Her reverie was broken by a sudden shout. The skinny footman had leaped to his feet, balancing on the seat of the carriage. He looked about, wild-eyed. “Demon!” he shouted hoarsely. “Demon!”

Cordelia stared. Something that looked like a spinning wheel covered in wet red mouths shot out from under the carriage and rolled about in a circle. She reached back for Cortana—and flinched, her palm stinging.

Had she cut herself on it, somehow? That couldn’t be possible.

James laid a hand on Cordelia’s shoulder. “It’s all right,” he said. “There’s no need.”

Will was looking at Tessa, his blue eyes wide. “Can I?”

Tessa smiled indulgently, as if Will had asked for a second helping of cake. “Oh, go ahead.”

Will made a whooping sound. As Cordelia stared in puzzlement, he leaped down the stairs and raced off, chasing the wheel-demon. James and Tessa were both smiling. “Should we help him?” Cordelia asked, utterly bewildered.

James grinned. “No. That demon and my father are old friends. Or rather, old enemies, but it amounts to the same thing. It likes to chase him around after parties.”

“That is very peculiar,” said Cordelia. “I see that I have married into a very peculiar family.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know that already,” James said.

Cordelia laughed. It was all so ridiculous, and yet so very much the way James’s family always was. She felt as if things were almost normal again by the time their carriage came around and they clambered into it. As they rolled off into the night, they passed Will, brandishing a seraph blade as he happily chased the wheel-demon through the Wentworths’ rose garden.

“You must be so terribly disappointed to miss the party tonight,” Jessamine said as she drifted past the bookcases in the drawing room. “You must be absolutely crushed.”

Lucie had been in the middle of reading Kitty Costello, or trying to, when Jessamine had appeared, looking for company. Normally Lucie didn’t mind Jessamine, but her bone-jarring headache had only just faded, and she simply felt weary.

With a sigh, she folded down a page to mark her place and closed the book. “Honestly, I’m not sorry to miss the party.”

“Even though that Italian girl got to go?” Jessamine inquired.

“Filomena?” Lucie felt she hardly knew Filomena; the older girl, though nominally living at the Institute, was always rushing around London, going to museums and exhibitions. Lucie hardly saw her. “No, I’m glad she’ll be having some fun. It’s just that I don’t really want to see Rosamund and Thoby being smug, but I am sorry not to be a support for Cordelia. Rosamund will doubtless cloister her away with the married ladies and she’ll be terribly bored.”