The worst part was that she could sympathize. She knew what it was like to be near to the person you loved yet feel as if you were a million miles away.

“James,” she said, laying her hand on his arm. “I find I have rather a desire to play chess.”

That brought a smile from him, though only a slight one. “Of course,” he said. “We shall depart at once.”

“To play chess?” Alastair muttered. “Married life sounds thrilling.”

Cordelia kissed Alastair goodbye on the cheek as James went to offer the necessary excuses to their hosts. They collected their things in silence, and soon found themselves on the front steps of the Wentworths’ house, waiting for the carriage to be brought around.

It was a lovely night, the stars water-clear, like diamonds. Grace had watched them go, a thoughtful expression on her face. Cordelia could not help but wonder how much Grace concealed. It was not like her to approach James. Perhaps she had felt desperate. Cordelia could not blame her if she did.

She could not ask James, though, because they were not alone on the steps—Tessa and Will were there. Tessa was smiling up at Will as she tucked her hands into fur-lined gloves; he bent to brush her hair from her forehead.

James cleared his throat loudly. Cordelia glanced up at him. “Otherwise they’d start kissing,” he said matter-of-factly. “Believe me, I know.”

Tessa seemed delighted to see them. She beamed at Cordelia. “Don’t you look lovely. Dreadful we have to leave the party so early—fortunately, Miss Highsmith has offered poor Filomena the use of her carriage later—but we’re meant to Portal to Paris early tomorrow morning.” She did not, Cordelia noted, mention Charles.

“We tried to approach you inside but were cut off by Rosamund chasing Thoby around because their ice sculpture had melted,” said Will. “What does it mean for the youth of today, that they don’t know that ice melts? What are we teaching them in the schoolrooms?”

James looked amused. “Is this another ‘youth of today’ speech?” He dropped his voice into a passable imitation of Will’s. “Running about, no morals, using ridiculous words like ‘barmy’ and ‘brinkets’—”

“Even I know ‘brinkets’ is not a word,” said Will, with great dignity. He and James bantered back and forth as the Institute’s carriage rolled around the corner and stopped at the foot of the steps, driven by a skinny footman in silver and ivory. Cordelia could not help but think how different James’s relationship with his father was from Alastair’s with Elias. She wondered, sometimes, what Elias would say if he knew about Alastair and Charles. If he knew Alastair was different. She wanted to think he wouldn’t care. Months ago she would have been sure of it. Now, she was sure of nothing.