“I didn’t expect that,” Christopher said, trying to stopper the tube with the end of his handkerchief. James exchanged an exasperated look with Matthew, and they ran to open the windows, coughing and gasping. Thomas grabbed a tattered book from the shelves and tried to fan the smoke toward the window. They opened the rest of the windows and doors and grabbed whatever was at hand to wave the acrid smoke around the room until it finally dissipated, leaving a bitter stench and a scattering of black soot on every surface.

They slammed the windows closed. Thomas went into the adjoining room and returned with dry wood: this time, when Christopher tried to light the fire—with ordinary vesta matches—it caught. The four of them crowded around the circular table in the middle of the room, all shivering; Matthew caught James’s hands and chafed them between his own.

“Well, this is a fine way to spend the eve of your wedding,” he said apologetically.

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” James said, his teeth chattering. “You’re the only ones who know the truth about this wedding, for one thing.”

“Thus freeing us from the usual expectation that this penultimate evening must be enjoyable,” Matthew said. He let go of James’s hands and set out four cups. Picking up the brandy bottle, he poured a measure into each.

His tone was light, but there was an edge to his voice, and James wondered how much Matthew had had to drink before he’d even arrived at the tavern tonight.

“The regulars seemed to enjoy Claribella’s performance,” Thomas said.

“Did you know she was a reverse mermaid?” Christopher asked, his lilac eyes wide with innocent curiosity.

“Er,” said Matthew, refilling his mug, “not as such, no. I mean, the booker said she was backward, but I just thought he meant she was poorly educated, and I didn’t wish to be a snob.”

Thomas snorted.

“You might have asked to see her before booking her,” James said. He took a sip from his mug; the brandy began warming up his insides as the fire, now crackling, had started to warm his outside.

He’d meant it as a joke, but Matthew looked wounded. “I made an effort,” he protested. To Thomas and Christopher he said, “I didn’t hear any magnificent ideas from the rest of you for tonight.”

“Only because you said you had it handled,” Thomas said.

“The important thing,” Christopher said, looking alarmed at the potential for conflict, “is that we’re all together. And that we get James to the ceremony on time, of course.”

“Of course, because the groom is champing at the bit to be married,” Matthew drawled, and they all looked at each other, as alarmed as Christopher. The four of them argued or fought very rarely, and James and Matthew almost never.