“It means,” Mariel said, leaning back on her bench, “that I thought for sure I was going to have to keep playing the innocent my whole damn life, just to keep you off my back.”

Celeste flinched. “I never asked you to pretend.”

“No?” Her voice rose an octave in mimicry. “Mariel, don’t drink laudanum. Mariel, it’s not safe to walk home alone. Mariel, don’t step out with a man.” Her tone turned cruel. “While you’re out there pirooting with a goddamned demon.”

Celeste stared, at a loss for words. “I was only trying to protect you,” she finally said.

“Well, who asked you to?”

That stung. “But Dad left you…”

“And good riddance. Isn’t that always what you say, Celeste? That he was an awful man, so why would I have wanted to go with him?” She drew a cigarillo from the pocket of her dress and lit it. “If you ask me, I dodged a bullet, because he sure did a number on you.”

“Ah, that’s not fair,” Celeste murmured. “Mama did her share, too.”

Mariel laughed at that, loud and brash. “Well, at least that’s the truth. Neither of them was worth the skin they wore.”

“Since when do you smoke?” Celeste asked absently. “Never mind, give me one.” She leaned in, and Mariel handed her a thin cigarette, struck a match, and lit it. The smoke immediately soothed her nerves. “How did you get these?”

“One of the Virtues. We traded.”

“With what? No, I don’t what to know that, either.” She exhaled, hands rubbing along her thighs, trying to think, but her mind was still reeling. She looked up. “Have I been that awful?” she asked.

“Yes.” Mariel sighed. “No. But heaven and hell, Celeste, you’ve got to let me breathe.”

“Was this my fault?”

“Daniel? Heavens, no.” She sat up. “Oh, he was a sly one, and I should have known it, but he was charming and a real belvidere, you know? Eyes like the spring skies and so smooth-tongued. But trust a man who knows his value to deny a woman hers.”

“What happened?”