He thought about Honoria’s eyes again. They really were a bit more blue than lavender. Although they did have that purplish touch to them that made them so uncommon. It was true—no one had eyes quite like hers. Even Daniel’s weren’t precisely the same. His were darker. Not by much, but Marcus could tell the difference.

Honoria wouldn’t agree, though. When she was a child she had frequently gone on about how she and Daniel had the same eyes. Marcus had always thought she was looking for a bond between them, something that connected them in a special way.

She’d just wanted to be a part of things. That was all she’d ever wanted. No wonder she was so eager to be married and out of her silent, empty home. She needed noise. Laughter.

She needed not to be lonely. She needed never to be lonely.

Was she even in the room? It was rather quiet. He tried again to open his eyes. No luck.

He rolled onto his side, happy to be free of those damned bindings. He’d always been a side-sleeper.

Someone touched his shoulder, then pulled up his blankets to cover him. He tried to make a little murmuring sound to show his appreciation, and he guessed he must have been successful because he heard Honoria say, “Are you awake?”

He made the same sound again. It seemed to be the only one he could make work.

“Well, maybe a little bit awake,” she said. “That’s better than nothing, I suppose.”

He yawned.

“We’re still waiting for the doctor,” she said. “I’d hoped he would be here by now.” She was quiet for a few moments, then added in a bright voice, “Your leg looks quite improved. Or at least that’s what my mother says. I’ll be honest—it still looks dreadful to me. But definitely not as dreadful as it did this morning.”

This morning? Did that mean it was afternoon? He wished he could get his eyes to open.

“She went to her room. My mother, I mean. She said she needed respite from the heat.” Another pause, and then: “It is quite hot in here. We opened the window, but only a very little bit. Mrs. Wetherby was afraid you would catch a chill. I know, it’s hard to imagine you could get a chill when it’s this hot, but she assures me that it’s possible.

“I like to sleep in a cold room with a heavy blanket,” she added. “Not that I imagine you care.”

He did care. Well, not so much what she said. He just liked listening to her voice.