Of course, she thought with a gleam in her eye, he had not been the least bit proper this evening. So maybe . . .

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she lied. “Why do you ask?”

He shifted position so that he could lean on his elbow and look down upon her. “You have a terrifying look on your face.”

“Terrifying?”

“Devious,” he amended.

“I’m not sure which I prefer.”

He chuckled, a low, hearty rumble that echoed from his body to hers. Then his face sobered. “We will have to be getting back.”

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “We will be missed.”

“I won’t, but you will.”

“I can always tell my mother that I took ill. I’ll say I caught whatever it was that afflicted Sarah. Which is to say, nothing, but nobody knows that but Sarah.” She pressed her mouth together in a peevish line. “And me. And Iris. And probably Miss Wynter, too. Still.”

He laughed again, then leaned down and kissed her lightly on the nose. “If I could, I would stay here forever.”

She smiled as the warmth of his words slid through her like a kiss. “I was just thinking that this is just like heaven.”

He was silent for a moment, and then, so softly she wasn’t sure she heard him correctly, he whispered, “Heaven couldn’t possibly compare.”

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-two

Luckily for Honoria, her hair had not been dressed in an elaborate style. What with the extra rehearsals that afternoon, there hadn’t been time for it. So it was not difficult for her to replicate the coiffure.

Marcus’s cravat was another story. No matter what they did, they could not restore its crisp, intricate knot.

“You will never be able to let your valet go,” Honoria told him after her third attempt at it. “In fact, you might need to increase his wages.”

“I already told Lady Danbury he stabbed me,” Marcus murmured.

Honoria covered her mouth. “I am trying not to smile,” she said, “because it’s not funny.”

“And yet it is.”

She held out as long as she could. “It is.”

He grinned down at her, and he looked so happy, so carefree. It made Honoria’s heart sing. How strange and yet how splendid that her happiness could be so dependent on the happiness of another.

“Let me try,” he said, and he took the ends and positioned himself in front of her mirror.

She watched him for about two seconds before declaring, “You’re going to have to go home.”

His eyes did not leave the reflection of his neckcloth in the mirror. “I haven’t even got past the first knot.”

“And you’re not going to.”

He gave her a supercilious look, brow quirked and all.