The Further Observations of Lady Whistledown

by Julia Quinn

  The third truth made him grind his teeth, nearly into powder. And that was that Susannah Ballister, who had so sweetly claimed not to know how to skate, was a little liar.

  He should have guessed it the minute she’d pulled her skates out of her bag. They didn’t look anything like what everyone else had strapped to their feet. David’s own skates were considered the height of new invention, and his consisted of long blades attached to wooden platforms, which he then tied onto his boots. Susannah’s blades were a bit shorter than average, but more importantly, they had been attached to her actual boots, requiring her to change her footwear.

  “I’ve never seen skates like that,” he commented, watching her with interest as she laced up her boots.

  “Er, it’s what we use in Sussex,” she said, and he couldn’t be certain if the pink on her cheeks was a blush or merely from the blustery wind. “One doesn’t have to worry about one’s skates coming off one’s boots if they’re already attached.”

  “Yes,” he said, “I can see where that would be an advantage, especially if one was not a proficient skater.”

  “Er, yes,” she mumbled. Then she coughed. Then she looked up at him and smiled, although it did, in all honesty, look a bit like a grimace.

  She switched to her other boot, her fingers moving nimbly as they worked the laces, despite being encased in gloves. David watched silently, and then he couldn’t help commenting, “And the blades are shorter.”

  “Are they?” she murmured, not looking up at him.

  “Yes,” he said, moving so that his skate lined up next to hers. “Look at that. Mine are at least three inches longer.”

  “Well, you’re a much taller person,” she replied, smiling up at him from her position on the bench.

  “An interesting theory,” he said, “except that mine do seem to be a standard size.” He waved his hand toward the river, where countless ladies and gentlemen were swishing across the ice…or falling on their bottoms. “Everyone’s skates are rather like mine.”

  She shrugged as she allowed him to help her to her feet. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she said, “except that skates like these are quite common in Sussex.”

  David glanced over at the poor, hapless Donald Spence, who was presently being poked in the back by his mother, Lady Moreland. The Morelands, he was fairly certain, hailed from Sussex, and their skates didn’t look a thing like Susannah’s.

  David and Susannah hobbled over to the edge of the ice—truly, who knew how to walk in skates on land?—and then he helped her onto the ice. “Mind your balance,” he instructed, rather enjoying the way she was clutching his arm. “Remember, it’s all in the knees.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “I shall.”

  They moved farther out onto the ice, David steering them to a less populated area where he wouldn’t have to worry so much about some buffoon crashing into them. Susannah seemed to be a natural, perfectly balanced and completely at one with the rhythm of skating.

  David narrowed his eyes with suspicion. It was difficult to imagine anyone taking to skating quite so quickly, much less a wisp of a girl. “You have skated before,” he said.

  “A few times,” she admitted.

  Just to see what happened, he drew to a swift halt. She held her own admirably, without even a stumble. “More than a few times, perhaps?” he asked.

  She caught her lower lip between her teeth.

  “Maybe more than a dozen times?” he asked, crossing his arms.

  “Er, maybe.”

  “Why did you tell me you couldn’t skate?”

  “Well,” she said, crossing her arms in a perfect imitation of his, “it might be because I was looking for an excuse not to come.”

  He drew back, at first surprised by her show of honesty, but then rather impressed despite himself. There were many, many superb things about being an earl, and a rich and powerful one at that. But honesty among one’s acquaintances was not one of them. David couldn’t count the number of times he’d wished someone would just look him in the eye and say what they really meant. People tended to tell him what they thought he wanted to hear, which, unfortunately, was rarely the truth.

  Susannah, on the other hand, was brave enough to tell him precisely what she was thinking. David was amazed at how refreshing it was, even when it meant that she was, in all truth, insulting him.

  And so he just smiled. “And have you changed your mind?”

  “About the skating party?”

  “About me,” he said softly.

  Her lips parted with shock at his question. “I—” she began, and he could see that she did not know how to respond. He started to say something, to save her from an uncomfortable moment of his creation, but then she surprised him when she raised her eyes to his, and with that directness he found so enticing, said, quite simply, “I am still deciding.”

  He chuckled. “I suppose that means I will have to hone my powers of persuasion.”

  She blushed, and he knew she was thinking of their kiss.

  This pleased him, as he’d been able to think of little else during the past few days. It made his torture a bit more bearable, knowing that she was enduring the same.

  But this wasn’t the time or place for seduction, and so he decided instead to uncover just how deeply she’d lied about her skating skills. “How well do you skate?” he asked, letting go of her arm and giving her a little push. “The truth, if you please.”

  She didn’t falter for a moment, just swished a few feet away and then came to a stunningly swift halt. “I’m rather good, actually,” she replied.

  “How good?”

  She smiled. Rather deviously. “Quite good.”

  He crossed his arms. “How good?”

  She glanced about the ice, gauging the positions of the people around them, then took off—fast—straight in his direction.

  And then, just when he was convinced she’d crash into him, toppling them both, she executed a neat little turn and circled around him, ending up right back where she’d started, in the twelve o’clock position.

  “Impressive,” he murmured.

  She beamed.

  “Especially for someone who doesn’t skate.”

  She didn’t stop beaming, but her eyes grew a little sheepish.

  “Any other tricks?” he inquired.

  She appeared undecided, so David added, “Go ahead. Be a show-off. I’m giving you permission.”

  She laughed. “Oh. Well, if that’s the case…” She skated a few steps out, then stopped and shot him a glance that was pure mischief. “I would never dream of doing this without your permission.”

  “Of course not,” he murmured, his lips twitching.

  She looked around, obviously making sure she had room for her maneuverings.

  “No one is even aimed in our direction,” he said. “The ice is all yours.”

  With a look of intense concentration, she skated a few yards until she had built up a bit of speed, and then, to his complete surprise, she spun.

  Spun. He had never seen anything like it.

  Her feet never left the ice, but somehow she was twirling about, once, twice, thrice…

  Good heavens, she made five complete rotations before she stopped, her entire being lit with joy. “I did it!” she called out, laughing on the words.

  “That was amazing,” he said, skating to her side. “How did you do it?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never managed five rotations before. It’s always been three, maybe four if I’m lucky, and half the time I fall.” Susannah was talking quickly, caught up in her own exhilaration.

  “Remind me not to believe you next time you say you can’t do something.”

  For some reason, his words made her grin. From the smile on her face right down deep to her very heart and soul, Susannah grinned. She’d spent the last few months feeling like a failure, like a laughingstock, constantly having to remind herself of all the things she could not or should not do. Now here was t
his man—this wonderful, handsome, intelligent man—telling her that she could do anything.

  And in the magic of the moment, she almost believed him.

  Tonight she would force herself back to reality, back to remembering that David was also an earl and—even worse—a Mann-Formsby, and that she was probably going to regret her association with him. But for now, while the sun was glistening diamond like off the snow and ice, while the cold wind felt like it was finally waking her up after a long, deep sleep, she was simply going to enjoy herself.

  And she laughed. Laughed right there, right then, without a care for how she looked or sounded or even if everyone was watching her as if she were some deranged lunatic. She laughed.

  “You must tell me,” David said, skating over to her side. “What is so funny?”

  “Nothing,” she said, catching her breath. “I don’t know. I’m just happy, that’s all.”

  Something changed in his eyes then. He had gazed at her before with passion, even with lust, but now she saw something deeper. It was as if he’d suddenly found her and never wanted to tear his eyes away. And maybe it was a practiced look, and he’d used it on thousands of women before, but oh, how Susannah didn’t want to think so.

  It had been so long since she’d felt special.

  “Take my arm,” he said, and she did, and soon they were swishing silently across the ice, moving slowly but fluidly as they dodged the other skaters.

  Then he asked her the one thing that she would never have expected. His voice was soft, and almost carefully casual, but his intensity was evident in the way his hand tightened on her arm. “What,” he asked, “did you see in Clive?”

  Somehow Susannah didn’t stumble, and somehow she didn’t slip, and somehow her voice sounded even and serene as she answered, “You almost make it sound as if you don’t care for your brother.”

  “Nonsense,” David replied. “I would give my life for Clive.”

  “Well, yes,” Susannah said, since she’d never doubted that for a moment. “But do you like him?”

  Several seconds passed, and their blades stroked the ice eight times before David finally said, “Yes. Everyone likes Clive.”

  Susannah looked at him sharply, intending to scold him for his evasive answer until she saw from his face that he intended to say more.

  “I love my brother,” David said, his words slow, as if he were making a final decision on each one mere seconds before he spoke it. “But I am not unaware of his shortcomings. I have every hope, however, that his marriage to Harriet will help him to grow into a more responsible and mature person.”

  A week ago Susannah would have taken his words as an insult, but now she recognized them as the simple statement of fact that they were. And it seemed only fair to answer him with the same honesty he’d given her.

  “I liked Clive,” she said, feeling herself slip into memory, “because—oh, I don’t know, I suppose it was because he always seemed so happy and free. It was contagious.” She shrugged helplessly, even as they rounded the corner of the pier, instinctively slowing down as they grew closer to the rest of the skating party. “I don’t think I was the only one who felt that way,” she continued. “Everyone liked to be near Clive. Somehow…” She smiled wistfully, and she smiled regretfully. Memories of Clive were bittersweet.

  “Somehow,” she finished softly, “everyone seemed to smile near him. Especially me.” She shrugged, the motion almost an apology. “It was exciting to be on his arm.”

  She looked to David, who was regarding her with an intense expression. But there was no anger, no recrimination. Just a palpable sense of curiosity, of a need to understand.

  Susannah let out a little breath—not quite a sigh, but something close to it. It was hard to put into words something that she’d never quite forced herself to analyze. “When you’re with Clive,” she eventually said, “everything seems…”

  It took her several seconds to locate the right word, but David did not press.

  “Brighter,” she finally finished. “Does that make sense? It’s almost as if he has a glow to him, and everything that comes into contact with it seems somehow better than it really is. Everyone seems more beautiful, the food tastes better, the flowers smell sweeter.” She turned to David with an earnest expression. “Do you understand what I mean?”

  David nodded.

  “But at the same time,” Susannah said, “I’ve come to realize that he shone so brightly—everything shone so brightly, actually—that I missed things.” She felt the corners of her lips pinch into a thoughtful frown as she tried to find the words for what she was feeling. “I didn’t notice things I should have done.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, and when she looked into his eyes, she knew that he wasn’t humoring her. He truly cared about her answer.

  “At the Worth ball, for example,” she said. “I was saved from what would surely have been a rather nasty episode by Penelope Featherington.”

  David’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I know her.”

  “That’s exactly my point. I never spared even so much as a thought for her last summer. Don’t mistake my point,” she assured him. “I was certainly never cruel to her. Just…unaware, I suppose. I didn’t pay attention to anyone outside my little social circle. Clive’s circle, in truth.”

  He nodded in understanding.

  “And it turns out she’s actually a very nice person.” Susannah looked up at him earnestly. “Letitia and I paid a call upon her last week. She’s very clever, too, but I never took the time to notice. I wish…” She paused, chewing on her lower lip. “I thought I was a better person than that, that’s all.”

  “I think you are,” he said softly.

  She nodded, staring off into the distance as if she might find the answers she needed on the horizon. “Maybe I am. I suppose I shouldn’t berate myself for my actions last summer. It was fun, and Clive was nice, and it was very exciting to be with him.” She smiled wistfully. “It’s difficult to refuse that—to be at the constant center of attention, to feel so loved and admired.”

  “By Clive?” David asked quietly.

  “By everyone.”

  Their blades cut across the ice—once, twice—before he replied, “So it wasn’t the man himself you loved, so much as the way he made you feel.”

  “Is there a difference?” Susannah asked.

  David appeared to consider her question quite deeply before finally saying, “Yes. Yes, I think there is.”

  Susannah felt her lips part, almost in surprise, as his words forced her to think harder and longer about Clive than she had in some time. She thought, and then she turned, and she opened her mouth to speak, but then—

  BAM!

  Something slammed into her, knocking the very breath from her body, sending her skidding across the ice until she fell heavy and hard into a snowbank.

  “Susannah!” David yelled, skating quickly to her side. “Are you all right?”

  Susannah blinked and gasped, trying to blow the snow from her face…and her eyelashes, and her hair, and, well, everywhere. She’d landed on her back, almost in a reclining position, and she was very nearly buried.

  She sputtered something that was probably a question—she wasn’t sure whether she’d said who, what, or how, and then managed to wipe enough snow from her eyes to see a woman in a green velvet coat skating furiously away.

  Susannah squinted. It was Anne Bishop, of all people, who Susannah knew quite well from the previous Season! She couldn’t believe Anne would knock her down and then flee the scene.

  “Why that little…”

  “Are you hurt?” David asked, interrupting her quite effectively as he crouched beside her.

  “No,” Susannah grumbled, “although I cannot believe that she skated away without so much as a query to my welfare.”

  David glanced over his shoulder. “No sign of her now, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, she’d better have a good excuse,” Susannah muttered. “Not
hing less than impending death will be acceptable.”

  David appeared to be fighting a grin. “Well, you don’t seem to be injured, and your mental capacities are quite clearly in working order, so would you like me to help you up?”

  “Please,” Susannah said, gratefully accepting his hand.

  Except that David’s mental capacities must not have been in working order, because he had remained in his crouch when he offered his hand, not realizing that he hadn’t the proper leverage to yank her to her feet, and after a precarious moment, in which they both seemed to be suspended halfway between the ice and an upright position, Susannah’s skates flew out from under her, and they both went tumbling down, back into the snowbank.

  Susannah laughed. She couldn’t help herself. There was something so wonderfully incongruous about the lofty Earl of Renminster buried in snow. He looked rather fetching, actually, with flakes on his eyelashes.

  “Do you dare mock me?” he pretended to boom, once he’d spat the snow from his mouth.

  “Oh, never,” she replied, biting her lip to stave off a giggle. “I wouldn’t dream of mocking you, My Lord Snowman.”

  His lips pursed into one of those expressions that tried to be annoyed but was really nothing more than amused. “Don’t,” he warned, “call me that.”

  “My Lord Snowman?” she echoed, surprised by his reaction.

  He paused, assessing her face with an expression of mild surprise. “You haven’t heard, then?”

  She shook her head as best as one could in the snow. “Heard what?”

  “Harriet’s relatives were rather distressed at the loss of their surname. Harriet’s the last of the Snowes, you realize.”

  “Which means…” Susannah’s lips parted with delighted horror. “Oh don’t tell me…”

  “Indeed,” David replied, looking very much as if he wanted to laugh but thought he shouldn’t. “My brother must now be correctly referred to as Clive Snowe-Mann-Formsby.”

  “Oh, I’m evil,” Susannah said, laughing so hard the snowbank shook. “I am truly an evil, unkind person. But I can’t…I can’t help it…I…”

  “Go ahead and laugh,” David told her. “I assure you, I did.”