Free Without a Summer by Mary Robinette Kowal Page A

allowed close scrutiny, they would see the broad strokes and coarse stitches that went into creating so fast a glamour.
    As they reappeared, the audience granted them another polite burst of applause, then went back to mingling, talking about what they had seen and what the weather was likely to be on the morrow.
    Vincent wiped the sweat from his brow. “I fear that the time spent resting at your parents’ house, for all that it was comfortable, has left me without the endurance I once had.”
    “I know.” Jane was all too aware of her breath as each exhalation hung steaming in the air. “A week back at work is not enough, it seems.”
    “We should have practised more at your…” Vincent raised his head, looking out at the lake. “Is that Mr. O’Brien with your sister?”
    So involved had she been in creating the tableau vivant that Jane had not seen Melody depart from the Prince Regent’s set, but now Melody hung on the arm of a young gentleman, not far from the edge of the lake. Both wore skates, and, though Mr. O’Brien seemed uncertain on the ice, he supported Melody as they skated. His red hair flamed like a torch in the light. “It is.”
    Jane could not feel sanguine about seeing Mr. O’Brien in such intimacy with her sister. It was impossible to disregard the way that his interest had faded upon understanding that Melody was the sister of artisans. Entirely separate from his heritage, she wondered if his interest were sincere. Had the Prince Regent not so recently condescended to notice Melody, Jane would feel fewer doubts about the attention Mr. O’Brien paid her now.
    “Muse … what is wrong?”
    “Nothing. Why?”
    Vincent tilted his head and regarded her with incredulity. “Perhaps I am misled, then. I thought I heard you snort.”
    “That would not be ladylike.”
    “Hm.” Vincent offered his arm. “And yet…”
    Sighing, Jane walked with him along the edge of the pond. “If you will press me, then yes. I am disturbed that Mr. O’Brien is attending Melody.”
    “And?”
    “He did not consider her so worth his while before the Prince Regent noticed her. I worry that he thinks to use her for her perceived consequence.”
    Vincent peered past her to where the pair glided laughing across the ice. “This seems unlikely.”
    “No? Did you not see the way he cut short his visit when he realized who her relations were?”
    “I thought he was simply being polite. We had finished work and were ready to depart. He, very properly, did not detain us.”
    Jane opened her mouth to object, breath steaming out, and closed it again to think. When had Mr. O’Brien made his excuses? “Perhaps…”
    A gust of wind caught laughter from the pond and carried it to them. Melody held Mr. O’Brien’s hands as he guided her across the ice. Even at a distance, the delight on her countenance was plain.
    “She is happy. Is that not why we brought her to London? Where is the—” Vincent went rigid beside Jane, coming to a halt in the path. He turned and almost let go of her hand. Catching himself, Vincent made a studied effort to regain his composure.
    Alarmed, Jane put a hand on his chest. “Vincent?”
    He caught her hand and bent down to whisper in her ear. “My father. With his back to us.”
    His father. Here? On the path ahead of them stood a tall well-built older gentleman with an elegantly cut coat. His hair had once been a dark brown, but was now brushed with silver where it fell over his collar. He rested one hand on a walking stick in a posture of casual disregard.
    Facing him was an older gentleman with hair that matched the snow. His cheeks were reddened, though it was difficult to say if it was from the cold or anger. “Sir. I may promise you that the extreme cold of the season is in no way caused by coldmongers. You may have my assurance on that.”
    “Of a certainty, Lord Eldon. Your assurance is worthy of much consideration. I can think of no reason why you should have any partiality