“It’s Honoria Holroyd now,” Honoria said pertly, “and it’s true. The only thing worse than a man who makes a woman cry is a man who makes a woman cry and then doesn’t feel guilty about it.”

Sarah looked at her with a new sort of respect. “Married life agrees with you.”

Honoria’s smile was a touch smug. “It does, doesn’t it?”

Sarah scooted herself to the edge of the bed and slid off. Her legs were stiff, and she stretched each one in turn, bending and straightening at the knee. “He already knows he made me cry.”

“Good.”

Sarah leaned against the side of the bed and looked down at her hands. Her fingers were swollen. How did that happen? Who got sausage fingers from crying?

“Is something wrong?” Honoria asked.

Sarah gave her a rueful look. “I believe I would rather Lord Hugh think I’m the sort of woman who looks gorgeous while she cries, eyes all glistening and such.”

“As opposed to red-rimmed and puffy?”

“Is that your way of telling me I look a mess?”

“You’ll want to redo your hair,” Honoria said, ever the epitome of tact.

Sarah nodded. “Do you know where Harriet is? We’re sharing a room, and I don’t want her seeing me like this.”

“She would never judge,” Honoria assured her.

“I know. But I’m not up to her questions. And you know she’ll have questions.”

Honoria bit back a grin. She knew Harriet. “I’ll tell you what,” she said, “I will make sure that Harriet is distracted, and you can go to your room to . . .” She fluttered her hands near her face, the universal signal for fixing one’s appearance.

Sarah gave a nod. “Thank you. And Honoria . . .” Sarah waited until her cousin had turned back around to face her. “I love you.”

Honoria gave a wobbly smile. “I love you, too, Sarah.” She brushed a nonexistent tear from her eye, then asked, “Would you like me to send word to Lord Hugh, asking him to meet with you in thirty minutes?”

“Perhaps an hour?” Sarah was brave, but not that brave. She needed more time to bolster her confidence.

“In the conservatory?” Honoria suggested, walking toward the door. “You’ll have privacy. I don’t think anyone’s used the room all week. I imagine they’re all afraid they might stumble upon us practicing for a musicale.”

Sarah smiled despite herself. “All right. The conservatory in an hour. I shall—”

She was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door.

“That’s odd,” Honoria said. “Daniel knows we—” She shrugged, not bothering to finish her statement. “Enter!”

The door opened, and one of the footmen stepped in. “My lady,” he said to Honoria, blinking with surprise. “I was looking for his lordship.”

“He very kindly allowed us the use of his room,” Honoria said. “Is there a problem?”