“Oh,” she said faintly, and signed in the space provided. Better not marry anyone, then. She put the papers back on his desk then cleared her throat. “There are some other matters I will want you to see to,” she added.

“And what might those be?” He smiled politely. After all, the clock was ticking at her expense.

“Firstly.” She held up a finger. “There is a house that takes my fancy; it is located at number 46, Bridge Park Lane, and it appears to be empty. Am I right in thinking you can make inquiries on my behalf about its availability? If it’s open for lease or purchase I’d be extremely interested in acquiring it, and I’ll want to move in as soon as possible.”

Bates sat up straight and nodded, almost enthusiastically. “Of course, of course,” he said, scribbling in a crabbed hand on a yellow pad. “And is there anything else?” he asked.

“Secondly.” She held up a second finger. “Over the next month I will be wanting to create or purchase a limited liability company. It will need setting up. In addition, I will have a number of applications for patents that must be processed through the royal patent office—I need to locate and retain a patent agent on behalf of my company.”

“A company, and a patents agent.” He raised an eyebrow but kept writing. “Is there anything else?” he asked politely.

“Indeed. Thirdly, I have a quantity, held overseas, I should add, of bullion. Can you advise me on the issues surrounding its legal sale here?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” He put his pen down. “I can’t, because it’s illegal for anyone but the crown to own bullion.” He pointed at the signet ring he wore on his left hand. “No rule against jewelry, of course, so long as it weighs less than a pound. But bullion?” He sniffed. “You can perhaps approach the mint about an import license, and sell it to the crown yourself—they’ll give you a terrible rate, not worth your while, only ten pounds for an ounce. But that’s the war, for you. The mint is chronically short. If I were you I’d sell it overseas and repatriate the proceeds as bearer bonds.”

“Thank you.” Miriam beamed at him ingratiatingly to cover up the sound of her teeth grinding together. Ten pounds for an ounce? Erasmus, you and I are going to have strong words, she thought. Scratch finding an alternative, though. “How long will this take?” she asked.