uckily 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.

“You’re never going to get it right,” she pronounced. “I must say, between this and your boots, I am revising my opinion on the impracticalities of couture, male versus female.”

“Really?”

Her gaze dropped to his boots, polished to a perfect shine. “No one has ever had to take a knife to my footwear.”

“I wear nothing that buttons up the back,” he countered.

“True, but I may choose a dress that buttons in the front, whereas you cannot go out and about without a neckcloth.”

“I can at Fensmore,” he muttered, his fingers still trying to work with the increasingly wrinkled cloth.

“But we’re not at Fensmore,” she reminded him with a grin.

“I surrender,” he said, yanking the cravat off entirely. He stuffed it into his pocket, shaking his head as he said, “It’s for the best, really. Even if I did get this blasted thing tied right, it would make no sense for me to return to the musicale. I’m sure everyone thinks I’ve gone home.” He paused, then added, “If they’ve thought of me at all.”

As there were several unmarried young ladies in attendance, and perhaps more to the point, several mothers of unmarried young ladies, Honoria was fairly certain that his absence had been noted.

But still, his plan was a good one, and together they sneaked down the back stairs. Honoria’s plan was to cut through several rooms to the rehearsal space near the musicale, while Marcus was going to slip outside through the servants’ entrance. At the spot where they needed to part ways, Marcus looked down at her, gently touching her cheek with his hand.

She smiled. She had far too much happiness bursting within her to keep it inside.

“I will call upon you tomorrow,” he said.

She nodded. And then, because she could not stop herself, she whispered, “Kiss me good-bye?”

He needed no further urging, and he leaned down, taking her face in his hands as he captured her mouth in a passionate kiss. Honoria felt herself burning, then melting, then quite positively evaporating. She almost laughed with joy, and she rose to her tiptoes, trying to get closer and then—

He was gone.

There was a terrible cry, and Marcus went flying across the small space of the hallway, slamming against the opposite wall.

Honoria let out a shriek and ran forward. An intruder had got into the house, and he had Marcus by the throat. She didn’t even have time to be terrified. Without thinking, she hurled herself at the intruder, jumping onto his back. “Let go,” she ground out, trying to grab his arm to stop him from punching Marcus again.

“For the love of God,” the man snapped. “Get off me, Bug.”

Bug?

She went slack. “Daniel?”

“Who the bloody hell else would it be?”

Honoria could think of quite a few answers to that, considering that he’d been out of the country for over three years. Never mind that he’d written that he planned to return; he hadn’t seen fit to tell anyone when.

“Daniel,” she said again, and she jumped off his back. She took a step away and just stared at him. He looked older, which of course he was, but he looked older in more than just years. Maybe more tired, maybe more world-weary. Or maybe it was just his recent travels. He was still dusty and windblown; anyone would look tired and world-weary after the long journey from Italy to London.

“You’re back,” she said stupidly.

“Indeed,” he said sharply, “and what the devil is going on?”

“I—”

Daniel put up a hand. “Stay out of it, Honoria.”

Hadn’t he just asked her a question?

“Dear God, Daniel,” Marcus said, coming to his feet. He was wobbling a bit, rubbing the back of his head where it had connected with the wall. “Next time, consider telling us—”

“You bastard,” Daniel hissed, and he slammed his fist into Marcus’s cheek.

“Daniel!” Honoria shrieked. She jumped again onto his back, or rather she tried to; he shook her off like—

Well, like a bug, annoying as that was.

She tried to scramble back to her feet in time to stop him again, but Daniel had always been agile, and right now he was furious. Before she could even get herself upright, he’d punched Marcus again.

“I don’t want to fight you, Daniel,” Marcus said, wiping blood from his chin with his sleeve.

“What the hell were you doing with my sister?”

“You’re—”

Euf!

“—insane,” Marcus grunted, his voice seemingly swallowed up by the force of Daniel’s fist in his belly.

“I asked you to watch over her,” Daniel ground out, punctuating each word with a vicious blow to Marcus’s midsection. “To watch. Over. Her.”

“Daniel, stop!” Honoria pleaded.

“She’s my sister,” Daniel spat.

“I know,” Marcus growled back. He appeared to be regaining his equilibrium, and he drew back his arm and slammed his fist into Daniel’s jaw. “And you—”

But Daniel wasn’t interested in talking, at least not unless Marcus was answering his very specific questions. Before Marcus could finish his sentence, Daniel got him by the neck and pinned him to the wall. “What,” he hissed again, “were you doing to my sister?”

“You’re going to kill him,” Honoria shrieked. She rushed forward again, trying to pull Daniel back, but Marcus must have been able to fend for himself, because his knee shot up, catching Daniel squarely in the groin. Daniel let out a sound that was positively inhuman, and he went down, taking Honoria with him.

“The two of you are mad,” she gasped, trying to untangle her legs from her brother’s. But they weren’t listening; she might as well have been speaking to the floorboards.

Marcus touched his hands to his throat, wincing as he rubbed where Daniel had choked him. “For the love of God, Daniel,” he said. “You nearly killed me.”

Daniel glared up at him from the floor even as he panted through his pain. “What were you doing to Honoria?”

“It doesn’t—” She tried to intercede, tried to say it didn’t matter, but Marcus cut her off with “What did you see?”

“It doesn’t matter what I saw,” Daniel snapped. “I asked you to watch over her, not to take advan—”

“You asked me,” Marcus cut in angrily. “Yes, let’s think about that. You asked me to watch over your young, unmarried sister. Me! What the hell do I know about bringing out a young lady?”

“Apparently more than you should,” Daniel spat. “You had your tongue down her—”

Honoria’s mouth fell open, and she smacked her brother on the side of his head. She would have hit him again, if only because Daniel had given her a shove in return, but before she could make a move, Marcus came hurtling through the air.

“Hhhhhrrrrrrcccchhhh!” A sound emerged from his mouth that was completely unintelligible. It was the sound of rage, pure and simple, and Honoria just managed to scoot out of the way before Marcus threw himself on the man he’d always considered his one true friend.

“For God’s sake, Marcus,” Daniel gasped between blows. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Don’t you ever talk about her like that,” Marcus seethed.

Daniel slid out from under him and staggered to his feet. “Like what? I was insulting you.”

“Really?” Marcus drawled, also rising. “Well, then this”—his fist connected with the side of Daniel’s face—“is for the insult. And that”—other fist, other side of the face—“is for abandoning her.”

It was very sweet of him, but Honoria wasn’t sure that was quite accurate. “Well, he didn’t really—”

Daniel clutched at his mouth, which was now dripping blood. “I was going to hang!”

Marcus shoved Daniel’s shoulder, then shoved him again. “You could have come back long ago.”

Honoria gasped. Was that true?

“No,” Daniel responded, shoving Marcus right back. “I couldn’t. Or did you not realize that Ramsgate is absolutely insane?”

Marcus crossed his arms. “You did not write to her for over a year.”

“That’s not true.”

“It’s true,” Honoria said, not that anyone was listening to her. And that was when she realized it. They weren’t going to listen to her. Not in this fight, at least.

“Your mother was wrecked,” Marcus said.

“There was nothing I could do about that,” Daniel returned.

“I’m leaving,” Honoria said.

“You could have written to her.”

“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.

“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.”