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Just Like Heaven (Smythe-Smith Quartet #1)(85)

Author:Julia Quinn

“Honoria Smythe-Smith,” Sarah said, positively grinning, “I am so proud of you.”

“I would ask why,” Honoria replied warily, “but I’m not sure I want to know the answer.”

“This is probably the most improper thing you’ve ever done.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, perhaps you forgot to tell me about the time you ran naked through Hyde Park?”

“Sarah!”

Sarah chuckled. “Everybody has read something they weren’t meant to at some point in their lives. I’m just glad you have finally chosen to join the rest of humanity.”

“I’m not so stiff and proper,” Honoria protested.

“Of course not. But I wouldn’t call you adventurous.”

“I wouldn’t call you adventurous either.”

“No.” Sarah’s shoulders drooped. “I’m not.”

They stood there for a moment, a little bit sad, a little bit reflective. “Well,” Honoria said, trying to inject a note of levity back into the air, “you’re not going to run naked through Hyde Park, are you?”

“Not without you,” Sarah said slyly.

Honoria laughed at that, then impulsively put her arm around her cousin’s shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. “I love you, you know that.”

“Of course I do,” Sarah replied.

Honoria waited.

“Oh, yes, and I love you, too,” Sarah said.

Honoria smiled, and for a moment all felt right with the world. Or if not right, then at least normal. She was in London, at a ball, standing next to her favorite cousin. Nothing could have been more ordinary. She tilted her head a bit to the side, gazing out over the crowd. The minuet really was a lovely dance to watch, so stately and graceful. And maybe it was Honoria’s imagination, but it seemed as if the ladies were dressed in similar colors—shimmering across the dance floor in blues, greens, and silvers.

“It almost looks like a music box,” she murmured.

“It does,” Sarah agreed, then spoiled the moment by saying, “I hate the minuet.”

“You do?”

“Yes,” she said. “I don’t know why.”

Honoria kept looking out at the dancers. How many times had they stood this way together, she and Sarah? Side by side, both staring off at the crowd as they carried on a conversation without ever once looking at each other. They didn’t really need to; they knew each other so well that facial expressions were not necessary to know what the other was feeling.

Marcus and Cecily finally came into view, and Honoria watched as they stepped forward and back. “Do you think Cecily Royle is setting her cap for Marcus?” she asked.

“Do you?” Sarah countered.

Honoria kept her eyes on Marcus’s feet. He was really quite graceful for such a large man. “I don’t know,” she murmured.

“Do you care?”

Honoria thought for a moment about how much of her feelings she was willing to share. “I believe I do,” she finally said.

“It won’t matter if she does,” Sarah replied. “He’s not interested in her.”

“I know,” Honoria said softly, “but I don’t think he’s interested in me, either.”

“Just you wait,” Sarah said, finally turning to look her in the eye. “Just you wait.”

An hour or so later, Honoria was standing by an empty platter at the dessert table, congratulating herself for having captured the last éclair, when Marcus came to claim his waltz.

“Did you get one?” she asked him.

“Get what?”

“An éclair. They were heavenly. Oh.” She tried not to smile. “I’m sorry. From your expression I can see that you did not.”

“I have been trying to get over here all evening,” he admitted.

“There might be more,” she said, in her best imitation of optimism.

He looked at her with a single raised brow.

“But probably not,” she said. “I’m terribly sorry. Perhaps we can ask Lady Bridgerton where she got them. Or”—she tried to look devious—“if her own chef made them, perhaps we can hire him away.”

He smiled. “Or we could dance.”

“Or we could dance,” she agreed happily. She placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her toward the center of the ballroom. They had danced before, even the waltz once or twice, but this felt different. Even before the music began, she felt as if she were gliding, moving effortlessly across the polished wooden floor. And when his hand came to rest at the small of her back, and she looked up into his eyes, something hot and liquid began to unravel within her.

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