That had been three days earlier. Three days. Without a word.

“She should have been here at least twenty minutes ago,” Iris grumbled.

To which Honoria muttered, “He should have been here two days ago.”

Iris turned sharply. “What did you say?”

“Perhaps there was traffic?” Honoria asked, making a quick recovery.

“She lives only half a mile away.”

Honoria gave her a distracted nod. She looked down at the notes she’d made on page two of her score and realized she’d written Marcus’s name. Twice. No, three times. There was a little M.H. in curlicue script hiding next to a dotted half note. Good Lord. She was pathetic.

“Honoria! Honoria! Are you even listening to me?”

Iris again. Honoria tried not to groan. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon,” she said placatingly.

“Are you?” Iris demanded. “Because I’m not. I knew she was going to do this to me.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t you understand? She’s not coming.”

Honoria finally looked up. “Oh, don’t be silly. Sarah would never do that.”

“Really?” Iris gave her a look of utter disbelief. And panic. “Really?”

Honoria stared at her for a long moment, and then: “Oh, dear God.”

“I told you you shouldn’t have chosen Quartet no. 1. Sarah’s actually not that bad on the pianoforte, but the piece is far too difficult.”

“It’s difficult for us, as well,” Honoria said weakly. She was beginning to feel sick.

“Not as difficult as on the piano. And besides, it really doesn’t matter how difficult the violin parts are, because—” Iris cut herself off. She swallowed, and her cheeks turned pink.

“You won’t hurt my feelings,” Honoria told her. “I know I’m dreadful. And I know Daisy is even worse. We’d do an equally bad job with any piece of music.”

“I can’t believe her,” Iris said, starting to pace frantically about the room. “I can’t believe she would do this.”

“We don’t know that she isn’t going to play,” Honoria said.

Iris spun around. “Don’t we?”

Honoria swallowed uncomfortably. Iris was right. Sarah had never been twenty—no, now it was twenty-five—minutes late for a rehearsal.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t chosen such a difficult piece,” Iris accused.

Honoria stomped to her feet. “Do not try to lay the blame on me! I’m not the one who spent the last week complaining about— Oh, never mind. I’m here, and she’s not, and I don’t see how that is my fault.”

“No, no, of course,” Iris said, shaking her head. “It’s just— Oh!” She let out a loud cry of angry frustration. “I can’t believe she would do this to me.”

“To us,” Honoria reminded her quietly.

“Yes, but I’m the one who didn’t want to perform. You and Daisy didn’t care.”