“My mother? I did! She never wrote back.”

“I’m leaving,” Honoria repeated, but they were now almost nose to nose, hissing epithets and heaven knew what else. She shrugged. At least they weren’t trying to kill each other any longer. All would be well. They had brawled before and likely would again, and she had to admit that a little piece—oh, very well, a bigger than little piece—of her had been thrilled that they had come to blows over her. Not so much her brother, but Marcus . . .

She sighed, remembering the fierce expression on his face when he had defended her. He loved her. He hadn’t said it yet, but he did, and he would. He and Daniel would sort out whatever they needed to sort out, and this love story—her love story, she thought dreamily—would have a blissfully happy ending. They would marry, and have scads of babies who would grow up to become the happy, teasing family she’d once had. The happy, teasing family Marcus had always deserved. And there would be treacle tart at least once a week.

It would be grand.

She shot one last glance at the men, who were shoving each other’s shoulders, although thankfully without quite so much force as before. She might as well get back to the musicale. Someone had to tell their mother that Daniel was back.

“Where’d Honoria go?” Daniel asked a few minutes later.

They were sitting side by side on the floor, leaning against the wall. Marcus’s legs were bent; Daniel’s stretched out long. At some point their poking and shoving had petered out, and in silent agreement they’d slumped down the wall, wincing with pain as their minds finally caught up with their bodies and realized what they’d done to each other.

Marcus lifted his head and looked around. “Back to the party, I imagine.” He really hoped that Daniel wasn’t planning to turn belligerent again, because he just wasn’t sure he had the energy to launch himself at him again.

“You look like hell,” Daniel said.

Marcus shrugged. “You look worse.” At least he hoped so.

“You were kissing her,” Daniel said.

Marcus shot him an annoyed glare. “And?”

“And what are you going to do about it?”

“I was going to ask you for her hand before you punched me in the gut.”

Daniel blinked. “Oh.”

“What the hell did you think I was going to do? Seduce her and toss her to the wolves?”

Daniel went instantly tense, and his eyes flashed with fury. “Did you sedu—”

“Don’t,” Marcus bit off, holding up a hand. “Do not ask that question.”

Daniel held his tongue, but he eyed Marcus with suspicion.