What message? He didn’t ask. He had to keep her here, he realized. If he gave her a chance to run, he might never get answers.

“I had to tell you, darling,” she went on, her gray eyes wide and earnest. “I am going to end it with Charles. I cannot bear it anymore, James. I will not marry him. There never was anyone for me but you.”

“Thank God,” he said. He saw her smile; now was his chance. He drew back and reached around her to slam the door closed, bolting it. When he turned back to her and caught at her hand, cold and bony in his, she let him take it almost eagerly. Didn’t she even wonder where Cordelia was? James thought. Whether they might be interrupted? Was no one in the world real to her except herself? Did nothing matter but her immediate needs?

“Thank God,” he said again. “Thank God and the Angel that this farce is finally over.”

Her smile vanished. James could not help but marvel at what he was feeling—or rather, not feeling. Gone was the need for her so strong it felt like an illness. Gone was the sense of shock and amazement he felt at the sight of her.

In its place was something else. A rising anger.

Her lips were moving, starting to shape questions. But James could hear footsteps—the sound of the door had probably roused Effie. The last thing he wanted was to be interrupted. Tightening his grip on Grace’s wrist, he marched her down the hall into the drawing room. Once inside, he let go of her immediately, yanking his hand back with such force that her mouth opened in indignant protest. He slammed the door behind them, locked it, and placed himself in its path.

She stared at him. She was panting a little. Objectively, he knew, she was still beautiful. Her features, her fine hair, her slender figure, none of that had changed. But they revolted him now as surely as if she’d been a monster extruding warts and tentacles in all directions. “James,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

He reached into his pocket, his hand closing around the broken pieces of bracelet. A moment later he had flung them on the floor. They clanged as they dropped, looking rather pitiful against the carpet—two tarnished half-moons of bent metal. “ ‘Loyalty binds me,’ ” he said mockingly. “At least, it did.”

Grace’s whole body tensed. He could see the calculation in her eyes—she had come hoping the enchantment of the bracelet would still work. That she would be able to charm him. Realizing the truth, now, she was considering her options. “How did it break?”

“It happened while I was kissing Cordelia,” he said, and saw her wince a little, as if the words were distasteful. Good. She could consider her options all she liked—he had no intention of being cooperative or friendly.