“Hello.” Her own smile felt fluttery and uncertain. She searched his eyes, looking for some answer to his hesitation. Had he changed his mind about her? It certainly didn’t seem so, from the letters he’d sent. But . . .

“What are you doing here?” He softened the harsh words by lifting her hand and pressing his lips to her knuckles. “Your father would not approve.”

And yet she didn’t think that was the cause of his reaction. “I’ve come with an invitation. But . . .”

Another flash of something in his eyes, partially hidden behind the glare on his eyeglasses. “Forgive me, milaya, if my joy at seeing you has been eclipsed by alarm at your finding me at this particular moment.” His words were so quiet she could barely hear them. “I am out here on covert business.”

She may have laughed it off, had he not looked entirely serious. And if it didn’t seem entirely possible, given recent events.

Doubt flashed through her. What sort of covert business? Should she be concerned?

But he smiled. “Someone has been following me lately. Hall has men in place to apprehend him even now. My task is to lead him to them.”

“Oh.” She smiled back, though she suspected his had been more for show than because he felt happy. “I had better walk with you, then. It would look odd if I took off in the other direction, wouldn’t it?”

“Lily—”

“Don’t make me leave, Zivon. I have missed you so terribly.”

He sighed. Kissed her hand again. And then tucked it into the crook of his arm. “Your father will not be pleased. And I doubt Hall will be either.”

“If they didn’t want me chasing you down today to issue the invitation for dinner they said I could give you, someone should have warned me against it. So, it’s their own fault.” She shouldn’t feel so happy about the chance to indulge in a small rebellion, but there it was.

He chuckled. The fingers that he rested on hers were warm and caressing too, soothing the uncertainty his greeting had sparked. “You look beautiful today.”

She laughed at the obvious exaggeration. She was in her VAD uniform, after all, and hadn’t even taken the kerchief from her hair. “Fairer than the lilies of the field, I’m sure.”

“Exactly my thinking.” He let his arm brush hers. “I have missed you more than words can say, milaya.”

“How fortunate, then, that we have the chance for something more than written words now. Although”—she bumped his arm back—“I admit that I do quite like your letters. I can read them over and over again when I miss you.”

“I have had this same thought.”