Could not Lilith have told me Mangan is a member of her coven? Why did she leave such a thing for me to discover by myself?

Perry bounds into the conversation. “We are on a mission to secure commissions,” he says, causing Charlotte to laugh and comment on the rhyme. The two fall to happy chatter, and Bram envies Perry the ease with which he conducts himself. Mangan has been collared by a pair of elderly ladies with fluttering fans, so that Bram and Lilith are left free to speak. Except that he is so tongue-tied he starts to panic that the moment will pass and she will be snapped up by someone else before he can summon some sensible words.

“Is your brother here?” he asks at last, remembering that he was the reason behind Lilith attending the ball.

“He is.” She scans the room. “There, just in front of the orchestra.”

“He looks very like you. I think I could have picked him out myself.”

“We are alike in some ways, yes.”

She is being unbearably polite and reserved. Bram is about to abandon caution completely and simply ask her if she minds him being there, and to explain that Mangan insisted he come, and to apologize if this is difficult for her in any way, but also to say that it is wonderful to see her, and that she looks utterly divine. But a tall, blond figure comes to stand close to Lilith. A proximity that suggests a familiarity that rankles Bram. He detects a minute alteration in Lilith’s demeanor, which worries him further.

“Oh, Louis, this is Bram Cardale, the artist you have heard me speak of. Mr. Cardale … Viscount Louis Harcourt.”

She does not say “my fiancé” and yet he is. Still. And a witch besides. I cannot tell which of us is more uncomfortable in this situation, Lilith or I. I must not make matters worse.

Awkwardly, he thrusts out his hand. “I am a pupil of Richard Mangan. The sculptor. You will be familiar with his work, of course.”

For one agonizing moment it looks as if the Viscount will not take Bram’s hand, but then he does so, shaking it firmly.

“Isn’t everyone? Excellent stuff. Not that I’m any judge. Not an artistic bone in my body, have I, Lily? You’ve always told me so.”

Bram has to resist grinding his teeth at the use of Lilith’s pet name on this man’s lips.

“You must come to the studio one day,” he says. “I would be happy to explain the pieces there to you.”

“I tried to persuade Lily to take me with her when she accompanied Charlotte for her sittings, but she refused me. Said genius must not be disturbed.”

“I said nothing of the sort.” Lilith colors a little.