Spinster and Spice (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 3) Read online

  Sterling shrugged easily, which was a strange sight in one so tall. “Is not the saving of a man’s wife cause for heroism?”

  Sebastian didn’t bother hiding a dubious look. “From being ill?”

  “Saving from embarrassment is still saving.” Sterling smiled at the look. “If it makes you feel better, I will stop calling you a hero.”

  “Thank you,” Sebastian sighed, truly feeling relieved. He’d never been one for attention or honorifics, and while only a handful of people knew about it, he had already grown tired of the gratitude and looks.

  “So, if you were not smiling over the news,” Sterling inquired in a suspiciously mild tone, “then what were you smiling about? Have you formed an attachment and not told me?”

  Sebastian chortled in surprise and gave his friend a frank look. “You do realize that you are speaking with me and not Henshaw, yes?”

  Sterling only smiled in response and waited.

  Sebastian debated waiting as well, just to see how his friend would take it, but as the answer was not nearly as entertaining as Sterling was expecting, there wasn’t much of a point to it. He turned to lean against the wall. “Kitty’s coming.”

  His friend’s brows rose, and his smile turned more natural. “To London?”

  Sebastian nodded slowly, pleased with the information himself. “After Christmas, we decided it was time for her to have her coming out. She’s very shy, as I’ve said, so we thought having her come early might be better. Get her accustomed to London and Society before she is expected to perform in it.”

  “Wise notion,” Sterling praised softly, matching Sebastian’s pose against a nearby bookshelf. “Particularly if she has no experience in it.”

  “That was my thought, yes.” Sebastian hesitated again, then sighed once. “I’ll admit, Sterling, I am out of my depth with what to do for my sister in this.”

  Sterling frowned and turned to look at him more fully. “How so?”

  Sebastian gave him a wry glare. “You don’t see how well I manage to navigate society and its traps?”

  His friend coughed a surprised laugh and began to nod. “Ah…”

  “Exactly.” Sebastian glanced out of the window again, not seeing anything. “I am reserved and aloof, and can find my way, but I am hardly a fixture or an expert in this. Nor do I need or aspire to be. Yet my reserve and disinclination will not do Kitty any favors in her debut. Lord knows, she’d never do it on her own.”

  He shook his head, thinking back to the earlier days with his sister, and the struggle he’d had in drawing her out at any given time. She was never particularly shy with him, but the moment someone else entered a room, she would barely say a word.

  “Morton,” Sterling broke in with some hesitation, “when you describe her as shy, how dire is it? You know Prue, obviously. Is Kitty’s shyness to that extreme?”

  “No, no,” Sebastian answered quickly, shaking his head again. “Nothing so drastic.” Then he paused, considering the idea more carefully. “But in some ways, I suppose it is. She does not stammer or blush, she doesn’t even grow flustered. She does have the same startled, terrified look that Prue is so familiar with. But Kitty will not say a word, will keep her eyes lowered, and will try to make herself as small as possible. A single word from her in a public setting to anyone but myself is a feat.”

  The description made Sterling wince, and Sebastian smiled tightly at the response. Such a reaction in only hearing about it. Sebastian lived with it. He was right; Society would not treat Kitty with care and gentleness. They would devour her like the innocent fawn she was, and there would be no saving her after that.

  He would not mind having charge of Kitty for the rest of his life, and he would take care to marry a woman who would also not mind having her as part of their household, but he did not believe for one moment that Kitty would want that. She would be comfortable, it was true, but there was nothing fulfilling in being a spinster living on the generosity of her family. She deserved a life of her own, the independence of a married woman running a house, and to have a family.

  “I am not the person to help her here, Sterling,” he admitted aloud with real honesty. “And I don’t know who is.”

  “Well,” Sterling began as he came to stand beside him, facing the other guests, “first of all, I don’t think there is a man alive that could be the one to help her. Unless you want me to pull Prue’s husband Cam, who really does have a remarkable way with shy creatures.”

  “No,” Sebastian grunted.

  Sterling smirked at that. “He’s a married man. Happily, I might add.”

  “No.”

  “I thought not.” Sterling cleared his throat and took a drink from the glass he held. “I’d suggest Prue, but I think putting two shy girls together would be complicated. I think Miss Morton will need someone who is gentle, patient, and understanding. Someone who knows Society well, who is content on the outskirts and comfortable.”

  Sebastian stared at the confident visage of his friend in confusion. Then he smiled slowly. “You have someone in mind.”

  “I do,” came the response with a nod. He gestured to the far side of the room. “I believe you need my dear cousin, Izzy.”

  Sebastian followed the indication with his eyes and stared, rather shamelessly, at Miss Lambert, sitting beside a woman Sebastian could not identify. She smiled at whatever it was she was hearing, and while it was not the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, there was something different about it. Something warm. It set him at ease from this distance; he could not imagine the impact it would have on the person in her direct presence.

  Her hair was much more neatly fixed than when he had seen her last, the copper curls still a touch unruly, but in a charming, relaxed sort of way. She kept her attention fixed on her companion, seemingly completely invested in the conversation at hand. Focus and kindness were intriguing qualities to have in the same moment, but the evidence was before him in the person of Isabella Lambert.

  “You think so?” he murmured, though he really did not need further explanation or comment from Sterling. His suggestion had already taken root, and Sebastian’s mind whirled with the possibilities.

  “Of course. Can you think of anyone better?”

  No, he could not, but neither could he admit such a thing. His interaction with Miss Lambert was mostly in passing, though he had heard a great deal about her goodness and kindness from several others.

  He watched as her mother suddenly turned and gestured for her, saw Miss Lambert excuse herself from her conversation to go to her, and then watched as her countenance tightened. Then she smiled, nodded, and took her mother’s cup. She moved to the punchbowl and refilled it, then brought it back to her, only to have her mother clearly suggest she offer to do so for the others.

  And, impossibly enough, she did so.

  Sterling huffed an irritated sigh. “I wish she wouldn’t do that.”

  Sebastian nodded once, his brow furrowing. It wasn’t as though a wrong had been done, not at all, but there had been no need for Miss Lambert to have been pulled from her conversation to be turned into a servant for a party she was not the hostess of. The punch had been set out in such a way that it was intended for the guests to help themselves, diminishing the need for servants to attend them. Informal gatherings such as these often had such a setup, and unless Mrs. Lambert had developed an injury in the last twenty minutes, there was no reason for her to have been incapable of fetching her own drink.

  Or to order her daughter to see to the drinks of the guests.

  “Is it always like that?” Sebastian asked of his friend.

  “Hmm?” Sterling asked, clearly having lost track of the thing. “Oh, Izzy?”

  Sebastian dipped his chin in a nod. “Does her mother always do that?”

  “Everybody does that,” Sterling corrected.

  “Does what, exactly?” Sebastian pressed without shame, turning to face him. “What do they do?”

  Sterling’s eyebrow
s rose, and his eyes widened. “Take advantage. Haven’t you noticed?”

  “I don’t tend to make a study of a particular young lady of Society for my own amusement,” he replied rather bluntly. “I cannot say that I have noticed.”

  His friend hummed almost in amusement. “Well, I invite you to take notice now, though I doubt it will be entertaining. Izzy is the most accommodating girl I have ever met in my entire life. She’s entirely agreeable, obedient, and good. The trouble is that it is very, very easy to approach the girl who always says yes with anything, even if it is a ridiculous request. You can say anything to her without reproach. She will always accommodate.”

  “And her mother uses that for her own interests?” It was a horrible thing to ask, but the evidence was before him, and it baffled him.

  Sterling’s mouth curved ever so slightly. “Don’t turn Faith Lambert into a villain based on one exposure. She’s not to be confused with Mrs. Westfall. She is a very good woman and loves her family. I am telling you that everybody does this with Izzy. Even me, if I am not careful. She never refuses, and she never resents.”

  He couldn’t know that. Nobody could know that Isabella Lambert did not resent the abuse of her niceness and indulgent nature. A lifetime of habits was a difficult thing to overcome, or even break once. He would know, though the particulars were not the same in the least.

  And now he was to ask her to indulge his whim of mentoring his shy sister? He could not, in good conscience, take advantage as everyone else did simply because he was sure she would do it.

  “She would say yes,” Sterling reminded him, correctly guessing his expression.

  “That’s not what worries me,” Sebastian murmured, returning to watch Miss Lambert as she finished her rounds of the room before returning to her original companion. “I cannot ask a woman to help me simply because the answer will be the one I wish. And I absolutely cannot ask a woman I do not know well to do something this important.”

  He felt his shoulder shoved forward hard and stumbled a bit. “Then you’d better go get to know her better, or you’ll be stuck with Georgie as a mentor for Kitty, and I highly doubt that is what you had in mind.”

  A shudder rippled down Sebastian’s spine, and spurred him to action.

  Sterling was right, and there was no way he was going to leave Kitty’s fate in the hands of Georgie Sterling. He liked her, and he liked her a great deal, but her direct manner was not going to suit his sister’s timidity.

  Isabella Lambert was the only one he could picture in this task, although he wasn’t sure why, and he couldn’t exactly complain about that.

  He approached the sofa she was sitting on just as her companion gracefully rose and departed.

  Perfect.

  “Miss Lambert,” he began, fixing a polite smile on his face. “May I take the now-vacated seat beside you?”

  Her lips parted in a warm smile, and she nodded, gesturing to it. “Please, Mr. Morton.”

  “Thank you.” He sat and scrambled for something to say that didn’t start in a question and end in a request. “You look well.”

  Well, that wasn’t exactly brilliant, but it was polite.

  Miss Lambert’s cheeks seemed brighter as the edges of her smile touched them. “Should I not?”

  He managed a small laugh at her quip. “No, of course you should. Only, the last time I saw you was under some rather… um… interesting circumstances.”

  She giggled and glanced over at Georgie quickly, then back to him, leaning forward slightly. “Indeed, and I seem none the worse for it, thank heavens.” She sat back, grinning now. “Truly, it was a very slight inconvenience to me. Nothing at all troubling.”

  “And your gown?” he inquired, not at all interested in the garment, but enjoying the ease with which she could converse with him.

  She winced while somehow still managing to smile. “It could not be salvaged, I’m afraid.”

  He tsked slightly, shaking his head. “More’s the pity. Such a fine gown.”

  Miss Lambert chuckled warmly, folding her hands in her lap. “I hate to contradict a gentleman, Mr. Morton, but it was not at all a fine gown. It is no loss to me to have it gone, I can assure you.”

  Sebastian felt a bemused smile cross his lips. “Are you always so cavalier with your gowns, Miss Lambert?”

  She quirked a brow. “Not at all, Mr. Morton. I’m never cavalier about anything, least of all my gowns. It was old and unflattering on its good days.” She leaned forward again, and he couldn’t help but to match the pose. “And I really do wish you would call me Izzy, if you can bear to.”

  “And I do believe you know my thoughts on the matter, Miss Lambert.” He shrugged in apology. “I cannot.”

  “Oh, in public, I understand completely,” she assured him, still seeming playful. “But here?” She looked around quickly, then whispered, “I don’t think anyone will mind. It’s Georgie’s house, after all.”

  That was true, and he had to chuckle at it, even reluctantly. “That’s true, I suppose. And I can’t refuse Georgie anything, God help me.”

  Izzy laughed at that, tossing her head back, her throat dancing with the laughter.

  Sebastian watched, transfixed beyond anything he could express. There were simply no words.

  “No one can refuse Georgie,” Izzy assured him when she had recovered herself, laughter still on her lips and cheeks. “Well, not the people who know her and like her. She just has a way.” She looked over at her cousin, smiling softly.

  Sebastian dragged his gaze away from her to glance at Georgie as well. She was surrounded by people at the moment, laughing and smiling, truly seeming delighted to have so many about her.

  “Has she always been that way, Izzy?” he asked, turning back to her. “She’s your cousin, and you grew up with her…”

  Izzy smirked a little. “Georgie is the one person I seem capable of saying no to.”

  That stunned him, and he didn’t bother hiding it. “Really?”

  She nodded proudly, then wrinkled up her nose. “It doesn’t happen often, but…” She trailed off with a wry chuckle. “I can do it. When I want to.”

  “Why do I have the feeling that you don’t want to very often?” he mused, finding himself relaxing more in her presence by the moment.

  “I haven’t the faintest idea,” Izzy replied, playfully formal. Then she sipped her drink and looked at Georgie again. “Georgie tends to have the best ideas, so it was easy to follow and to agree. More often than not, I wanted to do whatever she suggested, and if I wasn’t sure, I would say yes just to see where she would lead me.”

  Her tone had taken on a distant, reminiscing tone, and it made him smile, made him want to ask questions.

  Made him want to know more.

  “Did Georgie ever lead you astray?” he heard himself ask.

  Izzy glanced back at him out of the corner of her eye. “Not once.” Then her smile spread a touch wider. “Or should I say, not yet?”

  “So, you anticipate trouble in the future?” he teased.

  “It’s Georgie,” she retorted with a frank look, “One must always be prepared. But that is the nature of siblings, I suppose. Although Georgie and I are cousins, we were raised more as sisters. I am closer with her than any of my siblings, and my family tends to be fairly close.”

  Sebastian’s mouth curved on one side. “Seems to be a wonderful relationship that the two of you share.”

  Izzy nodded, shrugging her trim shoulders in obvious delight. “It is. And it helped that we were both spinsters, without a capital S, so our mothers despaired of us in unison. It was much easier to stand together than individually. Strength in numbers, even if the number is two.”

  “Capital S?” Sebastian repeated. “From the Chronicles?”

  “Yes.” She straightened up in her place, her eyes suddenly alight. “A spinster with a lowercase S is any unmarried woman. A Spinster, with the capital S, is part of our very select group of women who write for the Chronicles.
Used to be we were all unmarried, but now we have two that are. I’m told it will add a delightful perspective to the thing.” She widened her eyes dramatically, and it was clear she wasn’t convinced of that.

  Sebastian snickered and then recovered himself as a new guest entered, rising to bow with the other gentlemen.

  “Oh, please,” Miranda Sterling trilled in delight. “It’s only me. As you were.” She strode across the room grandly, her rich green skirts trailing behind her as though she were a queen.

  Tony Sterling’s stepmother was an intriguing woman, and a fine one, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that she was also the very definition of eccentric.

  “Does she always do that?” Sebastian asked Izzy as he sat back down.

  “Always,” Izzy told him, nodding in greeting when Miranda waved her fingers at her. “She scares half of me half the time and amuses all of me all the time.”

  He smiled at the description. “Seems apt.”

  “Izzy, dear,” Mrs. Lambert said, turning to them, “will you fetch Mrs. Sterling a drink?”

  Izzy’s hands suddenly fluttered a little in her lap and she nodded, rising. “Of course, Mama.”

  Sebastian frowned without thinking.

  “No, don’t be silly,” Miranda scolded at once, waving Izzy back into her seat with a stern look. “I am perfectly capable of fetching my own beverage in my stepson’s home. Or my darling stepson can get one for me.” She pointedly looked at Sterling as he came over to her.

  The room chuckled together as Sterling grinned without shame. “Of course, Miranda. Anything for my favorite stepmother.”

  She winked at him and went back to her conversation, but not before meeting Izzy’s eyes again in some unspoken message.

  Izzy clasped her hands tightly together in her lap and turned more towards Sebastian.

  Or perhaps only further away from Miranda and her mother.

  “Miranda hates when I am needlessly biddable,” Izzy whispered, her cheeks flushing slightly. “She makes a point to prevent it.”