James had taken off his jacket, which had several burn holes in it, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up. They had all done what they could to clean up when they arrived at the tavern, but there was still soot on his collar, and in Matthew’s and Cordelia’s hair, and the kingfisher-blue dress was, Cordelia suspected, utterly ruined.

Matthew was turning a glass in his hand, looking thoughtfully at the pale amber contents.

“Matthew, you should really drink some water,” said Christopher. “Alcohol won’t help with the dehydration after you inhaled all that smoke.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow. Christopher seemed undeterred—Cordelia had noticed when Christopher first came in that he seemed a little different: less shy and owlish, more assured.

“Water is the devil’s brew,” said Matthew.

Cordelia glanced at James, but he only said, “That is why you are always dyspeptic, Math.” His expression was unreadable. The Mask had slipped briefly at Blackthorn Manor, she thought, when he had saved her life. It was back now.

She wondered if he was thinking of Grace. The pain in her chest had gone from a sharp pain to a dull throb that ached with every heartbeat.

Footsteps sounded on the steps and Lucie burst in, nearly staggering under the weight of a pile of clothes: two suits for James and Matthew, and a plain cotton dress for Cordelia.

She was greeted with a round of applause. When Cordelia, James, and Matthew had first stumbled out of the greenhouse in Chiswick, they had realized that not a one of them could return home in their singed state. Even Will would be apoplectic, James had to admit. “We have got to start keeping spare clothes at the Devil for such occurrences as this,” James had said.

“There had better not be any more occurrences such as this,” Matthew had glowered.

They had flagged down a hansom cab to Fleet Street, where they had been the recipients of many curious stares from patrons of the Devil Tavern. Matthew and Cordelia had taken refuge in the upstairs room, while James had tracked down a few of the Irregulars and sent them to Thomas and Christopher with messages saying to come immediately and bring new outfits for all three. Thomas and Christopher, unfortunately, had been unable to lay hands on anything: they had come running, but without any extra clothes. An Irregular had been dispatched immediately to Lucie, which, Cordelia pointed out, was what should have been undertaken in the first place. Lucie knew how to get things done.

Lucie dumped the clothes into her brother’s lap and glared at him. “I cannot believe,” she said, “that you burned down Blackthorn Manor without me!”

“But you weren’t around, Luce,” James protested. “You went to see Uncle Jem.”