Spinster and Spice (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 3)

Home > Romance > Spinster and Spice (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 3) > Page 28
Spinster and Spice (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 3) Page 28

by Rebecca Connolly


  He knew that already. But how wrong exactly had he been?

  That was where he was cowardly.

  Still, he could not distance himself from Kitty anymore, no matter what happened between he and Izzy, or he and anybody else. Kitty was his only family, and he needed to mend whatever fences he had destroyed with her. He’d already done his worst with Izzy, and he’d likely suffer an eternity in hellfire for that. He could not do the same with his sister.

  He would not.

  Mustering the very same courage he’d employed in battle, he exhaled and stretched out for the paper, pulling it to him as his heart leapt into his throat, beating out a bitter tasting cadence that burned him.

  His eyes scanned the sheet quickly, the familiar sections passing in a sort of blur.

  There. The main article.

  Reflections of a First Season Miss.

  That would eliminate so many from the mystery at once. They could discover Kitty as the writer fairly easily, in fact, given her association with the Spinsters.

  Former association.

  She hadn’t been in their company for a week. He’d made sure of it. She could see Amelia Perry or any of the other girls she’d met, but none of the Spinsters.

  He swallowed and read on, forcing his panic down.

  There is nothing like London during the Season, or so I had been informed numerous times before I had ventured into it for myself. I was expected to anticipate every ball, every party, every opportunity to perform or be on display in any way, shape, or form. I was perfectly prepared and had been for some time. I possessed the necessary accomplishments to be suitable, had been trained up by governesses and tutors, dancing instructors had praised my lightness of foot, and my French had been declared exquisite.

  But I felt unprepared and unqualified to be entering what has been called the Marriage Mart. I was nothing more than a child, in my own eyes, and a shy one at that. Such timidity may be praised once as demure, but more than that is unacceptable.

  I was not simply demure; I was terrified.

  How to properly express such things? I was to be representing my family and our reputation by my every action, and yet I could not open my mouth to say how I take my tea. I was destined to be a failure to the memory of my parents, and to the loving elder brother who had sacrificed so much to ensure my life lacked for nothing. He whom I loved better than any creature on earth would be ashamed of me. How could I bear it?

  Sebastian gasped at the sudden and searing pain spreading across his chest, the paper crinkling in his hands as he found himself unable to stop the shaking there. He laid the paper on the table, smoothed it out, and cleared his throat as he forced his eyes to trace the words once more.

  That same loving brother provided a way. He brought into my life a woman who was gentle, kind, and good. One who had her share of Seasons and was no longer intimidated by them. She took my hand and led me through the motions, just as my dance instructors had done. Her steps were sure, her tread as light as mine, and, step by step, she showed me the way.

  In her care, I found comfort, and I found strength. She taught me the value of my voice, and the vision I wished for myself. Because of her, I made the acquaintance of other girls, some in the same situation as myself. I was not alone, for the first time, and I found my way forward.

  It has been weeks now, and the Season is well under way. I am still a timid creature, and I find I am content to be so. But I no longer fear these events, I look forward to them. I long to glitter as the candles do, to shine as a jewel, and to find myself liked for the qualities and attributes that I possess. I wish to take part, and to see the world with fresh, new eyes.

  Not all of us are born with great confidence, despite our training, upbringing, and heritage, but all of us strive to find our place in the world, and in Society.

  I may not have found mine as yet, but with the care of those who love me best, I have found the path I wish to take in order to find out. The Season is more than a Marriage Mart.

  It is a training ground. For here, we become who we must for the future that lies ahead, for good or for ill.

  Here we find ourselves.

  Step by exalted step.

  Sebastian sat back against his chair roughly, a suspicious burning behind his eyes.

  How could he have been so very blind?

  His sister had nothing to be ashamed of in this article, despite what he had feared. This was a glorious testimonial to her growth, which he had witnessed firsthand. She had so perfectly, so poignantly, expressed her growth and maturity, and he felt nothing of the despair he had feared.

  He felt a swelling of pride and love for his sister, moved by her tender expressions of love and her fears, and he wanted to hold her in his arms while he told her so.

  Gratitude for Izzy washed over him, and a wave of shame rapidly followed. She had given Kitty so much, so very much, and he had been too obsessed with his own need for reserve and what he had considered to be propriety to see it. Kitty had been right; she had been a child when they had brought her to London, yet now she had blossomed into a young woman that could walk with confidence into any room in London.

  She had become everything he had ever wanted his younger sister to be.

  And he had raged about it.

  Worse than that, he’d accused Izzy of sins that did not belong at anyone’s door purely out of that rage.

  Sebastian buried his face into his hands, then gripped at his hair as a growl of agony erupted from him.

  There was no atoning for such an offense.

  He was not worthy of either of them, his sister or the woman he loved.

  Loved.

  His chest seized and his breath caught audibly as the very thing he’d been denying for a week flashed into bright illumination within him.

  He loved Izzy still. He loved her more. He loved her beyond words and beyond sense and beyond his own shame. He loved her for fighting against him, for defending his sister, for ignoring her habitual submissiveness to lash out for what she believed in. He loved the risks she took, the criticism she endured, the smile she always wore no matter the circumstances.

  He loved everything she was and everything that she made him want.

  And he had lost her. More than that, he had shoved her away.

  Lord, he was a worthless creature.

  Was it even remotely possible that her goodness could extend to him after all of that? Even if she could never love him again, could she forgive him?

  He would take the smallest portion of whatever she would extend to him.

  If she could.

  But first, he had amends to make closer to home.

  He pushed himself out of his chair and exited his study, knowing his emotions would be too close to the surface, but willing to sacrifice a little dignity for forgiveness.

  Kitty was easy enough to find, sitting in her personal sitting room, wrapped in a shawl, a book in her lap. He’d seen her in this exact position time and again over the years, but for the first time, he saw a woman and not a child. She did not need his edicts and dictates. She was grown now, and it was time he treated her as such.

  “Mouse,” he murmured, leaning in the doorway.

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide. After a moment, she offered a hesitant smile. “There you are, brother. I was afraid I’d lost you.”

  There was no use pretending he did not understand her meaning. “So was I,” he admitted.

  Kitty sat up and patted the seat beside her. “Come. Sit.”

  He nodded and moved to the sofa, surprised when Kitty took his hand the moment he was settled. He looked at their fingers as they wrapped around each other and found himself unable to speak.

  Kitty surveyed him through much wiser eyes than he’d given her credit for. “You read the article.”

  Again, he nodded, swallowing hard.

  His sister smiled very gently. “And?”

  He squeezed her hand as tightly as he dared. “It’s wonderful, Kitty,”
he told her, finding his voice at last. “Beautifully written, and a magnificent insight into your journey. I am profoundly proud of you.”

  “Really?” she half-squealed, her grip clenching in her excitement.

  Sebastian chuckled and nodded at her. “Yes, Mouse, I am. And I am so very sorry that I have made you think anything else in the last week. I’ve been battling my own demons and neglected everything else. Especially you.”

  “Oh, Sebastian…”

  Her soft whimper nearly undid him, and he shook his head quickly. “I thought that your writing in the Chronicles would be a source of criticism for you, and I could not bear to have you attacked. The attempt on Alice Sterling affected me far more than I imagined, and I took out my fears in this. I had forgotten what a voice you have, and I doubted you and your friends. I doubted everything I thought I knew. You deserved better than that.”

  Kitty offered him an apologetic smile. “I am sorry I did not ask your permission before writing it.”

  “No,” he told her at once, covering their hands with his free one. “No, there is nothing to apologize for. You do not need my permission for that. Other things, perhaps, given that I am your guardian…”

  Kitty snickered at that but beamed at him in a manner he did not warrant.

  Sebastian sighed, shaking his head at her. “You are a woman now, Mouse. And I am not your jailer. I do hope that in the future you will inform me of articles you have coming so that I might be the first to read it. I hope you will tell me of the friends you are making and the gentlemen you are meeting.”

  “Sebastian,” she groaned, blushing adorably.

  He chuckled and kissed her hand. “Not because I need to know, Mouse, but because I want to. No matter how old we get, or how fine you become, I will always be your elder brother, and I will always want to know the details of your life.”

  Kitty sniffled softly, wrapping her arms tightly around him. “I love you, Sebastian.”

  His own emotions brimming, he held her tightly. “I love you, too, Mouse.”

  She stunned him by whacking him on the back of the head lightly.

  “Ouch!” he yelped, pulling back. “What was that for?”

  She gave him a dubious look. “That was for whatever you said to Izzy. Make it right.”

  He sighed and pulled her close once more. Make it right. Yes, he absolutely had to make it right.

  But how?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Upon reflection, you may find pain. But where there is pain, there is also healing.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 3 June 1816

  “Izzy, dear, I want a word.”

  Izzy turned to her mother, standing in the doorway and surveying her with open concern. It struck her that she had been left alone for over a week, despite not being herself in all that time, and having that privacy she craved to mourn her loss in peace. It had been a blessed relief, but she knew it could not last forever.

  At least now she was enough removed to address the situation without dissolving into tears.

  She hadn’t cried in two days.

  “Of course, Mama,” Izzy said, gesturing to any of the open chairs in the room. The Spinsters hadn’t arrived yet, and she knew she would have to recount everything for them, given that she hadn’t been to a gathering since her fight with Sebastian.

  She swallowed painfully as her mother came and took the chair beside her. Even thinking his name caused her grief.

  Perhaps she might cry today after all.

  Her mother smiled gently at her. “I know that I can be a bit fastidious, Izzy, and that I take advantage of your good nature more than I should, as your mother.”

  “Oh, Mama,” Izzy protested at once, shaking her head quickly, stunned by the admission.

  “No, let me,” her mother insisted firmly. She tilted her head at Izzy, her smile turning emotional. “I know it must pain you to be a spinster, especially when I remind you of it. You must know that I never mean to cause you more pain.”

  “I know,” Izzy whispered, trying for a smile and failing miserably.

  Her mother nodded, folding her hands in her lap. “But above all, my girl, I hope you know that I don’t find fault with you or in you for being unmarried. I truly mean it when I say that you are perfectly, exactly as I would wish. It is not only something I say to make myself feel better, or you. I believe it. You are a strong woman, Izzy, and I don’t know where you learned how to be so. I don’t believe I could bear with the life you have with as much grace or integrity, and I sometimes wonder what I can possibly offer you as your mother.”

  Tears sprang into Izzy’s eyes, and one began to make its way down her cheek. “Mama…”

  Her mother reached out and smoothed the tear away, stroking her cheek gently. “I don’t know what has happened between you and Mr. Morton, Izzy, but I pray it will soon be mended. I could see in your eyes how you adored him, and he looked at you much the same. I didn’t say anything because I wanted to let you have your privacy, but I always wanted you to find someone to look at you that way. And even if what has passed is the end of it, I believe you to be exactly as you should be, and I pray that never changes.”

  Izzy leaned forward and hugged her mother tightly, her heart swelling at the comfort of being in her arms, rather as she had as a child. “Thank you, Mama.”

  Her mother nodded against her, then kissed her cheek before rising, surreptitiously wiping at her own eyes. “Now, chin up, love. Your friends will be here in a moment, and that Charlotte Wright will pounce upon the first sign of tears she sees, and never let you have a moment’s rest until you confess all.”

  Izzy laughed and sat back in her chair. “How do you know that?”

  The comment earned her a wry look, and her mother adjusted the lace cap on her head with a sniff. “Her mother was exactly the same way. It drove us all quite mad.” She widened her eyes meaningfully before turning from the room.

  A rough sigh escaped Izzy, and she sniffed back the last evidence of tears. Her mother was quite right, Charlotte wouldn’t settle a bit if she knew Izzy had been crying.

  Then again, none of them would.

  Interfering busybodies, the lot of them.

  And how she had missed them.

  Only Georgie had come to see her, and she knew all now, but she’d had no comfort to give. Still, her presence had been comforting enough.

  Now she needed the rest of her friends, and she prayed they would understand.

  “Oh, lass, there’s a sad look.”

  So much for hiding her emotion.

  Izzy turned a smile to Edith as she came and sat next to her. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

  Edith nodded in understanding, her dark hair bouncing with the motion. “I’ll forget all about it, don’t you worry.” She rubbed a soothing hand over Izzy’s back. “What did he do, lass?”

  There was a question. “We both did it,” she admitted, shaking her head and looking up at the ceiling. “There is enough blame to share.”

  Edith made a soft scoffing sound. “What could you have done to cause a strain between you?”

  Strain? They were broken, possibly irreparably so. Her emotions were strained from overuse, but she and Sebastian had been destroyed.

  “I may have lashed out at Sebastian,” she admitted with a wince.

  “Good heavens,” Edith murmured, her hand pausing on Izzy’s back before continuing. “Well, I’m sure it was a very quiet lashing. You’re not vindictive.”

  Now the wince was accompanied by a loud hiss. “Well…”

  Edith’s hand vanished. “Izzy?”

  Izzy turned to look at her friend, smiling in embarrassment. “I think you’d find that episode proof enough that I have been spending far too much time with Charlotte.”

  Edith’s emerald eyes went wide as saucers. “Oh, Lord…” she breathed.

  There was nothing more to be said than that, and Izzy only nodded slowly, letting the truth sink in.

  “I’m s
ure he deserved it,” Edith eventually said, though her tone was not at all convinced.

  Izzy wasn’t sure of that. Not even a little bit.

  She’d been over the argument time and time again, and while there was certainly reason for her to be upset, he had also given some valid points. The only thing she could say was that they had both behaved badly, and she would never accuse him of being purely at fault for what had happened.

  Whatever good nature she’d cultivated over her life, it had vanished in that moment, and she feared he would only remember her in the throes of temper.

  She needed to be more than that to him, even if she only lived in his memory forevermore.

  Lord, how she missed him. It seemed incomprehensible that she could miss a man who had made her feel so very dreadful, and at whom she could have been so angry, but the truth of the matter was that she ached to be with him. She was desperate to apologize, and willing to forgive, if he could do so.

  Surely, they could find a way to resolve it. Surely, there could be hope for them.

  Surely, he could love her again.

  “Oh, Izzy, you look so much better than I thought you would,” Grace commented as she entered the parlor, smiling with warmth and tenderness that only made her look more perfect than she already was.

  A loud snort echoed in the corridor. “How did you expect her to look, Grace?” Charlotte called. “The face of wallowing and despair?”

  “I believe the phrase is in despair, dear,” Georgie added as she and Charlotte came into view. “And Izzy never wallows.” She winked at her cousin and moved to the divan, sinking onto it with a sigh.

  Charlotte rolled her eyes and took an open seat with an ungraceful flop. “Everybody wallows.” She smiled at Izzy, waving her fingers in her direction. “Wallow away, dear. You deserve it.”

  “Do I?” Izzy laughed, folding her hands together in her lap. “Marvelous, I’m so out of practice.”

  “In what?” Elinor asked as she burst into the room. “Sorry I’m late, I was visiting Alice Sterling with Kitty Morton and Amelia Perry.” She rolled her eyes quite dramatically.

 

‹ Prev