‘When I was at home, my father forbade me to practice glamour, because it was a woman’s art. So, I watched my sisters’ lessons and learned what I could from them, simple as they were. But what I delighted in was to learn by unstitching glamours, so that I could get at their parts. I would take them apart and then slowly learn to put them back together again, not always with success.’

‘That must have brought you into terrible trouble.’

‘It did.’ He grew quiet for a moment and carressed her hair, lost in a memory. ‘I taught myself to work glamour from a distance so that I could unstitch things while my sisters were standing near them. If I were stealthy, one of them would get the blame.’

Jane pushed herself up and stared at him in astonishment. ‘You did not.’

‘I told you I was not a nice boy.’

‘You did not say you were wicked.’

His voice roughened. ‘I would have thought you had learned that by now.’

‘Rogue.’

‘Muse.’

They were occupied for some minutes, then, with duties marital. To disturb their privacy would be indecorous. Suffice to say: the Vincents were a healthy couple, and with their differences settled, they were happily matched in temperament.

Some time later, nestled her head in the space between her husband’s neck and shoulder, that tender region usually shielded from view by high starched collars and cravats. ‘Vincent. At dinner, the Prince Regent seemed quite convinced we were going to the Continent. Had you said something to him?’

His hand, which had been stroking her hair, stilled. ‘I might have. The Continent is all the conversation allows, these days.’ Resuming his motion, he traced her hair where it lay unbound across her shoulders. ‘Would you like to go?’

‘I hardly know. I have not given it any thought until tonight. I suppose we could, as I am not certain what we shall do with ourselves now that this commission is over.’ Though she had no real hope that her next gambit would work, she kissed his cheek. ‘You recall that Papa invited us to return to Long Parkmead with them.’

As she suspected, Vincent grunted, but did not otherwise answer. A natural hermit, the confines of her home and the constant society which her mother pressed upon him sometimes overwhelmed his senses. At court, in the role of the Prince Regent’s glamourist, he was given leave to be taciturn, and it was deemed an eccentricity. At Long Parkmead, in his role as son-in-law, that same silence caused her mother to think that Vincent did not like her. It was a difficult boundary for him to walk.

‘Did you want to go to the Continent?’ she asked him.