The Further Observations of Lady Whistledown (Lady W 1) Read Free

period.”
    “So I did. First, however, I would be honored if you would accompany me to—” he flipped over the worn gossip sheet—“to the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane tonight, to see The Merchant of Venice .” He looked up at her again. “I believe Edmund Kean is playing Shylock.”
    “Yes, he is,” she said, a smile lighting her eyes to emeralds. “He’s supposed to be quite remarkable. In fact—” She stopped, blushing.
    “In fact, what?” he queried.
    “Nothing.”
    “Good. Then I’ll collect you at seven this evening.” Feeling the need to touch her, Maximilian took one more slow step forward. Running his hand down her wrist, he uncurled her fingers from the material of her gown.
    She made a small sound like a gasp as he brought her hand up, brushing his lips across her knuckles. Slow heat ran through his veins as she raised her face to his, gazing at him beneath dark, curling lashes.
    “I’ll see you tonight,” he murmured, releasing her as his mind conjured all sorts of things he’d rather be doing with her than letting her go.
    Without waiting for a response he strode out to the hall and the foyer beyond, collecting his hat and caped greatcoat. He had some things to take care of before this evening. And he didn’t need to see the butler’s expression at his old, out-of-fashion wardrobe to know what the most pressing of them was.
    When he’d arrived in town a few hours ago he’d had little thought but to collect Lady Anne and return to Yorkshire without delay. After seeing her, however, the idea of doing a little courting didn’t seem so repugnant, after all.

Chapter 2
    This Author is not one to overstate one’s own importance, but it is being said that This Author’s own column, dated one week prior, is directly responsible for the recent town arrival of none other than Maximilian Trent, Marquis of Halfurst. It seems the good marquis took exception to his betrothed’s snow angel escapades with Sir Royce Pemberley.
    And if that weren’t excitement enough, it was whispered that he is positively stalking Lady Anne. Consider, if you will, Dear Reader, what transpired Saturday evening at Drury Lane…
    L ADY W HISTLEDOWN ’ S S OCIETY P APERS , 31 J ANUARY 1814
    “Y ou refused him.”
    Anne continued pacing, ignoring her maid’s piteous sighs as Daisy tried to put the finishing touches to her hair. “You should have heard him, Mama. ‘Cease having any fun and accompany me to the middle of nowhere at once.’”
    “He did not say that.”
    “He might as well have.”
    Lady Daven, seated on the bed and watching Anne’s progress as she stalked back and forth, shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t refuse him. Your father and the old Marquis of Halfurst made—”
    “Then let Papa marry him! I never asked to be exiled to Yorkshire!”
    “Yesterday you were happy to be betrothed to Halfurst.”
    Yesterday she’d never thought he might actually appear. With a scowl Anne relented and sat, allowing Daisy to fasten the last few hairclips in place. “I don’t like him. Isn’t that enough?”
    “You only just met him. And surely you can have no complaints about his looks.”
    That had been the most disquieting part of the meeting. He was handsome—far more so than she’d ever imagined. “Yes, his face was pleasant enough, I suppose,” she hedged. “But did you see his wardrobe? Good heavens, it was positively ancient! And he was mean. How did he expect me to respond?”
    Her mother sighed. “Perhaps he was nervous at meeting you.”
    “I don’t think he was nervous about anything,” Anne muttered.
    “Whatever your initial misgivings, you will meet with him again, Anne. Short of our discovering some sort of mental imbalance on his part, the agreement stands. Your father’s honor rests on it.”
    “He offered to escort me to the theater tonight.” She frowned. “Actually, he practically ordered me to accompany him.”
    “Good. Your father and I shall await your