Nor was the room empty. Lounging on a chaise by the fireplace was Anna. She wore black trousers and a sapphire-blue waistcoat unbuttoned over a fine-milled linen shirt. Her legs were crossed, a glass of red wine in one of her hands. “Glad to see Ariadne found you,” she said. “Is there a reason you and Grace Blackthorn keep having fraught meetings with Malcolm Fade? Something scandalous I ought to know?”

Lucie glanced back and forth between Anna and Ariadne, who had seated herself atop a large walnut desk. She was swinging her legs, her petticoats rustling around her ankles.

So Ariadne had been expecting to see Anna. Lucie had been right. But she’d imagined that Ariadne had simply been hoping to bump into Anna by mischance. It was clear, however, that a prior assignation had been made. Well, that’s an interesting development.

“And where is Grace?” Anna said, and took a sip of wine.

“She bolted,” said Ariadne. “I never knew she could run so fast.”

Anna gave Lucie a sharp look. “This is beginning to sound familiar,” she said. “Isn’t this the second time you’ve appeared at the Hell Ruelle with Grace Blackthorn and she’s run off like her hair was on fire? I hope this isn’t going to become a pattern.”

Lucie raised her eyebrows. “You saw us the last time?”

Anna shrugged. “Lucie, ducks, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me. Your secrets are yours. But Malcolm Fade is a powerful man. If you’re going to have dealings with him…”

“I was trying to help,” Lucie said. She stuck her hands out to the purple fire. Her mind was spinning. What could she tell, and what must she hold back? “To help Grace.”

“That’s awfully odd,” said Ariadne. “She’s never mentioned you. In fact, I have never seen her meet a single friend, and when she takes the carriage—Charles lent her his, for her use while he is in Paris—she is always alone. I don’t think she likes me much.”

“I don’t think she likes anyone much,” Lucie said. “At least, not anyone living.” A story was spinning itself into being in her mind, one that might do nicely. “But she’s not all bad. As you’ve probably noticed,” she added, looking back up at her cousin, “Grace was raised by a delusional monster, and as such has had a miserable life. I don’t think she ever experienced a whit of caring from any part of her family save her brother.”

“Jesse, you mean?” said Anna. “My cousin?”

Lucie looked at her with a little surprise; it had not quite really occurred to her before that Anna, being older, might remember Jesse. “Did you meet him?”