Tony’s dark eyes held a distinctly sardonic air about them. “Why didn’t you tell me that Kitty was the guest writer?”
Sebastian blinked at his friend, not entirely certain he had heard him right. “Excuse me?”
“You could have said,” Tony murmured with a warm laugh. “Particularly when she wrote the second one.”
Now there was no mistaking it. “Second?” Sebastian repeated, though he wasn’t sure how the word had made its way out of his suddenly very tight mouth.
Tony nodded and gestured in the direction of the madness Sebastian had indicated mere moments before. “All of London is obsessed, man. I was nearly accosted in the streets by people demanding confirmation of the lady’s identity. As though Georgie would divulge Spinster secrets to her husband.” He laughed at the ridiculous thought, clapping Sebastian on the shoulder.
Sebastian was not laughing. Could not laugh. Could not think.
Kitty had… Kitty had written…
“How did you know it was her, then?” he heard himself ask while his entire body proceeded to turn very cold indeed.
Tony waved off the question quickly. “Simple deduction and knowing more of the details revealed in the article than the general public would. It was plain as day. Quite a talented writer, your little sister. Marvelous way with words.”
“Marvelous,” Sebastian managed, his hands forming fists as they sat folded against him. “Will you excuse me, Sterling? I have something I need attend to, and it cannot wait.”
His friend nodded, catching his tone this time, and his expression grew concerned, but Sebastian turned away before any more questions could be asked.
He could barely see straight as he walked, his pace turning brisk in an instant. How could this be the case? How could Kitty have been the one writing for the Spinster Chronicles? How could they have allowed her to do so?
She wasn’t a spinster, and she wasn’t part of their Spinster contingent, no matter how they might have adopted her into their ranks. She was a quiet, timid girl in the midst of her very first Season in London, when it would be imperative for her to make good connections and a favorable impression upon any and all influential members of society. She ought not to be parading her thoughts and opinions out in such a public platform like the Chronicles, where all of London would see them, and speculation about her would run rampant.
What if others found the same connections that Tony had? What if Kitty’s identity became known as this writer, and she was treated with the same scorn that the Spinsters were?
He could not allow that. He would not allow that.
This ought to have had his permission before it was ever engaged in. If this was what the Spinsters had envisioned when Kitty had met them, he regretted ever bringing her into their midst.
He stormed his way up the stairs and banged on the door, grinding his teeth in his fury.
Collins opened the door and bowed politely. “Mr. Morton, sir.”
“I need to speak with Miss Lambert, man,” he barked, indignation rising further still. “Now.”
“Of course, sir,” Collins replied, though his eyes narrowed.
He would bowl the aged man over if he had to hear one word that was not expressly related to his seeing her.
He was let in and taken to the drawing room, the very one in which he had first heard her declare her love for him and had then proceeded to kiss her until they were both senseless.
He scoffed at the memory now. If he’d only known then what betrayal had already happened, and would happen, he might have saved himself a good deal of trouble.
Collins said something or other to Izzy and she had risen from her chair, fussing with her mussed hair and drab dress, smiling in encouragement.
He needed none.
Sebastian stepped into the room, bowed, and waited for Collins to leave them.
Then…
“We need to talk, Miss Lambert.”
Chapter Twenty
The unexpected is not always unpleasant, but when it is, it is most unpleasant indeed to have it be so unexpected.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 9 October 1817
Miss Lambert?
Izzy’s smile vanished as Sebastian’s cold and formal tone settled, his words echoing dangerously in her mind. He did not look like the man she had been so gleefully loving of late, and the manner in which he looked at her now informed her quite plainly that he did not see her that way, either.
“Sebastian, what’s wrong?” she said at once, stepping forward hesitantly. “What’s happened?”
He smiled then, a cold and cruel sneer of a smile that startled her. “What has happened? What has happened, Miss Lambert?”
She flinched as his voice increased in volume, the coldness all the more chilling for being louder.
Sebastian laughed once. “What has happened, Miss Lambert? Can you not guess? Did you not plan the thing?”
Izzy stared at him in wonder, her knees trembling with fear and anticipation. “What are you talking about, Sebastian?”
“Feigning ignorance.” He scoffed again, but with more derision. “So much for the good and honest Isabella Lambert.”
Something snapped inside Izzy, and she took another step forward, her stomach clenching. “I beg your pardon, you have no right to address me with so much contempt in my own home. State your complaint clearly, as I have no idea what could possibly drive you to be this irate with someone you claimed to be falling in love with. Or had you forgotten that you had done so?”
“I have forgotten nothing,” he barked, moving further into the room, but further away from her. “Believe me, I am well aware of the position I have put myself in, and what a mad enterprise that was.”
“I am sorry it has left you with such distaste,” Izzy spat, her voice catching in spite of her anger. “Now get on with your errand so you may be rid of me all the sooner.”
He turned to her, a bizarre sneer still twisting his once pleasant features. “My sister, Miss Lambert, has written for the Spinster Chronicles. Do you deny it?”
He knew.
Her breath caught in her chest, and her anger vanished in the face of bald fear. Of course, she had thought he might find out sooner or later, it was not so expertly disguised as to be completely incoherent, but she thought they would have more time.
Kitty had said she would approach Sebastian about it, that he would be proud of her for expressing herself, just as he had encouraged Izzy to do. It was supposed to make him pleased.
Not this.
Anything but this.
Izzy lifted her chin and clamped her hands together before her, though they shook even then. “No.”
“No?” he repeated in disbelief. “No what?”
“No, I do not deny it,” she replied, careful to keep her tone as impassive as it had been in her more biddable days. “She has.”
“Twice, if I am not mistaken.”
Izzy dipped her chin in a nod. “Yes.”
Sebastian nodded as well, though his could not have been more different than hers. “And why did my sister write for the Spinster Chronicles, Miss Lambert? That was not part of our agreement.”
“Because she asked to,” Izzy told him, emphasizing her words with great care.
“And you all just allowed her?” he exclaimed, flinging an arm out. “You, a group of mature, well-educated, well-bred women just let an innocent, naïve, timid girl of eighteen publish an article of her thoughts and opinions in a widely read gossip column?”
Izzy’s brow snapped down, and she stepped towards him. “Gossip column? You know full well it’s more than that.”
“Is it?” he asked, sneering once more. “Is it really, Miss Lambert?”
“Kitty was eager to defend us,” Izzy insisted as she felt her heart lurch painfully in a mixture of distress and anger. “When that article came out, I thought we should print some sort of response, and she begged us to let her do it. And I saw wisdom in her suggestion. A writer who is not one of us wou
ld hold more weight out there than we defending ourselves. So yes, I let her do it. We all let her write an anonymous defense of the Spinsters to the people of London.”
Sebastian grunted in some sort of satisfaction. “And yet she was found out. Because I was informed of the identity of this mysterious writer only moments ago on the streets. Imagine my surprise to discover that the handiwork was that of my sister, and that I knew nothing of it. Her brother and guardian, the one tasked with her care, the one who has made it his life’s work to provide for her and protect her, and I knew nothing.”
Izzy swallowed hard as her cheeks suddenly flamed. “She said she would tell you,” she managed, reaching for the chair behind her and gripping tightly. “She said…”
“Don’t you dare blame her for this!” Sebastian suddenly roared, pointing an accusing finger at her. “I refuse to hear any argument that this mess is her fault.”
“What mess?” Izzy asked him, shaking her head. “What mess? It is only an article in the Spinster Chronicles. I’ve written hundreds, and I’ve never…”
“What you choose to do with your unoccupied time is none of my concern, nor is it the issue at hand,” he interrupted. “But my sister is not to be any part of it. Had I known you would rope her into your spinster game, I would never have involved you in her care at all. It’s no wonder that Alice Sterling was so misguided into trusting such a blackguard as Delaney when she had the leader of such a group for a relation. How many other young ladies have you all been leading into recklessness, hmm?”
Izzy’s brows shot up, her pounding heart stopping in her chest. “Recklessness?” she repeated, barely able to say the word. “You think we’re to blame for Alice? That somehow we’re ruining the lives of young ladies like her and Kitty?”
“What else should we all think?” He gave her a questioning look that clearly did not expect an answer. “A group of spinsters using the attention of Society upon their unmarried state to give themselves a platform? A way to attract notice without scandal or scorn? No one would pay any attention to you all if you had husbands, so why not keep all prospects at a distance? You thrive upon your own independence, now you’ve had some, and followers of your column may feel themselves emboldened until the proper boundaries of Society have no meaning, and dignity has no place.”
This could not be happening. He could not be saying such horrid, hurtful things when he knew the opposite to be true.
Or he had known.
Hadn’t he?
“Sebastian…”
“Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Miss Lambert,” Sebastian went on, overriding her soft use of his name. “My sister is not a spinster. My sister will not be a spinster. With or without the damned capital S. I have worked too hard and too long striving for her future for her to be relegated to such a state. She will not associate with any of you outside of the most polite circumstances. I cannot believe that after meeting her, knowing her, bonding with her, that you, Miss Lambert, would allow her to speak out and stand out in a way that will only bring her criticism. Shame on you!”
Tears burned against Izzy’s eyes as she listened, as she heard the venom in his tone, her illusions of him shattering one by one. “Have you read it, Sebastian?” she forced herself to ask, even as her voice quivered. “Have you read what Kitty wrote in today’s article?”
“No,” he informed her without concern. “And I do not need to in order to know that this whole enterprise is entirely inappropriate for her. Nor to refuse my permission.”
Izzy nodded very slowly, fighting for control. “Might I humbly suggest that you read your sister’s words, Sebastian? Despite your newfound hatred of me, of us, and of all that we stand for, I suggest you read what she wrote, and then make a judgment on what we have done, if you must. Your opinion is meaningless without perspective.”
Sebastian’s expression hardened, and she watched a muscle twitch in his jaw. “I have said all that I needed to. Good day.”
He moved for the door, and Izzy could feel her heart cracking, the deep crevices extending all the way through. “What happened to expressing ourselves, Sebastian?”
He paused, looking back at her. “I think you’ve expressed yourself quite enough, Miss Lambert.”
“Enough?” she cried, her voice suddenly harsh, strident, and rapidly rising in volume. “Enough? I haven’t begun to express myself, Mr. Morton!”
Now he turned completely, expression impassive, but superior, daring her to go on.
He would wish he had not done so.
“I object to your harsh accusations, sir,” Izzy began, now seeing the man before her as a traitor, an enemy, someone rather akin to Hugh Sterling, only she felt no pity for him. “They rankle and chafe, and I despise the inference that I am somehow less of the woman you originally saw me as simply because you are being petulant and temperamental about being left out of a rather straightforward venture that many people are quite proud of. But we’ll leave the defense of myself for another time. Perhaps for another article, if your sister wishes to refute you for all the world.”
He snarled and made to answer, but Izzy wasn’t finished.
“If you were a little less conceited and a little more observant,” she went on, releasing the chair behind her and fisting her hands at her side, manicured nails digging into her palm, “you would see that your sister is not a child. She is a woman capable of making her own decisions, and occasionally does so. She was the one who wanted to take part in the Chronicles. She begged me to let her write the articles. She wanted to express herself in a manner she was comfortable with, which I thought was something you, of all people, would understand, given that you insisted that I do the same. Apparently, being a gentleman is more about stiffness and propriety than it is about honesty and respect. But I’m not sure what that makes you, Mr. Morton, considering I also have never judged a gentleman to be a hypocrite.”
Sebastian stiffened and lifted his chin, eyes flashing. “Hypocrite, madam?”
Izzy smiled without any degree of warmth. “How else should I describe it, sir? You want me to express myself, and yet when your sister does, it offends you. You think it a wonderful thing that I should aspire to be a writer, and yet your sister may not do so. You claim to admire the Spinsters and have no trouble associating with unmarried women of a certain age, and yet you object to your sister being tied to us in any way. You rush off to save Alice Sterling, a sweet girl whose brother you once encouraged me to rail against, and yet I am suddenly to blame for her trusting that same brother and his friend. Hypocrite, Mr. Morton. The very definition.”
The room was silent, both of their chests heaving, the air between them heavy.
A traitorous quiver began in Izzy’s jaw, and she tightened her face to resist it. She shook her head slowly, swallowing hard. “I don’t know how you can live with yourself when you don’t even know your own mind.”
Sebastian blinked unsteadily and exhaled once through his nose. He stared at Izzy for a hard moment, then nodded. “Very good. That was perfectly executed. Good day.”
He turned and opened the door, striding down the corridor quickly.
Izzy waited until she could no longer hear him, waited for the door to close, waited for the house to be silent once more.
Then her legs gave way, trembling with a ferocity she had never felt before, and she crumpled to the floor on a ragged sob. She covered her face with one hand, the other reaching for a chair to steady her. Cry after cry was ripped from her, tearing at her chest, throat, and frame with a vengeance. Tears streamed from her eyes and fell in rapid succession onto her hands and lap, blinding her almost completely.
It didn’t matter. None of it did.
The man she loved had destroyed her, and she had lashed out to do the same.
Apparently, she had hit the mark.
Brava for finally learning how to be something other than nice. What satisfaction in her victory.
She curled into herself as the sobs continued, her body a
ching from top to bottom and inside out, her heart somehow seeming absent after all of that. All of her hopes and dreams lay dashed at her feet, every single one. There was nothing left to cling to, no light to brighten her suddenly bleak and darkened world.
Only emptiness. Only space. A raw void of nothingness.
Nothing.
He’d been avoiding it for over a week.
Avoiding anything resembling it, tied to it, or about it.
He’d had to.
Now, however, he had no excuse.
Sebastian stared at it where it sat on the desk, fully within his reach, yet seeming at an insurmountable distance.
Reaching across the desk would change everything. Giving in would mean moving forward in one direction or another. Spanning that gulf would give him insight he wasn’t sure he wanted.
Reading that article would give him answers he’d specifically been avoiding.
But the misery was too much. The silence was too much.
The pride was too much.
He’d been trapped in a vortex of self-loathing and anger since he’d confronted Izzy, and he hadn’t found a way to escape its current. The anger wasn’t directed at her anymore, but it existed all the same. He’d snapped at his sister more times than he could count in the last week, though he’d never directly confronted her about the situation. He’d shut himself up in his study and avoided the room he and Izzy had once worked in like the plague.
He’d avoided anything to do with Izzy, spinsters, and art.
And now he was miserable.
Read your sister’s words…
He squeezed his eyes shut against the echo of Izzy’s voice in his mind, which had assailed him again and again since that day, never giving him a moment’s peace.
The truth of the matter was that he was afraid to read them. He was bloody terrified of doing anything of the sort. Because he knew very well that between the two of them that day, Izzy was by far more likely to have been in the right, and he would be in the wrong.
Spinster and Spice (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 3) Page 27