Spinster and Spice (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 3) Page 3

  “It’s at the forefront of my mind at all times these days,” Sebastian assured her in the same low tone. “He knows it quite well, if only because I tell him so.”

  “For that, Morton,” Georgie announced, looking almost gleeful, “I insist you dance the next with me.”

  Sebastian smiled a wry grin as he held out his hand. “I am not the most graceful of dancers, Mrs. Sterling, but let it never be said that I stood in the way of a woman insisting I behave in a gentlemanly manner.”

  Georgie placed her hand in his and set her beverage aside. “Be gentlemanly, by all means, but not all gentleman. I want you to smile, or perhaps even go so far as to laugh. At least a little.”

  “If I must,” he sighed, smiling at her again.

  She nodded once, her fair hair dancing. “You must.”

  Sebastian led her to the dance floor, already smiling, and not entirely against his will.

  Whatever doubts he’d had about Tony marrying one of the so-called Spinsters, and he’d surely had them, they’d faded upon truly getting to know Georgie. While she would never have done for a match for him, she was more than perfect for his friend Tony Sterling.

  What’s more, he actually enjoyed dancing with her.

  He bowed with the other gentlemen, and then they joined hands with the couple to his left and proceeded in the circle, Georgie still seeming amused.

  “And what could possibly amuse you about my dancing abilities this early in the dance, Mrs. Sterling?” Sebastian inquired dubiously. “I can assure you, the worst is yet to come.”

  “Oh, stop, Morton,” Georgie laughed as she proceeded down the line with her hand lightly in his. “You are dancing beautifully, and you even seem to be enjoying yourself.”

  He gaped as best he could without being obvious about it. “Do I? How distressing, I shall rearrange my features accordingly.”

  “Don’t be so droll!”

  “Don’t pester me.”

  “I do not pester!”

  Sebastian gave his partner a look, which wasn’t easy since he was spinning her about. “No?”

  “No,” she told him, though her tone was not nearly as certain as it should have been. “I am not a pestering person.”

  “Hmm,” he mused, spinning her again. “And I am not a lying person.”

  Georgie’s brow furrowed, and her eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. “And I… need some air…”

  Sebastian jerked back, suddenly eyeing Georgie up and down with concern. “Pardon?”

  “Air,” Georgie gulped, suddenly a pale shade that was rapidly turning green. “Air.”

  “Right, right,” Sebastian muttered, taking her out of the dance and moving as swiftly as he could for the doors to the gardens. “Steady, Georgie, it’s all right…”

  She swallowed harshly and seemed to have trouble blinking. “Don’t want to make a scene.”

  Sebastian laughed once as he took more of her weight in his grasp. “Not at all, we’re merely promenading, yes?”

  “Something like that,” she mumbled, as her body lurched slightly.

  “Georgie? Georgie!” Sterling suddenly appeared by Sebastian’s side, gingerly patting his wife’s arm.

  Sebastian nudged his head towards the door. “Sterling, get the door, and then you can take her.”

  The doors were flung open, and then Sterling was on Georgie’s other side, and the pair of them hauled her over to a poorly lit corner of the garden.

  “Georgie? Oh, Georgie, what is it?”

  Sebastian turned to see Georgie’s copper-haired cousin dashing towards them, completely ignoring him, and Tony, and the awkwardness of the situation.

  “Miss Lambert…” Sebastian tried, shaking his head and wincing.

  But she had already reached Georgie and brushed her cousin’s hair away from her damp brow just as Georgie retched, and continued to do so again and again.

  Sebastian turned slightly away, somewhat nauseated by the sight, particularly now that he had no protective instincts to contend with. Georgie’s husband could take those on, and while he was certainly not going to abandon his friends in this unusual hour of need, he didn’t necessarily need to witness it for himself.

  “Well, that’s what you get for eating fish and then spinning a great deal,” Miss Lambert scolded, somehow still sounding playful despite the situation. “I tried to warn you.”

  “Izzy,” Sterling broke in, smiling ruefully, “is this really the time?”

  Georgie waved a weak hand at her husband. “It’s always time. I’m all right now. It’s passed, I think.” She sat back, exhaling roughly and wiping a hand across her mouth. “I am so sorry. I haven’t done that in… years, I think.”

  Sterling rubbed his wife’s back, his brow furrowing. “What do you have to be sorry about, love? You are the one who is ill.”

  Georgie patted Sterling’s chest. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” She turned to smile sadly up at Sebastian. “I am so sorry, Mr. Morton.”

  Sebastian folded his arms and returned her smile. “I’m siding with your husband on this, Georgie. There is nothing to be sorry for.”

  “I should say not,” Miss Lambert added, dabbing her sleeve along Georgie’s brow and cheeks. “Just a bit of sick. No harm done.”

  Georgie looked at her cousin, then snorted softly. “Tell that to your dress, dear. And give it my apologies.”

  Miss Lambert looked down at herself, and then waved a dismissive hand. “It never flattered me anyway. Can you stand, Georgie?”

  She nodded, and Sebastian moved over to assist, though Miss Lambert and Sterling had her by each arm as she rose. She didn’t seem quite steady, but she no longer looked pale or green, which he supposed was enough of an improvement.

  “Tony, perhaps you should take her home,” Miss Lambert suggested. “There’s a path that leads around to the front of the house, so the rest of the guests needn’t see Georgie in this state. Mr. Morton and I can let the house staff know your carriage is needed, and no one else will be the wiser.”

  Sebastian nodded, admiring Miss Lambert’s plan for what it was. Adapting to an unforeseen situation without a tremor of hesitation and taking charge quite efficiently. That was something he could certainly admire and go along with.

  Sterling nodded and put an arm around Georgie, helping her towards the path indicated. “Thank you both,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Not at all, Sterling,” Sebastian assured him. “We will take care of things here.”

  He watched as the couple moved out of sight, then turned to the woman standing on the terrace with him.

  Miss Lambert looked somehow worse than her cousin had, her copper hair not quite as put together as it had been before, her dress rumpled and soiled, in some places quite obviously so.

  She looked down at herself as well, then laughed once. “It really is ruined, isn’t it? Oh well.” She smiled as if it made no difference.

  “Is it really as simple as that?” he inquired, tilting his head. “ ‘Oh well’, and that’s the end of it?”

  Miss Lambert nodded and shrugged. “It really isn’t that flattering at all. Or wasn’t, at least. And it certainly isn’t now.”

  “You look lovely, Miss Lambert,” he dutifully replied.

  She gave him a baffled look, then smiled, shaking her head. “No, that wasn’t what I was looking for. I’m not one of those women that traps a man into giving a compliment at the risk of appearing ungentlemanly. Take it back.”

  Sebastian laughed at that and shook his head in return. “I cannot take it back, you will just have to accept it for what it’s worth.”

  “Which isn’t much, considering I do not look lovely at this moment,” she offered with a snort. “But it was a valiant effort.”

  “Thank you, I do try.” He bowed politely, letting himself smile ever so slightly.

  Miss Lambert twisted her lip in thought, then snapped open her fan and held it in front of her. “There, does that hide the worst of it?” She looked back
at Sebastian, head cocked in question.

  “It does, yes.” He glanced down at her hem and smiled again. “Though it does not, I’m afraid, help there.”

  She followed his gaze, then snickered softly. “No, not at all.” She looked up and the brilliant blue-green of her eyes suddenly seemed to dance with the stars. “You’ll have to walk in front of me when we proceed through.”

  Sebastian bowed again, keeping his eyes on hers. “Of course, Miss Lambert.”

  “Izzy,” she told him, wrinkling up her nose. “I’ve never cared much for formality.”

  “Alas, I do care for formality,” he replied with an apologetic wince. “Bit of a stickler for it.”

  Miss Lambert hummed softly in thought. “Can I be an exception?”

  He grinned briefly. “And this is where I see the resemblance to your cousin, Miss Lambert.”

  She laughed now and looked in the direction Georgie and Sterling had gone. “Yes, that would be it. We’d better be off, or their carriage will not be prepared. If we keep to the outskirts of the room and proceed leisurely, no one will suspect.”

  Sebastian nodded and offered his arm to her, making sure to keep her behind him enough to hide the state of her dress. “What do you think that was, anyway?”

  Miss Lambert hummed again, this time with a laugh, and it seemed to reverberate somewhere in his chest. “If I were to wager, Mr. Morton, I would say that in a matter of weeks, Captain and Mrs. Sterling will be announcing an addition to their family.”

  He looked at her in surprise as they reentered the ballroom, then away in thought. A child. That had not crossed his mind in the slightest, but he supposed…

  He turned back to Miss Lambert, suddenly feeling more curious about her. “Do you wager, Miss Lambert?”

  She smiled a little. “Only when I know I can win. I am not the bold and reckless sort, Mr. Morton.”

  “Ah, yes,” he mused. “I’d once heard you described as shy.”

  Her brow wrinkled slightly. “Mmm… No, not shy, really. I have no fears talking to anyone, certainly not the way Mrs. Vale does, but neither am I particularly boisterous. If there were a word between reserved and sociable, I would be it.”

  Sebastian nodded in thought, intrigued by the idea of the elusive word to describe her. He couldn’t say he had spent a great deal of time with her, nor necessarily with any of the Spinsters as a whole, but their paths certainly had crossed. Until this moment, he was not sure that he could have said anything much about Miss Lambert at all.

  But she was not shy, that he now knew. And she concocted plans, was unfazed by illness or emergency, and was entirely unruffled by a distressing situation.

  He would have to pay more attention to Miss Isabella Lambert in the future.

  “It was rather heroic, you know,” she suddenly said, breaking into his thoughts. “The way you swooped Georgie away from the dance floor and out into the night in her moment of need.”

  He scoffed softly. “Not at all, only timely and gentlemanly. Nothing out of the ordinary, or at all heroic, as it were.”

  “Are gentlemanly deeds not heroic to the lady in need?” she returned, raising a brow. “I’d venture to say they are, sir.”

  “Venture elsewhere, if you please. I am no hero.”

  “You shouldn’t deny it, any more than you would deny being a gentleman. I’ll not venture elsewhere, and nor would Georgie, and you know it.”

  He sighed, half in irritation, half amusement. “Very well. As a gentleman, I now ask you to dance, Miss Lambert, though given the state of your dress at the moment, I imagine you must wish to be off soon to remedy it. And as we are avoiding scenes by our leisurely stroll, I imagine you would not wish to negate it with a dance in a gown so soiled.”

  “You imagine correctly, Mr. Morton,” she murmured back, a teasing note to her voice. “But I grant you a dance of your request at any event in the future. You need only ask.” She patted his arm as they exited the ballroom and hurried over to the footman to request the Sterlings’ coach, and her own.

  “Good evening then, Miss Lambert,” he said rather unnecessarily, bowing yet again. “I look forward to our forthcoming dance.”

  She smiled at him in surprise and inclined her head. “So do I, Mr. Morton. Gentleman and hero of the weak.”

  “Not a hero, Miss Lambert.”

  “But a gentleman still.”

  He grinned without reserve at that. “Always that, Miss Lambert. Always.” He nodded again and turned to the ballroom, then thought better of it and headed for the card room.

  He rather felt like wagering at the moment.

  Chapter Three

  A lady with a good character must always be appreciated. A spinster with a good character must always be pitied. It is not entirely clear why one’s marital status changes things, but one cannot deny that it does.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 22 February 1816

  “Oh, that’s lovely. Your mother’s taste in tea remains exactly as it was before.”

  “You don’t have to drink it, Edith, really.”

  Edith swallowed harshly and shuddered, setting the cup aside. “Thank you, I won’t.”

  Izzy chuckled and went back to her writing, chewing her lip thoughtfully as she debated her word choice.

  “Working on the next edition, are you?” Edith queried gently, her brogue ringing out. “A bit early, we’ve only just released one.”

  “I know,” Izzy replied, smiling over at her. “But I wanted to get started early. I’m just jotting down some thoughts and phrases now while it’s fresh. I’ve been so busy lately, it’s becoming more difficult to find the time.”

  Edith quirked her brows, her lips curving as she picked up the embroidery she’d brought with her. “Busy? Lass, what are you busy with? I was not aware that the Spinster Chronicles was becoming such a rigorous commitment.”

  Izzy bit down on her lip hard, hesitating. Edith was one of the more trustworthy Spinsters, it was true, but she didn’t dare reveal the truth yet. Surely, she would know something soon, and then she would have news to share.

  “Oh, it’s not that,” Izzy finally assured her. “I have just been doing a lot for my mother, and now my sister…”

  “Ah, yes, I heard about that. A children’s story, was it?” Edith asked, tightening her wrap around her.

  Izzy smiled thinly, pressing her tongue against her teeth. “Yes. You wouldn’t know this, but I tell stories to my nieces, nephews, and young cousins every time we get together. It’s become a bit of a routine, and my niece Rose has apparently demanded her favorite story before she goes to bed. I’ve sent over a copy as best I can recall it, but it seems it’s been missing something every time.”

  Edith nodded slowly, taking a biscuit from the tray and nibbling on it. “Stories from memory are much harder to record than people think.”

  “Yes,” Izzy sighed heavily, rubbing at her brow. “It’s different, too, when the children aren’t here to prompt me. I can’t remember everything about their favorite stories on my own, not with… everything else.”

  “I certainly understand that.” Edith chuckled under her breath and shifted in her chair. “I’m Scottish, remember? More than half of our stories are told over generations, and they’re told differently each time, and no one really knows what the truth of it actually was.”

  Izzy exhaled silently and turned back to her writing, hoping that Edith would take up that particular tangent and leave the topic of Izzy’s writing alone.

  The truth of the matter was that half of the sentences and phrases she had written down were from the children’s stories, and not potential articles. And while she was busy with all of the stories and writing them down, it was true she was also constantly being flooded with ideas for the Spinster Chronicles and new angles to take with their articles.

  And then there was the anxiety of waiting to hear back from Cousin Frank about pursuing publication. And wondering if her secret was going to come out in front of all her family, o
r friends, or both. And her fears for the future, her insecurities about writing at all, and her fear that her niceness was going to ruin this and everything else for her.

  Oh, and she was a spinster. Still.

  “When you want to tell me what is really going on in that lovely head of yours, I would be delighted to hear it.”

  Izzy slowly dragged her gaze back to Edith, whose eyes shone with a knowing light. Despite only being a year older than Izzy, Edith seemed to possess wisdom beyond her years, and appeared almost matronly just now.

  She supposed being a widow would have that effect on a woman.

  Sensing Edith was still waiting for a response, Izzy swallowed once. “I will. When I’m ready.”

  Edith nodded and smiled gently, which only enhanced her staggering beauty, and winked before going back to her needlework.

  And that, it seemed, was that.

  No questioning looks, no prodding inquiries, no hounding until more information was drawn from her in surrender. Edith truly was not going to ask any more on the subject.

  What a refreshing notion.

  “You are telling me that Alice Sterling is coming to London? Before the Season?”

  Izzy rolled her eyes and saw Edith do the same as they heard Elinor now just down the corridor.

  “Yes, Elinor, she is,” Georgie said in a carefully patient tone. “Francis and Janet brought her back for Christmas, and she is staying. So, when they come up from the country, Alice will come as well.”

  They finally appeared in the parlor, and Georgie, for all her tolerance of Elinor, looked done for. She widened her eyes meaningfully at Izzy, but Izzy had no help to give. She needed to avoid the intuition of curious women to escape unscathed from this whole ordeal.

  She had to avoid Elinor like the plague. Without actually avoiding her, of course. No need to be obvious.

  “Tell me she is better than her wretched brother,” Elinor begged with all the dramatics she had ever employed. “I could not bear having two horrid Sterlings in our midst.”