Free The Sum of All Kisses by Julia Quinn

through Sarah’s words, then rolled her eyes. Not very much, but Sarah knew her too well to miss the gesture. It was the closest her kind and gentle cousin ever came to a screaming fit.
    “I think you should give him a chance,” Honoria said. “You’ve never even had a proper conversation with him.”
    There had been nothing proper about it, Sarah thought darkly. They had nearly come to blows. And she certainly hadn’t known what to say to him. She felt ill every time she recalled their meeting at the Dunwoody engagement fête. She’d done nothing but spout clichés. She might have even stamped her foot. He probably thought her an utter imbecile, and the truth was, she rather thought she’d acted like one.
    Not that she cared what he thought of her. That would ascribe far too much importance to his opinion. But in that awful moment in the Dunwoody library—and in the few brief words they’d exchanged since—Hugh Prentice had reduced her to someone she didn’t much like.
    And that was unforgivable.
    “It’s not up to me to say who you will or will not get on with,” Honoria continued after it became clear that Sarah was not going to comment, “but I’m sure you can find the strength to endure Lord Hugh’s company for one day.”
    “Sarcasm becomes you,” Sarah said suspiciously. “When did that happen?”
    Honoria smiled. “I knew I could depend upon you.”
    “Indeed,” Sarah muttered.
    “He’s not so dreadful,” Honoria said, patting her on the arm. “I think he’s rather handsome, actually.”
    “It doesn’t matter if he’s handsome.”
    Honoria leapt on that. “So you think he is handsome.”
    “I think he’s quite strange,” Sarah shot back, “and if you are trying to play matchmaker . . .”
    “I’m not!” Honoria held up her arms in mock surrender. “I swear it. I was merely making an observation. I think he has very nice eyes.”
    “I’d like him better if he had a vestigial toe,” Sarah muttered. Maybe she should write a book.
    “A vestigial— what ?”
    “Yes, his eyes are perfectly nice,” Sarah said obediently. It was true, she supposed. He did have very nice eyes, green as grass, and piercingly intelligent. But nice eyes did not a future husband make. And no, she did not view every single man through the lens of eligibility—well, not very much, and certainly not him —but it was clear that despite her protestations, Honoria was casting her thoughts in that direction.
    “I will do this for you,” Sarah said, “because you know I would do anything for you. Which means I would throw myself in front of a moving carriage if it came to that.” She paused, giving Honoria time to absorb that before continuing with a grand sweep of her arm. “And if I would throw myself in front of a moving carriage, it stands to reason that I would also consent to an activity that does not require the taking of my own life.”
    Honoria looked at her blankly.
    “Such as sitting next to Lord Hugh Prentice at your wedding breakfast.”
    It took Honoria a moment to take that in. “How very . . . logical.”
    “And by the way, it’s two days I must suffer his company, not one.” She wrinkled her nose. “Just to be clear.”
    Honoria smiled graciously. “Then you shall entertain Lord Hugh this evening before supper?”
    “Entertain,” Sarah repeated sardonically. “Shall I dance? Because you know I’m not going to play the pianoforte.”
    Honoria laughed as she headed for the door. “Just be your usual charming self,” she said, poking her face back in the room for one last second. “He will love you.”
    “God forbid.”
    “He works in strange ways . . .”
    “Not that strange.”
    “Methinks the lady—”
    “Don’t say it,” Sarah cut in.
    Honoria’s brows rose. “Shakespeare certainly knew what he was talking about.”
    Sarah threw a pillow at her.
    But she missed. It was that kind of a day.
     
    Later that day
    C hatteris had arranged for target shooting