Spinster and Spice (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 3) Page 4

  Georgie heaved a sigh and turned to the younger girl, her expression firm. “Alice is the female version of Francis. Headstrong, witty, willful, but sweet. And not at all like Hugh.”

  “Thank the Lord,” Elinor groaned, dramatic still as she flung herself down on the couch nearby. “Then perhaps I will be friends with her.”

  “Yes, because that is exactly what she wants from her time in London, dear,” Grace commented as she and Charlotte appeared, Prue in tow, “to know you.”

  Charlotte snickered and nudged Elinor aside on the couch, then sat down beside her. “Introduce her to Amelia Perry. She’s a much better influence.”

  “I beg your pardon!” Elinor coughed, flopping her hands into her lap.

  “Amelia would love that!” Prue exclaimed as much as Prue ever exclaimed anything. “She has so f-few friends, despite being delightful, and I am not n-nearly as available as I once was.”

  Charlotte grunted softly. “I wonder why that is.”

  Grace sharply slapped a gloved hand across Charlotte’s wrist, her polite expression never changing. “Sounds like a lovely idea. Amelia would be able to guide her and be a companion of sorts in Society.”

  “So would I!” Elinor insisted, looking around wildly, though no one marked her.

  “Well, she will have Janet, you know,” Georgie pointed out as she poured herself some tea.

  “And me!” Elinor cried.

  Izzy nodded thoughtfully, warming to the game they were unofficially playing. “Edith, would you have any interest in assisting her? You are such a wonderful, gentle soul.”

  “So am I!” Elinor whined.

  “I am not that gentle,” Edith protested with a laugh. “But I would be happy to help Miss Sterling, if I can. Lord Sterling is a good man, and an amusing one, so I must assume his sister will be the same.”

  Elinor snorted loudly and shook her head. “Don’t assume anything with the Sterlings, Edith. Ever.”

  “Excuse me,” Georgie murmured, raising a finger in the air. “Sterling sitting here.”

  Elinor made a face at her. “You don’t count, Georgie. Not really.”

  Izzy put a hand over her eyes, and she was quite sure she wasn’t the only one doing so.

  “Oh, well, there’s a relief,” Georgie quipped. “Would you care to tell me if my child counts as a Sterling? I would rather know before it arrives this summer.”

  “Well, I suppose it would…” Elinor began before trailing off as her eyes went wide.

  Izzy smiled at her cousin, who now seemed to be glowing, not entirely surprised by the revelation.

  Georgie colored in delight and shrugged once. “I am with child. Confirmed by the physician just this morning.”

  The Spinsters squealed in an odd chorus and hugged Georgie in turn. Izzy was last and held her cousin even longer than the others.

  “You must have suspected,” Georgie said as she pulled back from Izzy, meeting her eyes. “After I was sick all over you the other night and ruined your gown.”

  “Which gown?” Charlotte demanded as she took her seat again. “Not the one I gave you, I hope!”

  Izzy shook her head and gave Charlotte a look. “No, Charlotte. It was my lavender muslin, and it’s three seasons old.”

  “Oh, that’s all right then.” Charlotte sat back with a biscuit in hand. “No harm done.”

  “Not everybody can afford new dresses on the regular, Charlotte,” Grace reminded her none too gently. “Don’t be a snob.”

  Izzy gave her cousin a look. “Why have children when you have us? It’s practically the same thing.”

  Georgie scoffed softly, then smirked as she moved to her seat once more. “Well, the thing is done. And now you all know. And Mr. Morton.”

  That made Elinor perk up somehow. “Mr. Morton? How does he know?”

  “Oh, I was dancing with him at the Stanworth party when I became ill,” Georgie explained, lounging a little in her seat. “He was quite heroic, the way he swept me off of the dance floor and out to the garden before I truly… you know…”

  “I tried to tell him it was heroic after you and Tony left,” Izzy added, rushing over what Georgie was hedging about. “He completely disagreed, said he was only a gentleman.” She shrugged at that, smiling at the memory.

  Charlotte looked slightly disgruntled and shook her head very slightly. “Only a gentleman?”

  Izzy shrugged a shoulder. “That’s what he said.”

  Charlotte gaped and turned to look at the others. “Does Mr. Morton know how rare a real gentleman is in today’s society? Not just the categorization, but the manner.”

  “Apparently not,” Grace lamented, leaning her head on Charlotte’s shoulder. “But I would love to find someone who was ‘only a gentleman’ who would take an interest in me.”

  Izzy felt her smile spread at that.

  Despite what had been claimed in the past, the Spinsters were not matchmakers. Not entirely, though they had made some rather fortunate introductions for a few people over the last few years. She could not vouch for the others, but Izzy had no interest in the courtships and romantic interests of Society, nor was she interested in pairing them up with anyone.

  Least of all Mr. Morton, gentleman though he was.

  “Mr. Morton has some excellent statistics,” Elinor mused, all speculation now. “Decent fortune, though not enough to be considered a catch.”

  “Poor man,” Georgie muttered drily. “How does he sleep at night?”

  Izzy choked on a laugh, and caught Prue clamping down on her lips and near to laughter herself.

  That was a startling change. Since her marriage a few months ago, Prue laughed more than anyone had heard in all the years before. Camden Vale was perfect for the shy, stammering Prudence Westfall, and no one could have predicted that.

  “He has a house in the country,” Elinor recited, somehow from memory, “though I can’t quite recall where…”

  “Bedford,” Georgie reminded her, watching Elinor in fascination. “You knew that at one point, I know you did.”

  Elinor groaned and covered her face. “I know I did! I’m losing my touch!” She dropped her hands just as quickly. “He has one sister, no other relatives. He’s still in possession of his commission, though not currently active, and there is absolutely nothing at all negative about his reputation.” She seemed stunned by that and looked around the room. “I don’t have a negative thing to say about him. Not one.”

  They were all silent for a moment, letting that statement sink in. It was so impossible, Elinor having nothing to say about a man she had done her research on. She was disparaging of all men these days, which was only solidifying her desire to be a spinster, though she was still too young to really be considered such.

  Nothing negative to say?

  It was nothing short of miraculous.

  Edith stared at Elinor in outright disbelief. “You don’t expect me to believe that Mr. Morton is the perfect man, do you?”

  That broke the tension adequately, and there were wry chuckles all around, particularly from Georgie.

  “He is rather handsome,” Grace mused thoughtfully, pulling at her bottom lip absently.

  Charlotte nodded firmly at that. “Indeed, he is. That dark hair and barely blue eyes? And such a strong, soldierly build…”

  “Barely blue?” Izzy asked with a laugh. “What does that even mean, Charlotte?”

  “Oh, you know, Izzy,” Charlotte tittered, waving at her.

  “Pretend I don’t,” Izzy insisted, making Georgie snicker.

  Charlotte sat up formally, her lips twisting in subtle irritation. “They aren’t gray, they aren’t green, they aren’t blue, but they tend to be more blue than any of the others. Barely blue.”

  Georgie slowly shook her head from side to side. “Now why didn’t I know that? I have missed so much being married.”

  She received a sardonic look from Charlotte for that. “I did try to warn you, Georgie, but you had to have Tony.”

/>   “I don’t remember hearing you complain about the marriage,” Georgie shot back. “The banns were read, and you didn’t object.”

  Charlotte sniffed loudly. “I did not wish to make a spectacle of myself.”

  Grace hooted a loud laugh very unlike her natural way. “Since when?”

  Charlotte ignored that. “Do you think Mr. Morton would want an heiress?” she asked Georgie.

  “No,” Georgie told her.

  “Who doesn’t want an heiress?” Charlotte asked in complete bewilderment.

  “Oh, let’s see… Tony, Cam…” Prue murmured almost under her breath.

  Charlotte turned to glare at her. “You are an heiress, Prudence, dear, so you cannot include Cam.”

  Prue shrugged a shoulder, smiling to herself. “That’s not why he loves me, or why he married me.”

  “Yes, but he still married an heiress,” Charlotte huffed impatiently. “The loving and reason parts are irrelevant.”

  “Are they?” Izzy asked, feigning surprise. She looked at Georgie with wide eyes. “Did you know that?”

  Georgie shook her head and sighed. “I shall have to tell my husband. Poor man, he thinks love is everything with us.”

  “Oh, stop that,” Charlotte scolded, throwing up her hands. “The original question was would Mr. Morton want an heiress?”

  “I didn’t even answer that,” Georgie told her. She smiled a tight smile and fluttered her eyelashes. “I was telling you no. You can’t have him, you would eat that sweet and good man alive, and no.”

  Izzy snorted and covered her mouth and nose with one hand at Charlotte’s suddenly aghast expression.

  “Why can I not have the sweet and good man?” Charlotte retorted. “Am I not sweet and good?”

  “Of course you are,” Izzy assured her quickly, shifting her expression to sincere at once. “Of course, Charlotte. You are truly good and sweet. If Georgie doesn’t find Mr. Morton suited for you, she must have her reasons. She knows him better than the rest of us, and you would not wish to be married to a man so perfect, would you? I would feel so terribly insecure being with such a man myself…”

  Charlotte frowned in thought, then sighed with a nod. “I suppose you are right, Izzy. I would look like a sinner beyond reckoning if I were married to a perfect man.” She looked at Elinor with resignation. “Find me a flawed one, dear.”

  “Noted,” Elinor replied. “Or you could remain a spinster. An heiress can do so without losing her station and the respect of the world, you know.”

  “Fortunate girl,” Edith murmured very softly. “Such freedom.”

  Charlotte looked at her, clearly confused. “You’re a widow, dear. Is there not freedom in that?”

  Edith smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “If I find any, I will certainly inform you.”

  Izzy couldn’t bear to see Edith look so unsettled, forcing a brighter countenance than what she felt, especially when she could not express it to the rest of them. She racked her mind for any other topic they could converse on, something to distract them all, and found herself singularly lacking there.

  All she had were secrets and things she could not talk about, especially with them.

  “Mr. Morton has asked me for a dance,” she blurted out, finding it the only possibly safe topic at the moment.

  Every Spinster in the room looked at her in surprise, and the combined force of their gaze was actually quite terrifying.

  Apparently, she had picked the wrong thing to say, and had put herself quite squarely in a more dangerous path.

  Lovely.

  “Did he now?” Grace inquired in the most suggestive tone her voice had ever used.

  Izzy frowned at her even as her face flushed. “Yes, but not because of anything remotely romantic or flirtatious or… whatever you might be thinking.”

  Grace shrugged daintily. “I am thinking that Mr. Morton might not care for an heiress, but a Spinster could do quite well.”

  “Stop!” Izzy insisted, trying to laugh but failing. “It’s only because we were both helping Georgie in her moment of illness, and he felt duty-bound afterwards to ask me for a dance. As my gown was quite soiled at the time, he suggested that another opportunity might be more suitable. I agreed, and there it is. That is all.”

  “I’d have danced with him,” Charlotte offered. “Soiled dress or not.”

  “Well, I did not,” Izzy said quickly. “He was being a gentleman, and as we all know, I am too nice, so I agreed to his offer.”

  Elinor looked rather curious for a moment. “What does your being too nice have to do with his offer? Seems perfectly sound by your account, and I don’t see a reason why you should have refused him. It was only a dance, not an offer of marriage.”

  Prue’s face flamed on Izzy’s behalf, and she cleared her throat. “In s-situations like that, o-one ought not t-to feel so d-duty bound. Circ-cumstances were ex… ex…” She frowned and looked at Izzy for help.

  “Extenuating,” Izzy finished with a nod. “Absolutely. My point exactly. There isn’t anything wrong with it, of course not. But clearly it was a pity offering, anyone can see that. I would wager that he has a rule about dancing with wallflowers or spinsters and I happened to fit into the category.”

  Georgie winced audibly and sipped her tea, then made a disgusted face from it. “Lord, I forgot about Aunt Faith’s tea.” She set it aside and shuddered, then looked at Izzy. “I don’t know that Morton would pity you your situation, but I do know that several men do dance with wallflowers and spinsters on purpose. I believe they feel safer doing so, as they are less likely to be suspected of a courtship there. Can we blame them for that?”

  “I suppose not,” Grace sighed, shifting a lock of her hair behind her ear. “But I do so hate to be pitied.”

  “It is lovely to dance, though, is it not?” Izzy asked, brightening a little. “I suppose if gentlemen did not fix it in their minds to dance with spinsters and wallflowers, I should never get any dances at all!”

  Her friends laughed at that, even Charlotte.

  “Not so,” Georgie told her, still laughing. “You are an accomplished dancer, and always danced more than I when I was unmarried.”

  “Because Izzy is nicer than you are or were,” Charlotte pointed out with a wry smile. “No one ever feared insult or banter from Isabella Lambert.”

  Georgie inclined her head at that. “Very true, very true. I am a peculiar person.”

  “Particular, perhaps,” Izzy corrected, relaxing somewhat in her position now that the tide of conversation had shifted. “Not peculiar. You are simply very firm in your likes and dislikes and never suffer fools.”

  “What, and you do suffer fools?” Elinor chortled. The girl’s smile turned mischievous. “I think you could also be very firm in your likes and dislikes, Izzy, just less vocal about it. So perhaps we should pair you with Mr. Morton.”

  “Oh, stop it now,” Izzy laughed as the others giggled. “Let us not tie poor Mr. Morton to anyone until we know him better. He is reserved and will not like it.”

  Edith raised a brow in amusement. “Who’s going to tell him that we are pairing him? Provided we ever do. He cannot dislike what he does not know.”

  Izzy shook her head in warning at her friend, smiling still. “No, no, I shall not allow it. Mr. Morton did Georgie a great service, and me. He will not become a gentleman for our amusement at the center of our schemes, even in private. No one deserves that, least of all him.”

  “A very noble defense, cousin,” Georgie mused from her seat, her eyes too keen on Izzy at the moment. “Mr. Morton has clearly found a friend in you. I wonder if he knows it.”

  Before Izzy could offer a proper rebuttal to such words, Georgie turned to the others and began a lively conversation on what they might name their unborn child and how to go about her confinement, though it was certainly some months away and the Spinsters would have no proper idea of such things.

  Izzy could not join in for a moment, could not even consider s
uch a thing.

  Mr. Morton had found a friend in her? How could that be, when they had only spent a few moments in each other’s company? Surely, she was only being nice and considerate, as she had done so many times before.

  She could certainly be his friend, if the opportunity arose, she supposed, and without anything suspicious at all in it. It was a thought. He was reserved, but witty, and she was generally approving of people, though not naïve about them.

  He was very handsome…

  Izzy shook her head quickly, dismissing the thought. Handsome men must have friends same as the plain ones, it made no difference at all.

  But it could make things more pleasant.

  Smiling at her secret joke, she rejoined the conversation, innocently suggesting that Isabella would be a fine name for a young Sterling girl.

  Chapter Four

  A party is a most excellent place to make new acquaintances and forge alliances. For is not Society a battlefield, and its events skirmishes thereupon? Let the battle commence, and may the best soldiers take the victory!

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 29 May 1815

  It was not customary for a party to be held following an informal announcement of a pregnancy, but it was customary for Tony and Georgie to not do things that were customary.

  And Sebastian could not help smiling at the perfectly uncustomary yet customary feeling of it all, despite the confusion it settled upon one’s mind.

  “Oh, now what do you have to smile about?” Sterling asked as he approached Sebastian. “Surely you don’t take so much joy in the prospect of my progeny.”

  Sebastian snorted softly and shook his head. “Not really, no, although I do offer my congratulations.”

  Sterling’s mouth spread in a wide grin, and his obvious delight was contagious. “Thank you. I’d name you godfather for the service you rendered Georgie, but I do believe it’s customary for a family member to be named for the first child.”

  “I wish everyone would stop treating me as though I have done something heroic,” Sebastian laughed, keeping his voice down. He glanced beyond to the few other guests, then back at Sterling. “All I did was twirl your wife enough that she became ill and saw her out of doors before anyone else could notice.”