“He died,” said Lucie, licking some ink off her finger. Around her neck, a gilded chain gleamed. She had been wearing the same plain gold locket for several months now; when Cordelia had asked her about it, Lucie had said it was an old family heirloom meant to be good luck. Cordelia could still remember its presence, a gold flash in the darkness, the night James had nearly died from demon poison in Highgate Cemetary. She did not recall having seen Lucie wear the necklace before that time. She could have pressed Lucie on it, she supposed, but she knew she kept her own secrets from her future parabatai—she could hardly demand to know all of Lucie’s, especially about a matter as small as a locket.

“This sounds like quite a tragic novel,” said Anna, admiring the way her champagne reflected the light.

“Oh, it’s not,” said Lucie. “I didn’t want fictional Cordelia to be tied to only one man. I wanted her to have adventures.”

“Not quite the sentiment one might hope for on the eve of a wedding,” said Anna, “but I applaud it nonetheless. Though one hopes that you will continue having adventures even after being married, Daisy.” Her blue eyes sparkled as she lifted her glass in a toast.

Lucie hoisted her mug. “To the end of freedom! To the beginning of a joyous captivity!”

“Nonsense,” Anna said. “A woman’s wedding is the beginning of her liberation, Lucie.”

“And how is that?” asked Cordelia.

“An unmarried lady,” said Anna, “is perceived by society as being in a temporary state of not being married, and in hopes of becoming married at any moment. A married woman, on the other hand, can flirt with whomever she wants, without damaging her reputation. She can travel freely. To and from my flat, for instance.”

Lucie’s eyes widened. “Are you saying that some of your love affairs have been with ladies who are already married?”

“I am saying it is the case more often than not,” Anna said. “It is simply the case that a married woman is in a freer position to do as she pleases. A single young lady can hardly leave the house unaccompanied. A married lady can shop, go to lectures, meet friends—she has a dozen excuses for being away from home while wearing a flattering hat.”

Cordelia giggled. Anna and Lucie were always able to cheer her up. “And you do like a lady in a flattering hat.”

Anna raised a thoughtful finger. “A lady who can choose a hat that truly suits her is very likely to have paid attention to every layer of her ensemble.”

“What a wise observation,” said Lucie. “Do you mind if I put it in my novel? It’s just the sort of thing Lord Kincaid would say.”