James nearly caught the poor man by his sleeve. “I need to find the train to Southampton—the one that connects to the Le Havre ferry. The first-class cabins,” he added, and saw the porter’s jowly face light with interest.

“Lovely, lovely. I’ll escort you to the train meself. Train leaves spot on time, it does, and finding the platform is a difficult job, sir, what with the numbers on some of them being doubled.…”

James followed the porter as he wove through the crowd. Bright posters overhead encouraged travelers to VISIT FRANCE, showing scenes from Brittany, Paris, and the Côte d’Azur. Then they were at the platform, where a smart-looking train with gleaming brown paintwork stretched down the track. James handed over sixpence and heard nothing of what the porter said to him in response. He was too busy staring.

The first-class carriages were down at the platform’s end, near the train’s head. The air was full of smoke and steam, the platform crowded with travelers, but through it all James could see them. Matthew, stepping into a carriage with a gold-painted door, then turning back to help Cordelia up after him. She wore a too-big coat, her bright-flaming hair slipping out of its combs, but she was smiling at Matthew as he assisted her into the train.

Daisy, my Daisy.

James had just started toward her across the platform when a hand came down on his shoulder. He turned, his coat whirling out about him, about to snap at whoever was delaying him. But the protest died on his lips.

It was his father. He wore a hat, a blue Inverness coat, and a frantic expression. “Thank the Angel I caught you,” Will said. “You have to come with me. Now.”

James’s heart stopped, then started again; the shock of seeing his father there, entirely absent of any context that would make his presence seem reasonable, made words desert him. “I—I can’t—I’m about to get on the train.” He gestured at it wildly. “Cordelia’s already in a carriage—”

“I know,” Will said. He had clearly raced out of the Institute without bothering to glamour himself, though there was a Tracking rune visible on the back of his left hand. How he’d located James, no doubt. “I saw her getting in with Matthew. Where the blazes are you three going?”

“Paris,” James said. “After all the terrible things that have happened—I thought Cordelia deserved to enjoy herself, if only for a few days. We never had a honeymoon, any sort of trip—”

“And you decided now was the proper time?” For a moment, Will looked exasperated. Under other circumstances, James knew, his father would have been more than briefly put out; he would have realized how ridiculous the story James was telling really was and interrogated him like the Inquisitor. James felt a gnawing bite of worry. His father was clearly deeply distressed.