Once the dances had been sorted out, they stood there again, a silent little quartet (all quartets should be so silent, Marcus thought), until Honoria’s cousin cleared her throat and said, “Actually, I think the dancing is beginning right now.” Which meant that it was time for the minuet.
Miss Royle looked over at him and beamed. Belatedly he remembered that her mother had a mind to pair the two of them up.
Honoria looked over at him as if to say—Be very afraid.
And all he could think was—Damn it, I never got one of those éclairs.
“He likes you,” Sarah said, the moment Marcus and Cecily headed off for their minuet.
“What?” Honoria asked. She had to blink. Her eyes had become unfocused from staring at Marcus’s back as he’d walked away.
“He likes you,” Sarah said.
“What are you talking about, of course he does. We have been friends forever.” Well, that was not quite true. They had known each other forever. They had become friends—true friends—quite recently.
“No, he likes you,” Sarah said, with great exaggeration.
“What?” Honoria said again, because clearly she’d been reduced to idiocy. “Oh. No. No, of course not."
But still, her heart leapt.
Sarah shook her head slowly, as if coming to a realization even as she spoke. “Cecily told me she suspected it, back when the two of you went to check on him at Fensmore after he was caught out in the rain, but I thought she was imagining things."
“You should pay attention to your first inclinations,” Honoria said briskly.
Sarah scoffed at that. “Didn’t you see the way he was staring at you?"
Honoria, practically begging to be contradicted, said, “He wasn’t staring at me."
“Oh, yes he was,” Sarah countered. “Oh, and by the way, in case you were worried, I am not interested in him myself."
Honoria could only blink.
“Back at the Royles’,” Sarah reminded her, “when I was pondering the possibility that he might fall rather quickly in love with me?"
“Oh, right,” Honoria recalled, trying not to notice how her stomach turned to acid at the thought of Marcus falling in love with someone else. She cleared her throat. “I’d forgotten."
Sarah shrugged. “It was a desperate hope.” She looked out over the crowd, murmuring, “I wonder if there are any gentlemen here who might be willing to marry me before Wednesday.” “Sarah!"
“I’m joking. Good heavens, you should know that.” And then she said, “He’s looking at you again."
“What?” Honoria actually jumped in surprise. “No, he can’t be.
He’s dancing with Cecily.” “He’s dancing with Cecily and looking at you,” Sarah replied, sounding rather satisfied with her assessment.
Honoria would have liked to have thought that that meant he cared, but after having read Daniel’s letter, she knew better. “It’s not because he cares for me,” she said, shaking her head.
“Really?” Sarah looked as if she might cross her arms. “Then what, pray tell, is it?"
Honoria swallowed, then looked furtively about. “Can you keep a secret?"
“Of course."
“Daniel asked him to ‘watch over me’ while he is gone."
Sarah was unimpressed. “Why is that a secret?” “It’s not, I suppose. Well, yes, it is. Because no one told me about it."
“Then how do you know?"
Honoria felt her cheeks grow warm. “I might have read something I wasn’t meant to,” she muttered.
Sarah’s eyes grew wide. “Really?” she said, leaning in. “That is so unlike you."
“It was a moment of weakness."
“One you now regret?” Honoria thought about that for a moment. “No,” she admitted.
“Honoria Smythe-Smith,” Sarah said, positively grinning, “I am so proud of you."
“I would ask why,” Honoria replied warily, “but I’m not sure I want to know the answer."
“This is probably the most improper thing you’ve ever done."
“That’s not true."
“Oh, perhaps you forgot to tell me about the time you ran naked through Hyde Park?"
“Sarah!"
Sarah chuckled. “Everybody has read something they weren’t meant to at some point in their lives. I’m just glad you have finally chosen to join the rest of humanity."
“I’m not so stiff and proper,” Honoria protested.
“Of course not. But I wouldn’t call you adventurous."
“I wouldn’t call you adventurous either.” “No.” Sarah’s shoulders drooped. “I’m not."
They stood there for a moment, a little bit sad, a little bit reflective. “Well,” Honoria said, trying to inject a note of levity back into the air, “you’re not going to run naked through Hyde Park, are you?"
“Not without you,” Sarah said slyly.
Honoria laughed at that, then impulsively put her arm around her cousin’s shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. “I love you, you know that.” “Of course I do,” Sarah replied.
Honoria waited.
“Oh, yes, and I love you, too,” Sarah said.
Honoria smiled, and for a moment all felt right with the world.
Or if not right, then at least normal. She was in London, at a ball, standing next to her favorite cousin. Nothing could have been more ordinary. She tilted her head a bit to the side, gazing out over the crowd. The minuet really was a lovely dance to watch, so stately and graceful. And maybe it was Honoria’s imagination, but it seemed as if the ladies were dressed in similar colors—shimmering across the dance floor in blues, greens, and silvers.
“It almost looks like a music box,” she murmured.
“It does,” Sarah agreed, then spoiled the moment by saying, “I hate the minuet."
“You do?"
“Yes,” she said. “I don’t know why.” Honoria kept looking out at the dancers. How many times had they stood this way together, she and Sarah? Side by side, both staring off at the crowd as they carried on a conversation without ever once looking at each other. They didn’t really need to; they knew each other so well that facial expressions were not necessary to know what the other was feeling.
Marcus and Cecily finally came into view, and Honoria watched as they stepped forward and back. “Do you think Cecily Royle is setting her cap for Marcus?” she asked.
“Do you?” Sarah countered.
Honoria kept her eyes on Marcus’s feet. He was really quite graceful for such a large man. “I don’t know,” she murmured.
“Do you care?"
Honoria thought for a moment about how much of her feelings she was willing to share. “I believe I do,” she finally said.
“It won’t matter if she does,” Sarah replied. “He’s not interested in her."
“I know,” Honoria said softly, “but I don’t think he’s interested in me, either."
“Just you wait,” Sarah said, finally turning to look her in the eye.
“Just you wait.”
An hour or so later, Honoria was standing by an empty platter at the dessert table, congratulating herself for having captured the last йclair, when Marcus came to claim his waltz.
“Did you get one?” she asked him.
“Get what?” “An йclair. They were heavenly. Oh.” She tried not to smile.
“I’m sorry. From your expression I can see that you did not.” “I have been trying to get over here all evening,” he admitted.
“There might be more,” she said, in her best imitation of optimism.
He looked at her with a single raised brow.
“But probably not,” she said. “I’m terribly sorry. Perhaps we can ask Lady Bridgerton where she got them. Or”—she tried to look devious—“if her own chef made them, perhaps we can hire him away."