“No, but for now, at least, I’m going to respect Captain Blackwell’s wishes and keep you out of this inquiry. Rest assured that if my other photographer contacts don’t prove as skilled as I require, I will overrule your father’s request.”

Huffing out a breath, she slung her bag’s strap over her shoulder and straightened. “Zivon Marin is a good man, Admiral.”

Hall sighed. “The problem is that good is a bit too relative when it comes to matters of national trust. My agents are good men too—good Englishmen. That certainly doesn’t mean the governments in whose domain they’re operating would agree.”

She didn’t know how to argue without sounding like Zivon’s love-blinded sweetheart. And, frankly, she was all too aware of the photo in her bag with Johanna’s face in it. Proof of her past mistakes in matters of affection.

Maybe Hall and Daddy were right to keep her out of it.

A battle for another day, at any rate. She took out the stack of photos—she’d nearly forgotten them when he gave her bag back to her—and slid them onto his desk. “I understand you have to be cautious. Just please assure me you’ll find someone skilled to look at that. And that you’ll remember the lessons you’ve learned to use so well against your enemies when it comes to this—that the same facts can be used to tell multiple stories, depending on how one tells them.”

He smiled and slid the image of Zivon back into its envelope. “And you tried to say you’re not suited for this work.”

He probably meant the chiding as a sort of compliment. But it weighed heavy as guilt on her chest as she turned away.

Rain had begun to fall by the time she regained the street—and she hadn’t thought to grab an umbrella. She could make a run for the tube, but by the time she got to the nearest station, she’d already be soaked. She could go back and wait it out. Or duck into a café, perhaps. But neither of those options suited her mood. She wanted to go home. Think things over.

A large black umbrella appeared over her head. And the man holding it made her heart patter as fast as the rain in the puddles. Zivon had deep shadows underscoring his eyes that his glasses did little to hide, and his cheeks were pale.

He cast a glance over his shoulder. “I should not be speaking to you, I know. But if you will grant me one last walk, Lily, I will be obedient hereafter.”