Mary nearly fell off her skates, partly because she was laughing at Monmouth's jest a little harder than was really warranted, and partly because she was a miserable skater (in the corner of Eliza's eye, earlier, she'd looked like a windmill – flailing without moving). It had been obvious from the first moment Eliza had seen her that she was infatuated with the Duke of Monmouth. Which to some degree was embarrassing. But Eliza had to admit that she'd chosen a likely young man to fall in love with.