suddenly appeared at the head of her corridor, his eyes dark, his breathing nearly as unsteady as though he’d run the length of her house.
“Iz…” he whispered.
She released a shuddering breath, then seized his hand and pulled him further down the corridor, not bothering to keep to a sedate pace now. They had to find a safe place. They had to be discreet. There had to be somewhere…
She wrenched open the door to the parlor they used for the Spinster meetings and tugged him in behind her.
He came willingly, laughing to himself as he shut the door behind her, pressing his back against it and staring at her without speaking.
The music was barely audible now, but that made no difference. This was one song she already knew well.
“Sebastian,” she breathed, his name catching roughly in her throat.
He heard the catch and straightened, his eyes fixing on her lips.
She would burn where she stood if he continued to look like that.
Now was the time.
Now.
“I love you,” she admitted in a rush of air, losing feeling in her legs as she did so.
He stilled completely, not even his breathing visible.
Her heart pounded in fear as she waited.
One… Two… Three…
Then he was to her, one hand wrapping around her while the other took firm hold of her cheek, his mouth crashing down on hers. His lips pulled at hers insistently, steadily wringing every ounce of pleasure from her. She gripped his coat in one hand while the other slid up to his neck, gripping him as she poured herself into this kiss, into him.
He tilted her head slightly, his fingers pressing against her skin gently, then stroking against her, the kiss growing more ardent and more possessive. She sighed against him, giving herself up to this fire and this need, this delightful onslaught of passion and madness. It was a heady thing indeed to be completely at the center of a man’s attentions and actions, to be his whole focus and to feel the same need from him.
He needed her. He needed her.
And oh, how she desperately needed him!
She heard and felt Sebastian’s growl as he pulled her even closer, as his kiss deepened, and she clung to him as if for her very life.
Was there any feeling in creation as perfect as this?
She broke off with a pant and a sigh, dropping her head back. Sebastian kissed her throat once, twice, then tucked himself there, burying his face against her skin.
Izzy wrapped her arm around his neck, stroking her fingers through his hair, willing her breathing to steady, to calm, but her lungs protested against regulation.
No matter. Overcome in his arms was far and away better than being steady anywhere else.
“I can’t feel my knees,” Izzy laughed breathlessly.
Sebastian smiled against her neck and kissed her again there. “Knees are overrated,” he teased.
She shivered and ran her fingers through his hair again, which drew a warm nuzzling from him. “I think there are several people who would disagree with you.”
“Not at this moment, they would not.”
Izzy grinned and let him pull back, staring dazedly at him. “You may be right about that.”
He leaned forward and kissed her fiercely, lingering enough to make her whimper. “I know I am,” he whispered.
She swallowed and tugged his neck, forcing his brow to hers. “Now what?” she asked, not daring to specify what she meant.
“Now,” he told her, his nose brushing hers, “we try to remember how to breathe.”
She smiled and brushed her lips over his lightly. “Is that so hard?”
His hand slid back into her hair, gripping a little. “It is when every breath makes me want to kiss you again.” He did so, twice, before moaning and forcing himself away, exhaling very slowly.
Izzy let him go, but slid her hold to his hand, and gripped it tightly. “We need an alibi before we return.”
Sebastian nodded, his fingers rubbing hers in a rather distracting way. “Any thoughts?”
“Any thoughts are impossible when you do that,” she muttered even as her cheeks flamed.
He grinned a boyish grin. “Is that supposed to make me stop? Because it isn’t.”
She rolled her eyes, sighing. “I thought I would say that I checked on the children. Perhaps told them a story. And given that excuse, I would have to actually do it.”
“That’s certainly believable,” he agreed with a nod. “Though I would refuse to return to the music room with the prospect of hearing one of your stories as the alternative.”
Of course he would.
She gave him a warm smile, then pulled on his hand and brought it to her lips.
He reciprocated by kissing her lips, and taking far too long a time doing so, considering they were in the drawing room rather than in the music room, where they would be expected to reappear shortly.
Not that she minded his kissing her extensively.
Quite the opposite.
“Right,” Sebastian said, breaking off once again. “To the nursery?”
She gave him a wry look. “Why would you be there, love? They are not your relations.”
He shrugged and tucked her hand into his arm, opening the door and leading her from the room. “I became lost in the house while trying to take some air. The music room is warm, and I was mistaken in my direction. I crossed your path during your escapade, and you graciously offered to see me back, but then the children clamored for a story. As you are so accommodating, you agreed, and I cou
ld not possibly venture throughout the house without my guide, so I patiently waited for you to finish.”
Izzy laughed and shook her head. “Should I be concerned by how easily you conjured the tale?”
“Encouraged, I would think,” he replied without concern. “Considering we are creating stories together.”
“So we are,” she murmured, her tone dipping with a wry note, considering their secrets.
He grinned at her then, and leaned down to give her a slow, teasing kiss. “Are we not?” he rasped. Then he straightened again and cleared his throat. “Now, behave yourself, and tell me which story I will be privy to this evening.”
Izzy exhaled shakily and shook her head. “I haven’t the foggiest. Give me some ideas.”
Chapter Nineteen
Speculation is a troublesome thing indeed. Nothing gets one into trouble so much as speculation.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 10 January 1818
She hadn’t been this nervous for a ball since she was seventeen years old, and even then, she hadn’t felt this level of apprehension. She’d been filled with excitement more than anything else, and she felt nothing pleasant at all in this moment.
Imagine, Isabella Lambert being nervous for a ball at her age.
It was laughable.
Worse than that, she’d already been here an hour and the nerves were certainly not abating. She’d greeted the Allandales warmly, as she always would, and they’d praised her new yellow gown, though it was nothing of the sort, before proceeding into the ballroom with her parents, who had now disappeared, as they usually did.
The other Spinsters were around somewhere, and they had all greeted each other and dispersed accordingly. Charlotte was dancing with Michael, which tended to happen three or four times a Season, usually when she needed a reprieve from the masses. Georgie and Tony were chatting with Lord Ingram, whose sudden return to London had been a cause for great joy among the young ladies of the ton.
None of that made her nervous. There was only one very particular thing that had her nerves in a tizzy, and they were far from calming.
Sebastian.
Spinster and Spice (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 3) Page 25