“I may not like performing in musicales, but I love rehearsing with the three ofyou.”Her three cousins stared at her, momentarily nonplussed.“Don’t you realize how lucky we are?” Honoria said. And then,when no one leapt to agree, she added, “To have each other?”“Couldn’t we have each other over a game of cards?” Iris suggested.”

Julia Quinn

Julia Quinn - “I may not like performing in musicales...” 1

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“Marcus’s appearance theday before had been discussed, dissected, analyzed, and—by LadySarah Pleinsworth, Honoria’s cousin and one of her closest friends—rendered into poetry.“He came in the rain,” Sarah intoned. “The day had been plain.”Honoria nearly spit out her tea.“It was muddy, this lane—”Cecily Royle smiled slyly over her teacup. “Have youconsidered free verse?”“—our heroine, in pain—”“I was cold,” Honoria put in.Iris Smythe-Smith, another of Honoria’s cousins, looked up withher signature dry expression. “I am in pain,” she stated.“Specifically, my ears.”Honoria shot Iris a look that said clearly, Be polite. Iris justshrugged.“—her distress, she did feign—”“Not true!” Honoria protested.“You can’t interfere with genius,” Iris said sweetly.“—her schemes, not in vain—”“This poem is devolving rapidly,” Honoria stated.“I am beginning to enjoy it,” said Cecily.“—her existence, a bane . . .”Honoria let out a snort. “Oh, come now!”“I think she’s doing an admirable job,” Iris said, “given thelimitations of the rhyming structure.” She looked over at Sarah, whohad gone quite suddenly silent. Iris cocked her head to the side; sodid Honoria and Sarah.Sarah’s lips were parted, and her left hand was still outstretchedwith great drama, but she appeared to have run out of words.“Cane?” Cecily suggested. “Main?”“Insane?” offered Iris.“Any moment now,” Honoria said tartly, “if I’m trapped heremuch longer with you lot.”

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“And do you agree that the mornings when we appreciated each other might have been better than the mornings we loved each other?”

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“Iris was interrupted by a resounding crash. Or not exactly acrash. More like a splintering sound. With a few pops. And twangs.“What was that?” Iris asked.“I don’t know.” Honoria craned her neck. “It sounded like—”“Oh, Honoria!” they heard Daisy shriek. “Your violin!”“What?” Honoria walked slowly toward the commotion, notquite able to put two and two together.“Oh, my heavens,” Iris said abruptly, her hand coming to hermouth. She lay a restraining hand on Honoria, as if to say—It’sbetter if you don’t look.“What is going on? I—” Honoria’s jaw went slack.“Lady Honoria!” Lady Danbury barked. “So sorry about yourviolin.”Honoria only blinked, staring down at the mangled remains ofher instrument. “What? How . . . ?”Lady Danbury shook her head with what Honoria suspectedwas exaggerated regret. “I have no idea. The cane, you know. Imust have knocked it off the table.”Honoria felt her mouth opening and closing, but no sound wasemerging. Her violin didn’t look as if it had been knocked off atable. Honestly, Honoria was at a loss as to how it could have gotinto such a state. It was absolutely wrecked. Every string hadsnapped, pieces of wood were completely detached, and the chinrest was nowhere to be seen.Clearly, it had been trampled by an elephant.”

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