Jane’s first impulse was to find Vincent and lay before him the whole of the conversation so that he could join her in astonishment at the insensibility of her parents. But by the time she reached their rooms, she realized that would be one of the worst choices she could make. To bring these grievances to Vincent’s attention could only make him less comfortable with her parents. Jane sat before her pianoforte and played until her head was somewhat cooler. As she did, she again found herself grateful that their visit was so constrained.

To her surprise, the rest of the visit passed without apparent upset. Vincent seemed to find a certain peace by attempting to be of some use to her mother. He busied himself with running errands, and in the evening entertained them with shadow-plays. Still, Jane felt that the conversation about grandchildren would resume at any moment, and the lack of them would be cited as a flaw in their marriage.

When it came time to leave London, Jane was nearly as anxious to be away as Vincent was.

So pleased had the Prince Regent been with their work that he had arranged for them to sail on HMS Dolphin, the only difficulty being that they would have to hurry to depart, as the ship was set to sail the Monday following. Jane could not say she begrudged the rush in the slightest, as it hastened the moment when she might escape her mother’s examinations.

The January wind whipped off the coast and lifted sails and skirts alike. Despite the chill, Jane stood at the rail of the Dolphin, feeling as if a series of stays were releasing their laces with each length they moved away from the shore. Vincent stood at her back with one hand steadying her against the pitching of the boat. Like most professional glamourists, he eschewed gloves even in public. She could not regret this departure from fashion, though she had yet to embrace it herself. The warmth of his hand seemed to travel through her body, and she leaned into him, relishing the waves as an excuse for the public display of affection.

As they left the harbour for the deeper water of the Channel, several of the other passengers bent over the rail, emptying their breakfasts into the harbour, but Jane felt not the least bit of queasiness.

She inhaled the salty tang of the sea air and lifted her face to the sun, relishing the sense, if not the fact, of being alone with her husband. If she could wish away the other passengers and have only this quiet space with Vincent, she would. Still staring at the ocean, Jane sighed. ‘I wish a Sphère Obscurcie could work at sea.’

‘Why is that, muse?’

‘So that I might kiss you here on the deck without shocking our neighbours.’