The Further Observations of Lady Whistledown

by Julia Quinn

  “Forni—Aunt Maddie!” Edmund blustered.

  “Demme, Edmund! It’s for-ni-cate. Try to listen, will you? And stop dawdling about and return my books. I don’t have all day, you know.”

  Edmund sent Royce a harried look, but he obediently took the books to the nearest desk.

  As soon as he was out of earshot, Lady Birlington’s sharp gaze narrowed on Royce, a faint lift to the corner of her thin mouth. “As for you, I can’t imagine you wish to speak to me about a Methodist. Must be some other Durham.”

  Royce had the distinct impression he was being teased. “I am speaking about the Lord Durham you recommended as a potential suitor to your goddaughter.”

  “Ah, that Durham. Why didn’t you say so? I know him quite well. But you’ve got one thing wrong: I didn’t recommend him as a suitor.”

  Royce almost grinned. He couldn’t wait to tell Liza how sadly she was mistaken. He opened his mouth to thank Lady Birlington for her time when she added, “But I did recommended him as a potential husband.”

  Husband. The word cut as sharply as the icy air.

  The old woman sniffed. “Don’t look at me like that! There’s no need for Liza to dither about like a schoolroom miss. She’s a smart gel and not getting any younger. She has too much sense to throw away her chances because of a bunch of lame courtship nonsense. That’s for dewy-eyed youngsters.”

  “Liza may not be in the first bloom of youth, but she is very attractive and incredibly wealthy.”

  Lady Birlington’s blue eyes shimmered, as hard as agates. “I know that Liza has the capabilities of attracting a man in her own right, with or without a fortune, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  Royce’s ears burned. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you didn’t appreciate her merits,” he said stiffly. “I just wanted to be certain that whatever man she settled on was worthy of her attentions.”

  “Lord Durham is levelheaded, respectable, and as boring as they come. Can’t stand him, personally, but I thought he might be the thing for Liza. Between the two of you, you and your sister, Liza never gets to meet any interesting men.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Don’t play the innocent with me! I’ve seen you chase off any number of men over the years.”

  “Only ineligible ones.”

  “Ineligible for whom? You’ve been selfish with Liza long enough. It is time you let her live her own life.”

  “I am willing to let her live however she wishes, so long as she doesn’t bring harm to herself.”

  “Humph! I know you mean well, but perhaps Liza likes fortune hunters. She seems to have a penchant for handsome rakehells.”

  Rakehells? How could Durham be respectable and a rakehell? Royce’s jaw tightened, and he was aware of a slow, thick rumble of frustration weighting his chest. Liza was steadily slipping out of his life; he had no time for boring homilies. “I only want what’s best for Liza.”

  Lady Birlington’s gaze softened slightly. “Liza is bound to make mistakes. Plenty of ’em. We all do. But that doesn’t give you the right to take choices away from her.”

  “And if she falls for the flattery of a scoundrel?”

  “Liza’s too smart for that, and you know it. Leave her be. She’s more than capable of handling Durham. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must find Edmund. The last time I left him alone in the library, he found a section of completely inappropriate books and they shocked him so much he was unable to sleep for a week. Good day.”

  Royce clamped his jaw into a forced smile and bowed. As soon as Lady Birlington moved away, he turned on his heel and walked back into the frigid wind. It blew hard, slamming the door closed behind him and seeping into the buttonholes of his coat and down his collar. It was colder than yesterday, but inside Royce simmered, anger bubbling a heated path all the way to the soles of his feet.

  How dare Lady Birlington accuse him of standing in the way of Liza’s happiness? The idea was ludicrous. Everything he’d ever done for Liza had been in her best interests. Fortunately, in a few hours Royce would have his answers about Durham. He’d meet this paragon and make up his own mind as to the proper course of action. For the first time in his life, Royce found himself actually looking forward to attending the theater.

  “Waiting for your coach?” a warm, feminine voice asked.

  He turned to find the object of his musings standing before him, resplendent in a red pelisse over a burnt orange gown. Liza’s footman stood discreetly behind her, loaded with bandboxes.

  Royce grinned at the sight of the purchases piled so precariously in the arms of her footman. This was the Liza he knew. “Been shopping, eh?”

  “Of course. What else is one to do in such weather?” The wind blew wickedly, and Liza shivered, pulling the edges of her hood closer about her face. “Raspberries and cream!” she exclaimed. “It’s cold enough to freeze a fire.”

  “Yes, is it. I was looking for my carriage, but it appears my coachman has taken the horses for a walk to keep them warm.”

  Liza peered down the street, loosened tendrils of hair dancing about her cheeks. “Why don’t you come with me while you’re waiting? I’m just going to that shop on the corner. Meg swears they have the best selection of ribbons in London, though I have my doubts.”

  “Lead the way. It will be warmer in a shop than out here on the street.” He fell into step beside her, her footman still following. They entered the neat building, and he was glad to be out of the frigid wind.

  Royce waited patiently while Liza peered at all the goods lying on the tables. She fingered a thick trove of ribbons. “George has chewed all my red ribbons to tatters. He loves that color.”

  Royce picked up a lavender ribbon. “What about this one? It would look good with your hair.”

  “Too tame.” She took the ribbon and replaced it on the table. “I’m looking for something more vibrant.” She picked up a cherry red ribbon and examined it in the light. “You are coming to the theater tonight, aren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Her gaze settled on him for an instant, a flicker of impatience in their green depths. “Perhaps it is a good thing I ran into you. Royce, please do not quiz Durham too much. He’s a bit of an innocent.”

  Royce frowned. “I mean him no harm. Surely you know that.”

  “I know. It’s just that…Well, you and I both have a tendency to say what we think. It can be rather disrupting to those who are not used to it.”

  “I shall try to restrain myself.” Royce found a sea green ribbon that matched her eyes. He laid it across her shoulder. It hung there, against the light brown tendril of hair that had escaped her hood. Meg had accused him of not really seeing Liza, but she was wrong. Royce did see Liza. He knew the curve of her cheek, the exact color of her eyes, the way her bottom lip stretched just a bit wider than her top one when she smiled. A slow heat crept through his heart as he regarded that very mouth. Lush and inviting, it was perfectly shaped for ki—

  “You look frozen to death. Even your nose is red.” Liza pulled the ribbon free and dropped it back on the table. “Are you taking ill?”

  Wonderful. He was thinking of her lovely mouth and she was wondering if his red nose meant he was catching the ague. Nettled, he shrugged. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you. I was just thinking about something Meg said.”

  “Oh? What did Meg say?”

  There was something particularly beguiling about the way Liza spoke. Simple and direct. Most women tormented a man to death with scarcely thought out words and half-developed thoughts. But then this was Liza, and she was far superior to any woman he’d ever known.

  Superior? Since when had he begun thinking of Liza as superior to all other women? He blinked. “Where are you going after you’ve procured enough ribbons to twine yourself into a tizzy?”

  She chuckled. “Home, to dress for the theater. You know, I’m surprised to find you in this part of town. You don’t usually shop. Did you have errand
s for Meg?”

  “Lord, no. That’s your department as her best friend. I am merely to show up at her balls and dance with all the plain women in sight.”

  “You never dance with any but women of the first water, diamonds every one.”

  “That’s unfair. I danced with Sara Haughton-Smythe just last week.”

  “She does have a sad squint.” Liza collected the handful of ribbons she’d selected and handed them to a waiting clerk, then pulled open her reticule and took out a coin. “But she is a lovely girl. I hope you dance with her again.”

  “I shall,” Royce said promptly. He was rewarded with a grateful smile that made him feel as if he’d just saved a baby from certain death.

  Liza handed her now neatly wrapped ribbons to her footman and waited while he set down her other purchases and then tucked them into a pocket. “There,” she said brightly. “I’m all done. Now all we need to do is wait for the carriage. We should be able to see it from here.”

  Royce followed her to the window. The wind rattled the thin glass in the pane, and small puffs of cold air leaked into the shop.

  Liza tightened the string on her reticule. “Where are you off to now?”

  “Tattersall’s. I wish to see Milford’s breakdowns. He had to sell his horses due to gambling debts, and I heard they could be had for a song.”

  “And I heard they were short on the haunch and easily winded. I thought about bidding on them myself, but I’ve no wish to be rooked twice in one year.”

  “When did anyone ever cheat you?”

  “When I purchased Halmontford’s matched set of grays. Don’t you remember?”

  “Ah, yes. The front one had an odd kick to his gallop.”

  “And nearly overset me the first time I had him to harness.”

  Royce watched as she brushed a strand of hair from her face with her gloved hand. Her hair had always had a tendency to escape every attempt to secure it. He wondered what it would look like loose, flowing down her back. To his shock, his unruly imagination went a step further and stripped her of clothing. She was long-limbed and well proportioned, her skin smooth and creamy, her breasts high and—no. Those were thoughts better left unthought.

  He shifted uneasily and tried to remember what they’d been talking about. “What did you do with that horse? Did you send him to the tannery?”

  “He’s in my barn, eating his head off and growing absurdly fat. I can’t decide what to do with him. He’s a beautiful animal, and though I have my groom take him out for a ride every day, it isn’t enough exercise for a high-strung animal.”

  “Sell him.”

  “A horse with a lumpy gait? I’d rather cut off my arm. I’m not like you, able to ignore my conscience at a whim.”

  “When have I ignored my conscience?”

  “Last summer, when you played the Contessa d’Aviant at cards. You counted the queens and knew she couldn’t possibly draw the card she needed to win.”

  “Counting cards is not cheating.”

  “No, but you knew she could not cover her debts and yet you allowed her to wager an incredible sum and then you offered to allow her to work off her debt by—” A delicious color bloomed in Liza’s cheeks. “I heard the rumors and I know what happened.”

  Bloody hell, who had told her about that? Royce found he could not quite meet her gaze. “You shouldn’t listen to gossip,” he said, and then winced because he sounded so damned old. And somehow, it seemed a happening worse than death for Liza to think him old.

  “Royce, you know me.” A half-shy, half-devilish grin touched her lips. “I love a good gossip. One hears the most deliciously naughty things.”

  Royce wondered why he’d never noticed how lovely she looked when she blushed. He resolved then and there to make her blush as often as he could. “Yes, well, whoever filled your head with such a ridiculous story should be shot.”

  “I notice you aren’t denying it. You have to admit you were shameless with the poor contessa.”

  He had been shameless. But it wasn’t as if Regina hadn’t enjoyed the encounter. In fact, the wager had added a certain piquancy to their subsequent meetings. They even continued seeing each other long after the contessa had earned off her losses.

  Liza peered out the window for her carriage. “That wasn’t the only time you ignored your conscience. There was also the time you asked that actress to—”

  “We weren’t speaking of me,” Royce said hastily, “but of your horse. The fat one eating his head off in your stables. Remember him?”

  Her expression softened. “Prinny is a fine horse.”

  “Prinny? You named him after the Prince?”

  “I had to call him something. Halmontford gave him a name that was entirely inappropriate.”

  “What?”

  To Royce’s delight, Liza’s cheeks pinkened again, this time even more deeply. “I’m not telling,” she said firmly. “Suffice it to say Prinny is a much better name.” She met Royce’s gaze and gave a wry grin. “At least it is until the Prince hears of it, which will not happen unless he strolls into my stable and asks.”

  Royce wondered what it was that made Liza unique. It wasn’t just her clothing, though that was unusual in itself. It was something more. Perhaps it was the intelligence in her green eyes, or the way her face crinkled up when she laughed, but whatever it was, it roused in him the most peculiar desire to grin and never stop.

  Yet Liza wasn’t smiling now. Instead her brow was furrowed in thought. “I really should purchase an estate in the country somewhere. I could send Prinny out to pasture then. It would be much nicer than leaving him locked in my pitifully small stables.”

  “You can’t purchase an entire estate just so you have a place for one fat horse.”

  “No?” she said, obviously unconvinced. “It’s just…poor Prinny.” Suddenly she brightened. “Perhaps I should ask my friend Lord Durham to take him for me. He has quite a large amount of farmland and he is certainly willing to—”

  “I’ll take him.”

  Royce blinked. Dear God, was that his voice? How in the world had he come to offer to care for a fat, slovenly, ill-gaited horse? Yet he had. Anything to keep Liza from indebting herself to Durham.

  Liza should have looked happy—thankful, even. Instead, she regarded him with disbelief. “You would take my horse?”

  “Of course. I have more than enough pastureland at Rotherwood. I daresay my head groom would welcome an addition to the stables. All I have are a few hunters.”

  She appeared astounded. “That’s…that’s quite the nicest thing you’ve ever done. Are you well?”

  He made an exasperated noise. “Of course I’m well! How can you even wonder? As for that being the nicest thing I’ve ever done, what about the time I drove you to Brighton so you could visit that Terrance woman? You were dying to go as I recall, and no one would take you.”

  “Her name is Lillith Terrance; her husband is an admiral. And if I remember correctly, the only reason you offered to drive me was because you needed an excuse to go there anyway. Something about a woman named…oh, what was it? Olivia, perhaps?”

  Royce opened his mouth to refute Liza’s claims when a vague memory tickled his conscience. Oh yes. The fair Olivia. She’d been a week’s worth of entertainment, now that he thought about it. But little else.

  He suddenly saw himself through Liza’s eyes. His entire life seemed filled with short-lived entertainments. Some brunette, some blond, some redheaded. All perfectly lush and willing to flirt, pass the time, or romp in bed, depending on their circumstances. They’d all been attractive, merry, and, for some reason or another, completely unsuitable.

  Royce caught Liza’s knowing gaze. But instead of condemnation, a laugh lurked in her eyes, her lips pressed together as if she was trying to keep from falling into a spate of mad giggles.

  “Don’t even say it,” he said testily. “Your memory is too damned accurate for my peace of mind.”

  “Poor thing,” she said, c
huckling all the same.

  The footman appeared. “The carriage has arrived.”

  “Thank goodness,” she exclaimed. She went out into the cold, Royce close behind her.

  He assisted her into her coach, waving off the footman who lingered to help.

  Liza leaned down to smile at him, ignoring the cold wind that whipped across her and blew her hood from her head. “Thank you for accompanying me. I hate to shop alone.”

  “It was my pleasure, though I am beginning to believe I owe you an apology for embroiling you in my contretemps over the years.”

  “Whatever for? I enjoyed every last one.” She sent him a frank look and hesitated. Finally she said, “We’ve always been close, haven’t we?”

  He took her hand in his and pulled off the glove, exposing her bared fingers. Long and elegant, they were unadorned, yet another characteristic that was all hers. He lifted her fingers and brushed his lips over her knuckles, savoring the warmth of her skin against his lips.

  For an instant, desire pulsed through him, hot and ready. It took him completely by surprise. Startled, he looked up into her eyes and realized with a shock that she felt the same thing.

  She yanked her fingers free. “I—I—that is not necessary.” Where she’d blushed before, now she looked positively ablaze, her cheeks so red it appeared she had been slapped. “Thank you for your offer to take Prinny.”

  “I didn’t just offer,” he said with forced lightness, stepping back from the carriage. It seemed imperative that he put some space between them. “I’ll send a groom this week to take him to Rotherwood.”

  “Thank you, Royce.”

  “And thank you for a lovely afternoon.” Without giving her time to respond, he closed the carriage door and nodded to the coachman to go on.

  Strange as it sounded, Royce was beginning to believe that some evil spirit was at work, making him think and feel things he shouldn’t think and feel. And now he was the proud caretaker of a fat, odd-gaited horse. He supposed he was just lucky Liza didn’t want to be rid of George or he’d have ended up with a very feisty monkey.