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

  Sebastian felt a burst of pride in his chest at the thought of Miranda taking an interest in Izzy in such a way and made a mental note to be equally as conscious of both Miranda and Izzy in return.

  “I approve of it,” he whispered back to Izzy, smiling.

  Izzy swallowed with some difficulty, then managed to smile again. “It wouldn’t have been so very great a trouble to fetch a drink for Miranda. I don’t mind.”

  “That isn’t the point,” he insisted gently. “Your mother is not hostess, and this is not your home. You don’t have to play servant here.”

  His words had little, if any, impact on her. “But it is Georgie’s house, and…”

  “And Miranda was quite right,” Sebastian interrupted. “Tony can get a drink for her, and he should do so, if anyone does. Not you. It doesn’t have to be you.”

  Izzy met his eyes, and the sweet blue and green combination struck him again, more pronounced with the blue dress she wore. She finally smiled in earnest and laughed at herself. “You must think me a very silly creature, Mr. Morton.”

  “I think nothing of the sort, Miss Lambert,” he told her, tamping down the desire to take her hand and squeeze it in a gesture of comfort or friendship.

  Friendship.

  Yes, he’d quite like to pursue a friendship with Miss Isabella Lambert, if only to save her from herself.

  Among other things.

  “Well, I won’t embarrass you by asking what you do think of me,” Izzy told him with another light laugh. “Lord knows what you would say, especially if you are being a gentleman, as you so proudly informed me you were the other night.”

  Sebastian reared back in surprise but smiled all the same. “You object to my being a gentleman?”

  She shook her head hastily. “No, not at all. I only object to their flattery.”

  “Compliments are flattery?”

  “Compliments, no. But when a compliment is false or exaggerated? Flattery.” She wrinkled up her nose in distaste. “A lady knows the difference, Mr. Morton. Believe me, we are well aware whether something is true or not.”

  Sebastian chewed the inside of his lip briefly, amused, fascinated, and perplexed by the woman before him. “And do you inform the gentleman of the error of his ways?”

  A faint look of panic came over her. “Oh goodness, no. I wouldn’t want them to feel bad for not knowing how to compliment a woman sincerely. I would smile and nod and be as gracious as possible.”

  For some reason, that only amused him more, and he had to smile at her. “And then?” he prodded, sensing there was more.

  The panicked look vanished, and she became playful again. “And then I tell my friend Charlotte and hear what she has to say on the subject. She has such a way with words and no discretion whatsoever. I’d stay on her good side, if I were you.”

  He nodded sagely. “Any recommendations on how to do that?”

  Izzy surprised him by reaching out and putting a hand on his arm. “Not to worry. I’ll protect you from her. She adores me, Lord knows why.”

  Sebastian glanced down at the hand on his arm, the warmth and weight from it seeming perfect and spreading throughout his frame.

  And he had his answer.

  “I wonder, Izzy, if I might ask a very great favor of you.”

  Chapter Five

  If you find yourself afraid of the gnashing teeth of the Society monsters, your best safety measure is to find a mentor to guide you through the dangers of it all. Also, this writer suggests sampling the punch for additional stamina.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 14 March 1818

  “Ohhh, I should never have agreed to this!”

  “You absolutely should have agreed to it. You are perfect for this.”

  “My thoughts exactly, and it’s not as though you’ve been asked to be Anne Boleyn at a masquerade.”

  “Charlotte, don’t be ridiculous.”

  “That costume would be ridiculous. How in the world are you supposed to dance with a severed head?”

  “That is the least of my concerns.” Izzy exhaled slowly, her breath faltering as she did so. She wasn’t normally a nervous sort of person, but the idea of mentoring a young woman for her debut was intimidating. Why, she couldn’t have said, but it terrified her.

  “Oh, Izzy, how can you be worried about this?” Grace asked, linking her arm with Izzy’s. “You have all the sweetness of Prue without her timidity. It would be wonderful for you to help Miss Morton find her way.”

  Izzy grunted softly and rubbed at her arms. “Yes, because I do that so well. Why shouldn’t I help someone else be just as lost as I am?”

  Charlotte sidled up to her other side and gave her a stern look. “There is only room for one cynic in the Spinsters, Izzy, and I wear that crown.”

  “I know,” Izzy mumbled, rubbing her arm again. “It just seemed appropriate.”

  “It doesn’t suit you, dear,” Grace insisted, patting her hand. “Just be yourself. That’s why Mr. Morton asked you to do this, isn’t it?”

  Izzy inhaled deeply, exhaled, and felt the tension leave her shoulders a little. “Yes. Yes, it is.” She bit her lip, then looked at her friends. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

  Now Charlotte slapped her hand sharply. “Stop that. Every person on this planet likes you. Kitty Morton will fall at your feet the moment she gets to know you. Or else I’ll toss her in the same circle as the Sterling girl and let the stronger of the two win.”

  Izzy frowned at her for that. “Come now, Charlotte. Alice Sterling isn’t even here yet. There is no cause to treat her as though she is Hugh in the female form.”

  “I don’t care who she is like,” Charlotte retorted as she moved away from them and sat gracefully on the divan. “I am already inclined to prefer Kitty Morton to her. And I am not Elinor, I do not have a blood feud against Hugh Sterling, of all people.”

  Grace gave Charlotte a wary look. “Dramatic, Charlotte. Perhaps you should go home and leave the sweet girl to us. Or visit Edith and see how her house is coming along.”

  Charlotte returned the look without concern. “I am perfectly capable of behaving in the public eye. I am simply less strict with my behavior in the presence of my friends.”

  “Pretend we’re in public now,” Grace pleaded, squeezing Izzy’s hand. “You’re making Izzy feel worse.”

  Charlotte met Izzy’s eyes, her own wide with distress. “Am I making it worse, Izzy?”

  Izzy smiled a very small, shy smile. “Perhaps a little…”

  She immediately sprang up and wrapped her arms around Izzy in a tight hug. “Oh, sweet dear, I’m so sorry. I only meant to set you at ease by being so perfectly myself.”

  “Because that is such a comfort,” Grace murmured, laughing softly.

  Izzy hugged Charlotte back and then looked out of the window, gasping, “Oh, goodness, they’re here. They’re here!”

  She broke free from her friends and put a hand on her suddenly fluttering stomach. Her blood seemed to be rushing through her entire body much too quickly, and she could feel her pulse thudding in her ears.

  Is this what Prue felt like when she had one of her fits?

  How did she ever survive them?

  “Izzy?”

  She whirled around, wide-eyed. “What?” she snapped.

  Grace and Charlotte had matching smiles of bemusement, and any time those two matched in expression, one ought to be concerned.

  “What?” Izzy asked again, warily this time.

  The girls looked at each other quickly, then back to Izzy. “Does this rare case of nerves have anything to do with the fact that Mr. Morton will be involved?”

  “What?” Izzy barked. “No! No, of course not! Mr. Morton is a gentleman, and very kind. I never feel nervous or anxious around him, not even once, and…”

  “How many times have you been in his presence?” Charlotte interrupted, though her words were clearly intended to be under her breath.

  Izzy silenced her with a look. “It has
nothing at all to do with Mr. Morton. I just… I’m not much of an example for Miss Morton. I’m a spinster!”

  Charlotte’s eyes widened, and she gaped. “I do really wish someone had told us that before we became friends with you, Isabella. I would never want to spend my time and energies with a spinster.” Then her expression changed swiftly to rather sardonic and superior.

  There was no course but to smile at that.

  Izzy was being ridiculous, and she knew it. And what she had said was true, it had nothing at all to do with Mr. Morton. He was actually the part about this whole affair she was the most comfortable with. She knew that she could converse with him, and that he would not judge her harshly.

  “You do splendidly with Prue, Izzy,” Grace reminded her with an easy smile. “Kitty Morton, by her brother’s own account, is not so bad as that.”

  “Yes,” Izzy murmured, rubbing her hands together, “but Prue already likes me.”

  “I don’t have that problem with people,” Charlotte mused aloud, making the others laugh in surprise.

  Izzy was still laughing when Collins appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Morton and Miss Morton, Miss Lambert.” He bowed and gave her a quizzical look before vanishing.

  And then the Mortons were before them.

  Mr. Morton smiled, but it was an uncomfortable, formal sort of smile. His dark hair was impeccable and formal, rather like his person at the moment.

  Miss Morton could not manage a smile, but her lips quivered tremulously. She was a remarkably pretty girl, with hair darker than her brother’s, and eyes bluer than his as well. She was pale, but in a healthy way, and she was small in stature without being considered petite.

  The poor miss was utterly terrified.

  At that moment, all of Izzy’s fears vanished, and she felt a wave of tenderness for the young girl.

  “Miss Lambert, Miss Morledge, Miss Wright,” Mr. Morton intoned with the same formality his manner possessed, “my sister, Miss Catherine Morton.”

  They all curtsied politely, then Izzy stepped forward, smiled, and held out her hands to Miss Morton. “Miss Morton, I am so pleased to meet you. Have you had a long journey?”

  Miss Morton shook her head quickly and exhaled slowly through her nose. “I arrived yesterday,” she whispered in an almost whimper. “I am quite well, thank you.”

  Izzy tilted her head a little and squeezed Miss Morton’s hands. “Miss Morton, may I call you Kitty? Your brother has told me that is your preferred name, and as we are to be friends, I should like to set you at ease.”

  Miss Morton nodded and tried for a smile, though it failed to fully form. “Yes.”

  “Then I insist on being called Izzy to you, or Isabella if you are cross with me,” Izzy told her, gently keeping her smile in place. “And I don’t want you to feel as though you have to say anything if you do not wish to.” She leaned forward and whispered, “And you really don’t have to say anything to Charlotte at all. She can be a bit domineering.”

  “I can hear you, Isabella,” Charlotte chided, though the tone was a good deal kinder than the one Charlotte usually employed.

  “Then perhaps take the hint, Charlotte,” Grace suggested in a would-be innocent tone.

  Izzy and Charlotte laughed, and Mr. Morton smiled, which Izzy counted as a success.

  Kitty’s blue eyes only grew wider.

  Clearly, this was going to be more difficult than she’d anticipated.

  “Kitty,” Izzy said, tugging her into the room as gently as she could, “come and sit with us in here. And if you like, I can have the others go so you are more comfortable.”

  The girl came without any resistance and sank slowly onto the sofa, her eyes darting over to the others only briefly. “No, they can stay. It’s fine.”

  Charlotte smiled very sweetly and chuckled a little. “Almost convincing, pet. Why don’t Grace and I go see about a tea tray and let you get more comfortable with Izzy, and then we can come back?”

  A very faint flash of relief crossed Kitty’s face, and Izzy could have hugged Charlotte for the suggestion. Grace smiled and left with Charlotte, both curtseying briefly to Mr. Morton, who stood in the doorway.

  “And what about your brother, Kitty?” Izzy asked, covering one of the girl’s hands with her own. “Would you like him to stay with us or to go?”

  Kitty’s eyes moved to Mr. Morton with such swiftness the answer was clear.

  Mr. Morton smiled at his sister fondly. “I’ll sit in the corner and read, Mouse. Miss Lambert, if you could direct me to the library…”

  Izzy gestured towards a pile of books on the desk. “Please, help yourself to one of those, and next time I will show you to the library. I think Kitty would be more comfortable if you remain visible this first time.”

  Mr. Morton looked at his sister for a long moment, then nodded. “I think perhaps you are right. I will avail myself of the most convenient books for the time being. And if my sister turns chatterbox, I’ll find the library on my own.”

  Kitty smiled in earnest at that, and Izzy blinked in the face of it.

  The shy girl was a stunning beauty when she smiled, and any man with any sort of vision would be drawn to her side in a heartbeat, which she would find horribly overwhelming and utterly terrifying.

  Izzy pushed the thoughts away and focused on the young girl beside her. “Now, Kitty, I don’t know anything about you except that you are timid and that you are eighteen. Tell me about yourself.”

  Kitty’s smile vanished, and she stared at Izzy without speaking.

  Seconds passed, and then Izzy tried to give her an understanding look. “Kitty, I know it can be difficult to open up to anyone you don’t know, and this must feel a bit like a forced friendship. Would it be easier for me to talk about myself first? You could ask me anything you like or say anything that comes to mind that way.”

  “Yes, please,” Kitty answered in a rush of relief. She smiled genuinely for the first time at Izzy. “I never know what to say, and what if I say something wrong?”

  Izzy blinked at the number of words expressed and hummed a very soft laugh. “I will tell you one thing right now; you will never say the wrong thing with me. Trust me, I’m friends with Charlotte.” She rolled her eyes dramatically and grinned when Kitty giggled. “And while we won’t talk about Society today, I will tell you that there is not very much you can say when talking about yourself that will ostracize you from its circle.”

  Kitty nodded obediently, seeming more like a girl in the schoolroom than a young woman paying a call. That would change with time, and she would not address it now. After all, it was a sort of schoolroom that she was in now, and it would be until she managed it.

  Which made Izzy a teacher of sorts.

  How utterly bizarre.

  Izzy watched for a second as Mr. Morton situated himself in his designated chair, apparently perfectly content to sit in the room without participating in any way. Then she smiled at Kitty. “I will ask that the things I share with you stay between us. Not that anything I share will be particularly personal or shocking, but there is always a possibility.”

  Kitty nodded once, smiling a little. “I promise.”

  “And that goes for you, too, Mr. Morton,” Izzy called, looking over at him again.

  He glanced up with a crooked smile, his eyes crinkling. “I’m not even listening, Miss Lambert.”

  “It’s Izzy when in my home, Mr. Morton,” she informed him staunchly, “and I don’t believe that for a moment.”

  He chuckled in a low rumble. “I promise that if I hear anything, I will say nothing.”

  She wasn’t sure she believed him, so she looked back to Kitty. “Is that good enough, do you think?”

  Kitty’s smile flickered brighter for a moment. “Sebastian always keeps his word. Always honorable.”

  “Is he, indeed?” Izzy asked, glancing over to Mr. Morton again.

  He held up his hands in a helpless gesture, smiling at his sister, who smiled back.


  The adoration between the two siblings was touching and entertaining, and Izzy was wild to hear their story and more about their childhood, but that would come with time.

  “I wish my brothers were the same,” Izzy sighed, turning her full attention to Kitty. “I have three brothers, you know, and while they are perfect gentlemen for the rest of the world, the distinction did not apply to their sisters. Or to each other, for that matter.”

  Kitty cocked her head curiously. “Did they mistreat you?”

  Izzy’s smile turned coy. “Not technically, no. My eldest brother is a barrister, and he knew from his very early days how to avoid detection for crimes against his siblings. And then how to defend against the ones he was caught for.”

  A surprised burst of giggles escaped from Kitty, and she clamped down on her lips until they turned white.

  “William was the far more mischievous brother, though,” Izzy went on, warming to the entertaining descriptions now. “None of David’s tact, but twice his daring. There is a scar on my left knee from one of his more dastardly antics. Not that he intended to harm me, and he was actually quite horrified when he did. And all of this took place at our house in Kent, mind you, not here in London.”

  “Were you very injured?” Kitty asked, her tone not nearly so shy now.

  Izzy shook her head. “Not very, no. It wasn’t so bad, it only left a mark. I felt worse for my younger sister Catherine. She fainted dead away at the sight of the blood. The doctor had to tend to her longer than he had to tend to me.”

  Kitty giggled again, and the sound was so musical it was a delight to hear it. “I don’t have any stories of injuries or rambunctious actions. Sebastian has always been very collected and careful. I have no stories to tell like that.”

  There was a sad, whimsical note to her voice, but she smiled just as sincerely.

  “Not all brothers are like David and William,” Izzy assured her, squeezing her hand. “My youngest brother Peter is all of thirteen, and when he is home from school, he hides himself away and reads for hours on end. We had to drag him from the house for his riding lessons as a child.”