She didn’t see her father or Blinker anywhere. And if anyone saw them from a window, it would be impossible to identify them under the umbrella. In answer, she wrapped her hand around the arm holding the brolly. “I’ll walk with you anytime you ask. I don’t care what he says.”

“Of course you care. You should respect his wishes—after this time, I mean.” He grinned, but it looked sad and was too soon gone.

They hurried away from the OB, silent. But she made no argument when he steered them toward Hyde Park rather than going directly to Curzon Street. Their feet found their familiar path, and as they neared the tree beside which they’d talked before, he drew them to a halt.

“Lily.” He shifted so he faced her, the umbrella’s rod between them. “I have caused you trouble, and I never meant to. Your mother is very angry?”

“She is. But that isn’t your fault. I should have told her long ago.” She tried to smile, but she suspected it didn’t look very convincing. “We’ll work it out.”

“I pray you do. But even so. I am so sorry for how last night ended. I am sorry for the anger I directed at you when it belongs to anyone but. And I am sorry for not telling you before of Alyona.”

She wrapped her fingers around his. “I’m glad you told me at all. I can’t even imagine the grief you must feel.”

“It is as much guilt as grief.” His face twisted. “She was killed because of me. A bullet put through her head because of my opinions, my words, my actions.”

“But not your hand.” Her heart twisted to match his countenance. “The guilt rests on the perpetrator, not on you.” But she understood the shake of his head. How could she not? She’d been struggling with the same feelings just minutes ago.

He leaned forward until his forehead touched hers. “I will not have the same happen to you. I will not put you in danger by associating with me. You mean too much to me.”

She lifted her hand, touched her fingers to his cool cheek. “I am not in danger, Zivon.”

“You could be. I have enemies, and they seem to have found me. Whatever it is that has put the admiral on his guard, it is their work, I am certain.”

The Bolsheviks? Here, in London? That didn’t seem possible. From what she’d read—and the little he or her father had told her—the political situation in Russia was far too chaotic for them to spare precious resources for hunting down one stray naval officer.

She brushed her fingertips along his jaw. “I obviously can’t speak to that. But I can promise you that whatever this trouble is, we’ll sort it out. Solve it.”