Her face is such a mixture of pride and sadness that Bram cannot tell which emotion wins out. He finds he is looking at her differently now, searching for something hidden. Something strange.

No, not Jane. Surely not Jane. That Mangan should be a witch is perhaps not such a surprising thing after all. But not Jane.

He heads along the passageway and knocks on Perry’s door.

“Bram, my dear fellow, not a minute to spare. Come along in.”

“Jane tells me you might be able to help with clothes. I’ve nothing even close to being suitable.”

“Fear not, I am well equipped.” He starts pulling garments from his wardrobe. “Jacket and waistcoat should fit all right, and I’ve plenty of shirt fronts and collars … here, ah yes, and here. The trousers might be a tad short, but not ridiculously so. Have you shoes? No? Not to worry. Here we are.” He loads him up with an armful of evening wear.

“Do you know them, the Anstruthers?” Bram asks.

“Me? Heavens no. Quite the aristos, madly rich. People get into fights for an invitation to one of their soirées, let alone a ball. Should be a splendid affair. And plenty of prospective clients for both of us, don’t you think?”

“I expect Mangan thinks so.”

Perry laughs. “Yes, I expect he does. Oh well, we shall know our place then, the penniless artists touting for business. Isn’t that so, Gudrun?” he calls out to her as she passes the door.

Gudrun peers into the bedroom. Her hair is wrapped in a towel, turban-style, making her look even more aloof than usual and not a little exotic.

Should I simply ask her? Simply put it to her that I know her secret and see if she, too, confesses to magical talents?

“You are brave tonight, Artist,” she tells Bram.

“Oh?”

“You must know your Beauty will be there.”

Bram experiences a shiver of excitement as he thinks of meeting Lilith, tonight, unexpectedly, no doubt looking more wonderful than ever. The thought that such an encounter might be difficult for her, for both of them, has already flitted through his mind, but he chooses to dismiss it. He finds he wants to see her, wants to observe her in her world, surrounded by her people, being the Lilith he never sees when she is huddling in her coat in his freezing attic, or hiding on a settle in the Soldiers’ Arms.

It will be a test of sorts, a test of their love for each other. He knows that Gudrun considers it will be so, and it irks him that she should find this amusing. He will not let her see that he is in any way apprehensive. Besides, tomorrow he will be on a train, with Lilith, bound for a week of just the two of them, far away from all the endless demands their London lives make upon them.