“Eunice is only teasing you,” said Vespasia Greenmantle, a comfortable-looking woman in purple velvet. “Newlyweds and their late nights, eh?”

Cordelia felt her cheeks turn crimson.

“Enjoy it while you can,” said Eunice. “Soon enough you’ll be readying the nursery.”

“Babies are dull, Eunice,” said Lilian Highsmith, who looked magisterial in an old-fashioned blue dress and sapphires. “Now weapons, on the other hand, are interesting.” She reached out a hand toward Cortana. “I, for one, have been admiring your blade, my dear. May I?”

Cordelia nodded, and Lilian touched the hilt of Cortana, smiling wistfully. “As a girl, all I wanted was a weapon made by Wayland the Smith. When I was twelve, I ran away from home and my parents found me wandering the Ridgeway Road, looking for the smith’s barrow. I’d brought a penny, just as the stories said I should, and was absolutely positive I’d get a sword in return!” She chuckled. “Yours is lovely.”

“Thank you,” said Cordelia, but behind her she could hear some of the other ladies whispering—someone wondering aloud why she wasn’t on her honeymoon, and someone else, probably Eunice, replying that James and Cordelia hadn’t had the luxury of waiting and planning. A matter of her reputation, you know.

Ugh, this was unbearable. And the music was about to start too: soon all Cordelia’s friends would be dancing, so she could hardly escape to their company. She saw that James had returned to the ballroom, but he had been drawn aside by his parents, with whom he was engaged in intense conversation. It wasn’t as if he could ask her to dance, she reminded herself. Husbands weren’t meant to dance with their wives at balls.

“If the honor of the first dance is still available, Mrs. Herondale?”

There was a little rustle of astonishment among the married ladies. Cordelia looked up in surprise, recognizing the lazy, indolent drawl: Matthew stood in front of her, looking inquiring and colorful—his waistcoat was decorated with embroidered peacocks, his blond hair shining brilliantly under the lights of the chandeliers.

Gratefully, she let him lead her out onto the floor. “Well, that will be the most exciting thing that’s happened to that lot in ages,” she said. “Oh dear, I suppose that’s rude, isn’t it? I’m married too; I can’t be finding married people boring.”

“Most people are boring,” said Matthew. “Being married or not has little to do with it.”

The first dance was a polonaise, and couples were coming from all over the room to join the procession onto the floor. Cecily and Gideon, Catherine Townsend and Augustus Pounceby, Filomena di Angelo—Cordelia recalled meeting the dark-haired Italian girl at her wedding—and Albert Breakspear. Christopher had partnered with Eugenia, and there was Alastair, dancing politely with Ariadne.

“Why come to parties, then?” Cordelia demanded. “If you find everyone so dull.”