Inside the large central chamber, a relaxed crowd of Downworlders chatted at small tables scattered throughout the room. Lucie searched for Hypatia but did not see her, though she saw a number of other familiar faces, including Kellington, who was playing violin among a string quartet onstage. The women were dressed in the height of fashion—narrow skirts and pagoda sleeves, the sort of thing one might see in Paris—which was only fitting, since the walls had been painted with scenes of Parisian life. The theme had been extended to the waiters serving moules frites and ham sandwiches with tiny cornichons. Bottles of French wine and absinthe lined the bar. The guests seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, gossiping and laughing. The liveliest were attempting to learn the beguine on a makeshift dance floor in the corner.

Grace looked astonished. “What is she doing here?”

Lucie followed her gaze and saw—to her surprise—Ariadne Bridgestock, sitting at one of the tables by herself. She looked very pretty in a dark green gown, her black hair held back by a yellow silk bandeau. “I’ve no idea,” she said. “Has she ever mentioned the Ruelle before?”

“No. We hardly talk,” said Grace. “I am keeping rather too many secrets to be anyone’s confidante right now.”

“We ought to go speak to her, don’t you think?”

“We ought to go find Malcolm,” said Grace. “We can’t keep him waiting—Lucie!”

For Lucie was already halfway across the room. She slid into a chair across from Ariadne, who looked up in surprise as she recognized her visitor. “Lucie, dear. I heard you frequented this place.”

“ ‘Frequented’ seems an exaggeration,” Lucie said. “But what of you? What brings you tonight?”

Ariadne tucked a dark curl behind her ear. “Everyone made it sound so exciting. Since my engagement ended, I’ve realized how—restricted—my life has been. I’ve seen so very little, even of London.”

Lucie smiled to herself; though Ariadne was looking at her with sincerity, she couldn’t help but wonder how much this interest in the Ruelle had to do with a certain blue-eyed Lightwood. “It’s quite a quiet night this evening. You may not be seeing the Ruelle at its liveliest.”

Ariadne shrugged philosophically. “Well, I can always come another time.” She looked around. “I was hoping to see the famous Hypatia Vex, at least, but she isn’t here either.”

“She’s opening her new magic shop in Limehouse soon.”

“And the rumor is she’s got a new admirer. One of the werewolves told me. I hope you girls have a good time,” she added, with a glance toward Grace, “and if you haven’t tried absinthe before, you might want to start with a very little bit.”