Chain of Gold (The Last Hours #1) - Cassandra Clare Page 0,216

Tessa and Will did not know, nor did anyone want to tell them. Let them think James would be happy with Cordelia. Let them think it was all real. Lucie wished she thought it was real herself, and if that could not be the case, she wished she had someone to talk to about it. The Merry Thieves had all decided to treat the marriage as if it were a lark on James’s part, and she could hardly voice her worries to Cordelia and make her feel even worse than she surely did already.

Perhaps life was not like books. Perhaps life was never going to be like that. Her brother, elegant in black and white, had joined her parents in greeting guests. Gabriel and Cecily had just arrived with Anna, Alexander, and Christopher and distributed embraces and congratulations; Thomas had already come with his family. The Fairchilds had also arrived earlier, Matthew breaking away immediately from his family to make a beeline for the games room. Meanwhile, Charles was wandering around shaking hands and generally taking credit for the end of the attacks. The sound of carriages rattling into the courtyard made its own sort of odd music as the room began to fill up: the Bridgestocks arrived, Ariadne thin but bright-eyed—and with them, Grace Blackthorn.

Lucie tugged anxiously at the locket around her throat. Grace was lovely as new spring in a pale green dress, her silver-blond hair caught up in a waterfall of curls. Having seen Chiswick House up close, Lucie wondered again that Grace always seemed so splendidly turned out when she lived in a large pile of dirty bricks.

Well, she had lived there. She lived with the Bridgestocks now, and would until her marriage to Charles. This was not a celebration for Grace, Lucie thought, looking at the other girl’s pale face as she greeted Will and Tessa. James was perfectly composed, both he and Grace almost painfully polite as he received her congratulations. Did Grace mind? Lucie wondered. She was the one who had broken it off with James—she was marrying Charles—and Lucie did not want to forgive her for breaking James’s heart.

And yet. She watched Grace excuse herself and walk stiffly across the room toward Charles. They greeted each other like strangers or business partners, she thought. Oh, how she wished she could talk to Jesse. Perhaps he would be able to tell her how his sister was really feeling. Perhaps he would be able to tell her more than that—

“She’s here,” whispered a voice in Lucie’s ear. “The guest of honor.”

“Cordelia, you mean?” Lucie turned to see Jessamine hovering just beside her near the tall French doors that led out onto the stone balcony. Through them, she could see an electric streetlight in the distance, casting a strange halo on the glass. Jessamine, though, cast no reflection.

“She looks lovely,” Jessamine said. She gave a mysterious smile and vanished in the direction of the dessert table. Ghosts could not eat, but Jessamine still enjoyed looking at cakes.

Cordelia did look lovely. She came in with her mother and brother, Sona looking darkly regal in a green dress and black velvet roosari, Alastair—well, Lucie hardly noticed Alastair until he handed his hat to the maid and she realized he’d dyed his hair back to its natural black. It stood out strikingly against the brown of his skin.

And then there was Cordelia, arrayed in a tapering gown of deep blue silk and golden tulle, sleeves ruched and an opalescent brooch gathering together silk and gauze in a rosette between her breasts. Risa had dressed her hair with pearls winking among the dark red strands.

James took her hands and kissed her cheek. Both he and Cordelia looked aware of how many people were staring at them and probably whispering. Cordelia’s announcement at the Enclave meeting, though it had led to marriage, remained the shock of the season.

Annoyed on their behalf, Lucie began to make her way across the room toward her family. She was headed off by Thomas, carrying their little cousin Alexander. Aunt Cecily and Uncle Gabriel had clearly palmed Alexander off on Thomas while they devoted themselves to party preparation. It was rather sweet to see tall, muscular Thomas carefully carrying a child, though Lucie would never tell him so lest he get a swelled head.

“Luce,” Thomas said. “I must go greet Cordelia and Alastair. Could you take this awful brat?”

“Not a brat,” said Alexander, who was sucking a piece of licorice.

“I could,” Lucie acknowledged. “I don’t