“Don’t,” Marcus said again, just to make it clear. He reached up and touched his jaw. Damn, it hurt. He looked over at Daniel, who was wincing as he flexed his fingers and inspected the bruises on his knuckles. “Welcome home, by the way.”

Daniel looked up, quirking a brow.

“Next time, tell us when you plan to arrive.”

Daniel looked as if he might reply but then just rolled his eyes.

“Your mother did not mention your name for three years,” Marcus said quietly.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you left. You left, and—”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You could have come back,” Marcus said dismissively. “You know you—”

“No,” Daniel interrupted. “I couldn’t. Ramsgate had someone following me on the Continent.”

Marcus was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right.” Daniel sighed, then let the back of his head rest against the wall. “She never answered my letters.”

Marcus looked up.

“My mother,” Daniel clarified. “I’m not surprised she never mentioned my name.”

“It was very difficult for Honoria,” Marcus said softly.

Daniel swallowed. “How long have you, er . . .”

“Just this spring.”

“What happened?”

Marcus felt himself smile. Well, with one side of his mouth. The other was beginning to swell up. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. It didn’t seem right to tell him about the mole hole, or the sprained ankle, or the infection on his leg, or the treacle tart. Those were just events. They weren’t what had happened in his heart.

“Do you love her?”

Marcus looked up. He nodded.

“Well, then.” Daniel gave a one-shouldered shrug.

It was all they needed to say. It was all they ever would say, Marcus realized. They were men, and that was what they did. But it was enough. He started to reach out, to pat Daniel on the leg or maybe the shoulder. But instead he gave him a friendly poke in the ribs with his elbow. “I’m glad you’re home,” he said.

Daniel was quiet for several seconds. “Me, too, Marcus. Me, too.”

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-three

After leaving Marcus and Daniel in the hall, Honoria slipped quietly into the rehearsal room. It was empty, as she’d expected, and she could see a strip of light spilling onto the floor where the door to the main room was ajar. Honoria checked her reflection one last time in a mirror. It was dark, so she couldn’t be sure, but she thought she looked presentable.

There were still quite a few guests milling about, enough so that Honoria was hopeful that she had not been missed, at least not by anyone outside her family. Daisy was holding court near the center of the room, explaining to anyone who would listen how her Ruggieri violin had been constructed. Lady Winstead was standing off to the side, looking terribly happy and content, and Iris was—