He’d never brought a woman flowers before. It did make him wonder what the devil he’d done with his life up to now.

He’d thought about skipping the performance. Honoria had been acting so strangely at Lady Bridgerton’s birthday ball. She had clearly been angry with him about something. He had no idea what, but he wasn’t even sure that mattered. And she had seemed uncharacteristically distant when he had first come upon her after his return to London.

But then, when they’d danced . . .

It had been magic. He would have sworn she’d felt it, too. The rest of the world had simply fallen away. It had been just the two of them amidst a blur of color and sound, and she hadn’t stepped on his feet even once.

Which was truly a feat in and of itself.

But maybe he’d been imagining it. Or maybe it had simply been a one-sided emotion. Because when the music had stopped, she had been short, and curt, and even though she had said she did not feel well, she’d refused all his offers of assistance.

He would never understand women. He’d thought she might be the exception, but apparently not. And he’d spent the last three days trying to figure out why.

In the end, however, he’d realized he could not miss the musicale. It was, as Honoria had explained so eloquently, tradition. He had attended every one since he’d been of an age to be in London on his own, and if he did not attend after claiming it was the very reason he’d come back to London so quickly after his illness, Honoria would see it as a slap in the face.

He could not do that. It did not matter that she had been angry with him. It did not matter that he was angry with her, and he thought he had every right to be. She’d behaved in a most strange and hostile manner and had not given him any indication why.

She was his friend. Even if she never loved him, she would always be his friend. And he could no more hurt her deliberately than he could slice off his right hand.

He might have fallen in love with her only recently, but he had known her for fifteen years. Fifteen years to know what sort of heart beat within her. He was not going to revise his opinion of her because of a single, odd night.

He made his way to the music room, which was a hive of activity as the servants readied for the upcoming performance. He really just wanted to catch a glimpse of Honoria, perhaps offer a few words of encouragement before the concert.

Hell, he thought he needed encouragement. It was going to be painful to sit there and watch her put on the performance of her life just to please her family.