Malcolm looked at Lucie for a long time. “There are different sorts of enchantments,” he said at last. “Miss Blackthorn is of the sort who know that men like to be needed. She plays at helplessness and flirting.”

“Humph,” said Lucie. She forbore to point out that given the limits placed on women by the world, they often had no choice but to seek assistance from men.

Malcolm shrugged. “All I am saying is that you should not trust that girl,” he said. “The decision, of course, is up to you.”

“It’s the most extraordinary thing,” Ariadne said, closing the door of the Whispering Room behind her and locking it for good measure. “Grace Blackthorn just burst out of Malcolm Fade’s office and went running out of the Ruelle. Do you think I should go after her?”

They had lit a fire in the grate; Anna was lounging in front of it, wearing only a man’s white button-down shirt. Her long bare legs, extended toward the flames, were elegant as a poem. She rolled over onto her stomach, propping her chin on her palms, and said, “No—she’s made it quite clear that she doesn’t care much about you. Perhaps you should extend her the same consideration. Besides,” Anna added, her red lips curling into a smile, “you’re not thinking of charging out into the night wearing that, are you?”

Ariadne blushed; she’d nearly forgotten she was only in her shift—white muslin with an olive-green ribbon threaded through the bodice. The rest of her clothes—dress and shoes, petticoats, drawers, tapes, and corset—were scattered around the room.

She started back toward Anna, dropping down on the rug beside her. It was Ariadne’s third trip to the Whispering Room to meet Anna, and she had grown quite fond of the place. She liked the silver paper on the walls, the copper bowl always kept full of hothouse fruit, the smoke from the fire that always smelled like roses. “She isn’t rude to me,” she said thoughtfully. “She’s polite and mouths responses when she’s asked questions, but she’s just not really there.”

“Probably busy thinking about how she can ruin James’s life,” said Anna, rolling onto her back. Her ruby pendant gleamed at her throat. “Do come here,” she said languidly, reaching up her arms, and Ariadne slid on top of her.

Anna was all length and loose limbs, every gesture a sensual sprawl. Ariadne’s heart fluttered as Anna reached a pale hand up to tug gently at the straps holding up Ariadne’s shift. It slid down to her waist. Anna’s eyes darkened to sapphires.