“Cordelia, you mean?” Lucie turned to see Jessamine hovering just beside her near the tall French doors that led out onto the stone balcony. Through them, she could see an electric streetlight in the distance, casting a strange halo on the glass. Jessamine, though, cast no reflection.

“She looks lovely,” Jessamine said. She gave a mysterious smile and vanished in the direction of the dessert table. Ghosts could not eat, but Jessamine still enjoyed looking at cakes.

Cordelia did look lovely. She came in with her mother and brother, Sona looking darkly regal in a green dress and black velvet roosari, Alastair—well, Lucie hardly noticed Alastair until he handed his hat to the maid and she realized he’d dyed his hair back to its natural black. It stood out strikingly against the brown of his skin.

And then there was Cordelia, arrayed in a tapering gown of deep blue silk and golden tulle, sleeves ruched and an opalescent brooch gathering together silk and gauze in a rosette between her breasts. Risa had dressed her hair with pearls winking among the dark red strands.

James took her hands and kissed her cheek. Both he and Cordelia looked aware of how many people were staring at them and probably whispering. Cordelia’s announcement at the Enclave meeting, though it had led to marriage, remained the shock of the season.

Annoyed on their behalf, Lucie began to make her way across the room toward her family. She was headed off by Thomas, carrying their little cousin Alexander. Aunt Cecily and Uncle Gabriel had clearly palmed Alexander off on Thomas while they devoted themselves to party preparation. It was rather sweet to see tall, muscular Thomas carefully carrying a child, though Lucie would never tell him so lest he get a swelled head.

“Luce,” Thomas said. “I must go greet Cordelia and Alastair. Could you take this awful brat?”

“Not a brat,” said Alexander, who was sucking a piece of licorice.

“I could,” Lucie acknowledged. “I don’t particularly want to, though.”

“Matthew,” demanded Alexander darkly. Matthew was his favorite pseudo-relative. “Oscar.”

“I don’t think Oscar was invited, old chap,” said Thomas. “What with him being a dog.”

“I think you’d better go look for Matthew,” said Lucie, as Alexander appeared to be about to slump into despair. Thomas gave her a wry salute and headed into the crowd, which had only grown. Lucie saw with some delight that Magnus Bane had appeared, dressed rather like a pirate, with ruby buttons on his waistcoat and ruby jewels in his ears. He definitely raised the tone of the party.

She was halfway across the room when Charles, wobbling a bit as if he’d had too much to drink, climbed up onto a low bench and tapped his family ring against his glass. “Excuse me!” he called, as the noise in the room began to quiet. “I’ve something I’d like to say.”