#placing my bets on 'artist in exile' title

[autistme]

DYSPHORIA HOODIE ENJOYERS REJOICE

[kickingitwithkirk]

Beyond Seduction

Summary: Isobella Tennant wants her independence but society dictates she must conform to their ways. Sam Winchester is the most sought after artist in London and one of its most notorious rakes. He also has a secret he’s kept hidden. They come together with their own agendas and find something more than either expected.

Pairing: Artist!Sam Winchester x Isobella Tennant

Word Count: 3137

Warnings: Cursing, appearance shaming, low self esteem, dominating mother, attempted abduction and assault

A/N: for #OC Apprecation Day 2020 #OC’s are People Too

A/N II: Few months ago I came across a stash of old romance novels I’ve had for umpteen years when I had this idea for a series with Sam Winchester. I had been playing with for a while, getting nowhere, and one evening I was watching Thomas Kinkade’s Christmas Cottage with Jared Padalecki and viola Artist!Sam.    Not an original title but I liked the sound of it.

Part II Masterlist

*no beta, all mistakes are mine

London 1875

December 21

“Your daughter will marry my son by lent.” Arthur Ketch forcefully stated as he stood in front of the drawing room window.

“Of course Isobella will marry Ernest, but it’s impossible to do it that soon,” Lavinia Tennant, the Duchess of Monmouth huffed out, running her hand down the over skirt of her terre D'Egypte dress trying to hide nervousness running through her, “but she is the only daughter of the Duke of Monmouth, it will take at least a year to plan once the bannes have been read.”

“I have given you too much leeway already Lavi and will not have my son wait any longer,” Ketch said calmly, calling her the beloved nickname her husband gave her on their wedding night. Walking over and reaching out to stroke her cheek, watching with satisfaction as she trembled when he grabbed her arm instead, “or I will go to your husband about us.”

It wasn’t the first time he had inferred he would do it but there was something more in his tone this time.

Ketch’s roughness had been exciting, eliciting intense pleasures she had never felt and had come to crave. He was a far cry from her husband, who possessed a loving countenance and even temperament.

She couldn’t initially understand why Ketch hadn’t been accepted by their society. He was intelligent, charming and a Baron after all, even if the title had been bought by his father, who had been in the coal trade.

It was when she tried to end their affair his true intentions surfaced. Ketch had pursued her for the political advancement of his only son Ernest, who worked for Lavinia’s husband in Parliament.

Ketch planned to make his son Prime Minister of England and the Duke of Monmouth’s connections were his ticket. Blackmailing the duchess into forcing her only daughter Isobella to marry Ernest would solidify his position in society.

“I’ve instructed Ernest to propose again at your party in two weeks and she better not refuse him this time, you’ll make sure of that I have no doubt.” Ketch’s menacing tone said it all, he would follow through on his threat this time.

New Years Eve

“I hear he is indeed very talented,” Alexandra Pembrook informs her companion as they strolled into the library, stopping in front of the newly unveiled portrait of David Tennant, the Duke of Monmouth, “and not just as a painter according to Lady Vance.”

Isobella Tennant looked at her friend raising an eyebrow, “Since when do you listen to the idol gossip of Beatrice Vance? I thought you two weren’t speaking.”

“That juicy tidbit came by way of her ladies maid. Apparently, she overheard Beatrice telling Lady Lucas how her husband came home unexpectedly and almost caught them In flagrante delicto.”

“This is why I’m happy that I got Katie, she would never gossip about any goings on in this household.” Isobella firmly stated.

Katie had been her mother’s governess before becoming hers and then ladies maid after she was presented in society. Katie moved slower with age and hard of hearing so if anything scandalous was said in her presence, she’d never hear it anyways.

“I also heard he spent three months pursuing Lady De Burgh,” Isobella squinted slightly, trying to place the woman, “you know, Queen Victoria’s newest lady-in-waiting. Palace gossip is that he likes to savor his quarry like delicate morsels, bit by bit.”  She licked her lips in emphasis, “Too bad he didn’t see you when he was here, I’d bet my new phaeton he would’ve been more than up for the challenge of obtaining you.”

“Lexi!” Isobella gasped, using her best friend since they were both in pram’s nickname, trying to sound scandalized at the implication but grinned at her knowing the notorious Sam Winchester, who she only saw briefly once while her father was sitting for him, wouldn’t have noticed her even if he sat on her.

She did not possess the in favor looks like Lexi; golden blond hair, cornflower blue eyes and envious curves that were enhanced by the fashions of the day, that seemed to tempt him judging by his preferred quarry.

Isobella or Izzy, as everyone but her mother called her, had inherited her grandmother Tennant’s shock of long, thick, unruly copper gold hair, as did her four brothers, who at least had the fortune of being able to keep theirs shorn short, and pale skin covered in cinnamon freckles for days. What couldn’t be overlooked by anyone was, like her brothers, she was tall.

So tall in fact, she stood at least half a head and, in some cases, a full head taller than most of the men in their acquaintance. Her only redeeming qualities, according to her mother, was her title of Lady Tennant and the inheritance that came with it.

Despite being the plainest deb to enter society in years when she was eighteen, Isobella had a line of suitors and was greatly admired for her kindness, quick wit, and intelligence, especially in debate, having learned the skill at her father’s knee.

Now her admirers had drastically fallen away. It seemed what was admired in the girl wouldn’t be tolerated in the woman.

Isabella’s options were dwindling as she was no longer a blossoming flower in society, being just a few months away from turning twenty three.  

“Lexi, what kind of scandal could I get into, it’s not like I’ve got suitors beating down my door anymore.”

Lexi looked fondly at her best friend. She didn’t understand what had happened to all of Izzy’s admirers either. Her place in society and her illustrious title as the only daughter of the Duke of Monmouth had drawn a lot of the lesser ranking gentleman showing interest but she knew her friend well enough that their status wouldn’t matter to her if they actually loved her.

“You know Ernest is planning on asking again tonight.”

“You know I will decline again.”

“I can’t understand why you keep turning him down Izzy. He is dependable, would give you everything…”

“You know I love Ernest like a brother but there is no way we could make a go of it. He is too placid and I’m…”

“A damn handful, especially when that hard head of yours gets an idea. I didn’t love Pembrook when I agreed to marry him but now…I can’t imagine my life without him.”

“What I want is a man who will love me as is, let me be myself, not expect me to change for the sake of their ego.”

January 10

“Isobella Tennant, tell me that what I heard is not true!” Lavinia yelled as she swept into the breakfast nook.

Izzy and her father both looked up at the overwrought duchess. “Heard what mother?”

“That you were seen racing Ambrose Murdoch on the commons in a pair of breeches!”

“He said Boudicia couldn’t be as quick as his hunter being a mare…”

“And you were riding astride like some common…”

“… I wasn’t gonna let him get away with insulting my horse!”

“Horses, horses, horses! That’s all you think about! It’s time you stop messing with those animals and start breeding my next grandchild!”

“Lavinia! Don’t speak to our daughter that way.”

“David, I need to speak to you privately.” The duchess replied through her clenched teeth.

***

“Our daughter has turned down Ernest again, he is her last chance of getting married and it’s time you put your foot down and insist on her accepting him.” The Duke opened his mouth to say something, “No David, no more excuses. I know she is your favorite for some unfathomable reason and you’ve coddled her for far to long. She is not a fresh candidate anymore and with her plain looks and stubbornness finding another man to marry her…”

The Duke sighed as she droned on about Izzy turning out to be such a disappointment, too strong willed and independent for a woman, saddened that his wife had such a low opinion of their only daughter.

Isobella had always marched to her own beat, which was completely out of tune with her mother’s, long ago learning how to appease her vanity when it became apparent Izzy would not be the beauty her mother had been in her day.

Lavinia Emerson had been the most sought after debutante of her day, possessing luxurious blond locks, chocolate brown eyes and acres of creamy skin encasing a figure that, even after bearing five children, still turned heads.

When she accepted his proposal, David Tennant was under no illusion it was for anything other than for his title as the future Duke of Monmouth. But over the years she had come to love him and they had a good marriage, raising four fine son’s, all married with families of their own except Richard, the youngest at nineteen.

And yes, Izzy was his favorite, not because she was the only girl but she reminded him of his mother, she had that same free spirit but hadn’t above changing her ways for the sake of her family, as he was sure Izzy would once she was married.

“We’ve discussed this before and it’s time to tell her.”

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right, if she didn’t accept Ernest, who was an upstanding gentleman despite who his father was; Isobella would end up either alone, being exiled to the edge of good society and tainting her brother’s families or forced to marry anyone who would be willing to take her at her age.

Two nights later

Izzy stared out the large window still unable to comprehend the ultimatum her parents had given her.

Marry Ernest or loose Katie, her horses, and her freedom.

Her father knew what it would do to her under this virtual house arrest, to be at her mother’s by your leave and constant verbal assaults.

It would’ve been kinder to send her to a nunnery.

She thought about her visit to Lexi earlier that day.

“What choice do you have Izzy, you have to marry Ernest, you’d lose your sanity if your mother takes over complete control of your life.”

“If I’m gonna consider giving up my life, there’s one last thing I want to do and you’re going with me.”

Lexi sat up, “One last prank?”

Changing into the god awful orange servants dress she had wriggled from Lexi, Izzy ran down the servants staircase and out their entrance at the back of the house and hailed a hack to take her to Lexi’s and then the music hall.

Izzy walked hurriedly along the quiet streets after the variety shows had let out. She had been unable to find another hack after Lexi left for home so she was forced to start walking. It wasn’t the safest thing for anyone to do at night, especially an unaccompanied woman.

She was almost to the back gate of the grounds when she was grabbed by a man hiding in the shadows.

~~~

Sam Winchester pushed his hands deeper into his coat pockets, not actually cold from the night air turning chilly but disconsolate; it was his periodic companion. This last eighteen months all he had produced was portraits of London’s elite citizens, nothing inspiring him to create anything original, which gave him his fame in the first place.

He had decided to walk for a bit after leaving the Duke of Monmouth’s having repaired the loose corner of the frame around the portrait of said man. He liked the Duke, he possessed a sarcastic humor and  was personable.

For a Tory.

Sam was halfway along the high wall surrounding the vast estate when he heard a rough voice hissing in the shadows, “Stop struggling bitch or I’ll give it to you far worse.”

He ran to the end of the wall remembering there was an alleyway leading to a back entrance. Pausing at the opening he was thankful a gas light was nearby illuminating a burly man struggling to hang onto a woman in a hideous orange dress who was putting up one hell of a fight to get away.

“Hey, let her go!” Sam shouted, rushing towards them.

“Fuck off, this ones mine!” He yelled, shoving her to the ground.

Sam swung his large fist smashing into the stranger’s face. He grabbed his bloody nose for a monument and then threw a surprise right hook making contact with Sam’s left temple briefly stunning him and making his getaway.

“Bastard,” Sam spit out, rubbing his head knowing he’d probably have a headache later. He turned to the woman on the ground. She had drawn her legs up, arms wrapped around her legs shaking.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he stepped towards her causing her to start crawling backwards away from him till she bumped into the wall.

Sam squatted down in front of her, holding his hands out in a peaceful gesture and spoke softly to her, “ I’m not gonna hurt you Miss, I want to make sure you’re not hurt, can you nod if you understand me.”

She nodded once, finally looking up from the ground at him.

Sam’s breath caught.

Even under the dim gas light he could make out her unique features and felt that particular skittering under his skin urging him to grab a brush and create like he hadn’t in a very long time.

“I’m Sam Winchester,” standing up he holds out his right hand to her.

“Is..Izzy Morgan.” She replies, taking his outstretched hand. A sensation rippled throughout her in a way she never had with any man, not even with Lord Greyson.

He was the only man Izzy had freely offered herself to and had rejected her in a not so polite manner, publicly gossiping about her attempted seduction of him. It was quickly quashed by her brothers paying him a brief visit.

Sam released her hand, staring intently as he lightly ran his long fingers along her jaw, tracing the contours of; her forehead, curved cheekbones, full lips and nondescript nose, fascinated with the freckles he could just make out in the dim, scattered on her soft skin.

If only it wasn’t so dark to make out the color of her eyes but that hair, absolutely wondrous! He dropped his hand and picked up the tendrils that had come loose running them between his fingers fascinated that it was silky, not wiry, with its kinkiness as he assumed.

She was plain and exquisite at the same time.

“I would love to paint you if you’ll allow me,” she scrunched her forehead confused, “could you ask your employer for time off?”

“You want to paint me, why?”

Sam dropped the hand still playing with her hair and pulled from his coat pocket his card to show he was serious.

“I will pay you generously for your time. If you like I can speak..”

“No! I’m sorry but it’s impossible,” Izzy hurried to the gate and opened it, “thank you for helping me, I am grateful..”

“Then repay it by posing for me.” Sam deepens his whiskey-honeyed voice and watches as she shivered, reacting to it as he hoped.

“I’m sorry but I can’t.”

~~~

Izzy awoke late the next morning exhausted from her previous night’s adventures. She shuddered feeling the bruises acquired during the struggle with her would be rapist.

The door to her bedroom opened and a younger woman she didn’t recognize entered carrying a tray of tea and a light breakfast.

“Good morning my lady, I wasn’t sure what you would like so I bought a few things. Please let me know what you prefer.”

“Who are you and where is Katie?”

“I’m Margaret, your mother engaged me to be your ladies maid. I was informed that Katie decided to leave and be with her sister in Brighton, my lady.”

“Please take the tray, I only have tea in the mornings and pull out my dark brown riding habit. I’ll dress myself today and will be gone till dinner, thank you.” Isobella instructed, heading into her bath and waited for the maid to leave. After she departed Izzy threw on her outfit and hurried to the stable, saddling the first horse there and took off to Lexi’s for a confab about what to do next.

January 19

Her fingers shook nervously as she buttoned up the servants dress she had borrowed from Lexi again. From the trunk she pulled out the big overcoat and long scarf that used to belong to Phillip, her oldest brother. He had given them to her years ago when the family was in Scotland and hers had proven inadequate for riding in the climate there. Opening a small drawer she removed her old, worn riding gloves and slipped them on. She closed the trunk and locked it.

Making her way up the exterior stairs to the street Isobella locked the door leading to the cellar of Lexi’s home and walked to the hired hack waiting for her, instructing the driver to her final destination.

As the carriage travels over the cobblestone streets Isobella goes over the plan one more time to make sure nothing was missed.

Lexi had suggested she should come with her to Wales while her husband sorted out the details from his father’s sudden passing making him the new Lord of Whitmore. That sparked an idea in Izzy’s mind and they set about laying out the details to pull it off.

Isobella knew her parents, or rather her father, wouldn’t object to her traveling with her best friend to give her some time to consider Ernest’s proposal; with a slight hint that she was inclined to accept upon returning.

What none of them knew was she had her own plan in place and it was to be the scandal of the decade.

The hack dropped her off at the end of the quiet street and she walked briskly towards the address on the card.

~~~

Sam came downstairs in no better mood than he had been when his butler Crowley had awoken him late in the afternoon. At least he was dressed. Well, as dressed as he was willing to get in a clean shirt, trousers and no shoes. He had an odd exchange with the new boy Crowley had engaged to help since he was, according to Crowley, seriously understaffed with the size of his household. Sam laughed considering it was only him, Crowley, Mrs. Mills the cook and a maid.

The new boy had scurried off the fetch more coal as the door knocker sounded. Sam opened it and was stunned to see who was standing there.

“Are you still interested in painting me?”

tbc

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