Just Like Heaven

“Because you left. You left, and—'

“I didn’t have a choice.'

“You could have come back,” Marcus said dismissively. “You know you—'

“No,” Daniel interrupted. “I couldn’t. Ramsgate had someone following me on the Continent.” Marcus was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.'

“It’s all right.” Daniel sighed, then let the back of his head rest against the wall. “She never answered my letters.'

Marcus looked up.

“My mother,” Daniel clarified. “I’m not surprised she never mentioned my name.'

“It was very difficult for Honoria,” Marcus said softly.

Daniel swallowed. “How long have you, er . . .'

“Just this spring.'

“What happened?” Marcus felt himself smile. Well, with one side of his mouth. The other was beginning to swell up. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. It didn’t seem right to tell him about the mole hole, or the sprained ankle, or the infection on his leg, or the treacle tart. Those were just events. They weren’t what had happened in his heart.

“Do you love her?'

Marcus looked up. He nodded.

“Well, then.” Daniel gave a one-shouldered shrug.

It was all they needed to say. It was all they ever would say, Marcus realized. They were men, and that was what they did. But it was enough. He started to reach out, to pat Daniel on the leg or maybe the shoulder. But instead he gave him a friendly poke in the ribs with his elbow. “I’m glad you’re home,” he said.

Daniel was quiet for several seconds. “Me, too, Marcus. Me, too.'

Chapter Twenty-three

After leaving Marcus and Daniel in the hall, Honoria slipped quietly into the rehearsal room. It was empty, as she’d expected, and she could see a strip of light spilling onto the floor where the door to the main room was ajar. Honoria checked her reflection one last time in a mirror. It was dark, so she couldn’t be sure, but she thought she looked presentable.

There were still quite a few guests milling about, enough so that Honoria was hopeful that she had not been missed, at least not by anyone outside her family. Daisy was holding court near the center of the room, explaining to anyone who would listen how her Ruggieri violin had been constructed. Lady Winstead was standing off to the side, looking terribly happy and content, and Iris was— “Where have you been?” Iris hissed.

Right next to her, apparently.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” Honoria said.

Iris snorted with disgust. “Oh, next you’re going to tell me you’ve caught whatever it is Sarah has.'

“Er, maybe.'

This was met with a sigh. “All I want to do is leave, but Mother won’t hear of it.'

“I’m sorry,” Honoria said. It was difficult to sound truly sympathetic when she herself was so brimming with joy, but she tried.

“The worst is Daisy,” Iris said malevolently. “She’s been prancing around like— I say, is that blood on your sleeve?'

“What?” Honoria twisted her neck to take a look. There was a penny-sized splotch on the puffy part of her sleeve. Heaven only knew which man it belonged to; they’d both been bleeding by the time she’d left. “Oh. Er, no, I don’t know what that is.” Iris frowned and looked closer. “I think it’s blood.'

“I can tell you for a fact that it’s not,” Honoria lied.

“Well, then what is—” “What did Daisy do?” Honoria cut in quickly. And when Iris just blinked at her, she said, “You said she was the worst.'

“Well, she is,” Iris declared fervently. “She needn’t do anything specific. She just—'

She was cut off by a loud trill of laughter. Coming from Daisy.

“I may cry,” Iris announced.

“No, Iris, you—” “Allow me my misery,” Iris cut in.

“Sorry,” Honoria murmured contritely.

“This was the single most humiliating day of my life.” Iris shook her head, her expression almost dazed. “I cannot do this again, Honoria. I tell you, I cannot. I don’t care if there’s no other cellist waiting to take my spot. I cannot do it.'

“If you marry . . .'

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” Iris nearly snapped. “Don’t think it did not cross my mind last year. I almost accepted Lord Venable just to get out of having to join the quartet.'

Honoria winced. Lord Venable was old enough to be their grandfather. And then some.

“Just please don’t disappear again,” Iris said, the choke in her voice almost breaking through into a sob. “I can’t manage when people come up to compliment me on the performance. I don’t know what to say.'

“Of course,” Honoria said, taking her cousin’s hand.

“Honoria, there you are!” It was her mother, hurrying over.

“Where have you been?'

Honoria cleared her throat. “I went upstairs to lie down for a few minutes. I was suddenly exhausted.'

“Yes, well, it was a long day,” her mother said with a nod.

“I don’t know where the time went. I must have fallen asleep,'

Honoria said apologetically. Who knew she was such a good liar?

First the blood and now this.

“It is of no consequence,” her mother said before turning to Iris.

“Have you seen Miss Wynter?'

Iris shook her head.

“Charlotte is ready to go home and can’t find her anywhere.'

“Perhaps she went to the retiring room?” Iris suggested.

Lady Winstead looked dubious. “She’s been gone quite a long time for that.” “Er, Mother,” Honoria said, thinking of Daniel back in the corridor, “if I might have a word with you.'

“It will have to wait,” Lady Winstead said, shaking her head.

“I’m beginning to grow worried about Miss Wynter.'

“Perhaps she needed a lie down as well,” Honoria suggested.

“I suppose. I do hope Charlotte thinks to give her an extra day off this week.” Lady Winstead gave a little nod, as if agreeing with herself. “I believe I will go find her right now and make that suggestion. It is the least we can do. Miss Wynter truly saved the day.'

Honoria and Iris watched her leave, then Iris said, “I suppose it depends upon your definition of the word ‘saved.’ ” Honoria let out a little giggle and looped her arm through her cousin’s. “Come with me,” she said. “We shall take a turn about the room and look happy and proud