Cordelia, still hand in hand with James, looked around in wonder. The ballroom had been transformed into a glittering fantasia. Sona had worked tirelessly with Tessa to plan the party, and they’d left no corner of the ballroom untouched, from the candles winking from hundreds of brass sconces to the swaths of gold silk draped at the windows. The golden hues of Cordelia’s gown were echoed again and again, in shimmering pennants and gleaming bells strung from the ceiling. Gold glinted from the ribbons that twined through garlands of tansy and Welsh poppies, and gilded the apples and pears nestled in arrangements of evergreen and white-berried quickbeam. Even the two huge tiered cakes at the center of the lavish spread were iced in gold and ivory.

There was a truly impressive spread laid out: steaming platters of roast lamb and chicken, thin pounded mutton chops, beef tongue, goose-liver pâté. Another long table was bedecked with cold salmon in a cucumber sauce; a salad of lobster and rice and another of boiled potatoes and pickles; and plump eggs suspended artfully in aspic. Interspersed among the dishes were towers of brightly colored jellies in amber, fuchsia, and green.

Cordelia exchanged amazed glances with James as their friends crowded around them. Christopher had nicked a pear from a display and seemed disappointed to discover that it was made of wax.

“Goodness, it’s magnificent,” Cordelia said, gazing around the room.

“You flatter me, darling,” Matthew said mildly. “I have been saving this waistcoat for a special occasion, though.”

Cordelia laughed just as James’s parents descended on them—wishing to congratulate them and also, Cordelia suspected, to protect them from being overwhelmed by eager members of the Enclave. Cordelia caught Will’s eye as he beamed at his son, and felt her smile slip. Of all those who believed the fiction of her marriage to James, betraying Tessa and Will was the most difficult to bear.

“I’m famished,” James whispered to Cordelia as Lucie tried to shoo their well-wishers toward the tables—as the bride and groom, they could not stop to eat until all the guests were settled. She could see the small group of her own family toward the far end of the room, Alastair and Elias helping Sona carefully into a chair. She would have liked to join her family, but Sona had already made it clear that once the ceremony was over, she would expect Cordelia to remain by James’s side. “It’s cruel to have to gaze upon a feast like that and not be able to nab so much as a biscuit.”

“Is Christopher eating his wax pear?” she whispered back. “That can’t be healthy.”