“I know what she did for you, James,” said Grace quietly. “I know you weren’t with her that night. You were in Idris, burning down Blackthorn Manor. I know she told that lie to shield you. I wouldn’t have thought she had such cunning in her, really.”

“It is not cunning. It is generosity,” said James. “A waste of a year of her life on a marriage she cannot want, just to protect me.”

“A year?” said Grace. “Is that the arrangement between you?”

“I will not discuss this with you,” James said. His chest hurt as if it were being compressed. He could barely get enough air.

“You must hate me,” Grace said, “if all this is to protect you from the consequences of what I asked you to do.”

“I do not blame you, Grace. But we cannot be friends. It will make it harder than it already is.”

There was a pause. She was in shadow, but he had seen her in the ballroom, in her green dress with emeralds in her ears. He had recognized the earrings. They had been Charlotte’s. She must have given them to Charles as a gift for Grace.

“I am glad you will have Cordelia,” Grace said.

“I wish I could say the same to you about Charles,” said James. “Cordelia deserves better than this; I will do everything I can in this next year to make her happy. I hope Charles does the same for you.”

“I could be with you in a year,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “A long engagement with Charles, you divorce Cordelia—it could be done.”

James said nothing. The tightness in his chest had become pain. He felt as if he were being torn in two, brutally and literally.

“James?” Grace said.

He fought back the words: Yes, wait for me, I will wait for you. Grace. I remember the forest, the shadows, your ivory dress.

Grace.

He could taste blood in his mouth. He was gripping the railing so hard he thought his fingers might break.

A moment later James heard the soft click of the French door opening and closing. He held himself still for a long minute, and then another. When he turned at last, he was alone on the balcony. There was no sign of Grace.

Instead, through the glass, he saw Cordelia. She was dancing with Matthew. Her glorious hair was spilling free of its bandeau, defying all attempts to confine it. They were both laughing.

Expertly skirting the couples on the dance floor, Anna sighed: she wanted to be enjoying herself much more than she was. Though she had long ago given up believing in romantic love, she still enjoyed an engagement party, especially when she liked the people who were getting engaged, which admittedly didn’t happen all that often.