And, after all, my parents were not the only ones to regard Louis as a fine catch. Most of those here today know nothing of his coven membership; they simply see him as one of the most eligible bachelors in London. Dear Louis, I believe that is how he has always regarded himself. He knows how attractive he is, with his golden hair, bright blue eyes, and easy grace. He knows the effect he has on young women, knows how many mothers would have happily consented to him marrying their daughters. He exudes wealth and breeding effortlessly, with his fine features and twinkling eyes. I confess I find him attractive—it would be difficult to feel otherwise. And I am fond of him. But it is a fondness born of childhood acquaintance and many years of familiarity. There is something missing, at least for me. I believe he does love me, though I am not so naïve as to think his feelings for me would be the same if I were not the daughter of a duke, and heir to the title of Head Witch.

Is it foolish of me to hanker for some girlish notion of romantic love? Does such a thing even truly exist, I wonder.

After a few moments of giving me his rather intense attention, Louis moves on to express his sympathies to Mama and I slip away. I have no appetite, but remove myself to the dining room on the pretext of looking for something to eat. In fact, I merely wish to make sure all the guests are being properly looked after. None can leave until they have been fed and watered, and the sooner they all go, the happier I will be. The instant I form the thought I feel guilty. These people are, for the most part, here because my family matters to them. I should not be so ungrateful. I should not resent their presence. And yet, looking at such a quantity of glamorously turned-out men and women, who are at this moment busy helping themselves to a glass of this or a bite of that, it is hard to see them as genuinely sympathetic mourners, and easier to see them as partygoers, here to see and be seen, to show off their finery, to engage in tiresome one-upmanship or gossip.

I am spared pondering the matter further by the arrival of the earl of Winchester, Louis’s father. As always his presence unsettles me. I know that he will be watching me closely, and that if he can find a way to remove me from my inherited place in the coven and put Louis in my stead, he will do so. Having me marry his son is surely the easiest path to power.

“My condolences, Lilith,” he says. “Your father was a great man. His loss will be keenly felt by many.”