The Further Observations of Lady Whistledown (Lady W 1) by Julia Quinn Read Free Book Online

forgot our kiss as well, and I should remind you.”
    She closed her eyes for a brief moment. “I don’t think that would be wise,” she whispered, gazing up at him again.
    “Amen,” the maid muttered.
    Maximilian glanced over at her. Daisy was right, as was Anne. He needed to show restraint; he’d already realized that pushing his betrothed only made her push back. And he had no intention of letting her get away now.
    “Very well,” he said, reluctance making him sigh. “Then might I instead ask you to join me this afternoon? I’ve been invited to an ice skating party on the Thames.”
    Her fine cheeks paled. “Oh.”
    Suspicion tightened the muscles across his shoulders. “What is it?”
    “I’ve…Lord Howard was here earlier. I agreed to attend with him.”
    Damn that buffoon . “You kiss me, and you make plans with him?”
    “She kissed him, too,” the maid blurted, and ducked her head.
    “Daisy!”
    “What?’ ’
    Anne took several more steps backward. “I didn’t kiss him. He kissed me.”
    Maximilian clenched his fists. “Has he kissed you before?”
    “No! Of course not.”
    He believed her, but anger continued to charge through his muscles and his nerves. Desmond Howard had touched her, and she’d agreed to go skating with the bastard. “I’m not playing a game with you, Anne,” he said stiffly. “And I would appreciate if you would do me the courtesy of not playing one with me.”
    “I wasn’t—”
    “Enjoy your skating.” Too annoyed and too bloody frustrated to continue conversing in anything resembling polite tones, Maximilian turned on his heel to stalk back down the hallway, grab his coat and hat from the surprised butler, and stride back out to the street.
    Cursing, he swung up on Kraken and trotted back toward Trent House. One damned thing was certain; he was going ice skating on the Thames that afternoon. Lord Howard might have the edge for the moment, but Anne Bishop belonged to him.
    Anne sat between Theresa and Pauline on the bench provided for the ladies. The Morelands had invited nearly a hundred guests from the looks of it, and she fervently hoped the ice of the new-frozen Thames would hold all the resulting weight.
    “I’ve been doing a gender count,” Pauline whispered, as her maid helped her fasten the ice skates over her boots.
    “What did you expect?” Anne returned in the same low voice, for Lord and Lady Moreland were only a short distance away at the end of Swan Lane Pier. The orchestra they’d hired for the outing seemed absurd in the extreme, but at least they were on the pier and not adding to the strain on the ice.
    “What do you mean?” Theresa asked, tentatively standing in the last inches of snow before the river ice began.
    “One hundred guests, and nearly seventy-five of them are female,” Pauline said dryly. “What do you think it means?”
    “Oh. Donald again.”
    For the past four years Viscount and Lady Moreland had been holding off-Season soirées, presumably because most of the other young bucks would be elsewhere, in hopes of convincing some young lady that their son, Donald Spence, was a fine catch. Everyone knew the ruse, and obviously no one was fishing. Each year the ratio of female to male guests grew greater, but still no one had fallen for Donald’s lackluster charms. Anne had already spent ten minutes conversing with him, having been cornered nearly the moment she descended from Desmond’s carriage. It seemed to be the price of admission to the soirée, but if anything he’d grown duller since last she’d seen him.
    “Here comes Lord Howard,” Pauline muttered. “I’m off. Wish me luck.”
    “Don’t break anything,” Anne called after her. The warning was unnecessary; Pauline swished across the ice as though she’d been doing it daily for years.
    Lord Howard trudged over from the men’s bench as Anne climbed to her feet. She hadn’t skated in ages and barely then, but from the look of some of the other guests,