As Bram approaches Number One Fitzroy Square the thrill of anticipation hastens his steps. When he had found the scarf pin belonging to Lilith on the floor of Mangan’s studio he knew he had the perfect excuse for calling on her. He would return the silver pin with its green tourmaline stones set into the small dragonfly, claim he had been passing anyway, that it was no trouble, and so on, and so on. Despite his determination to see Lilith, he knows he will have to deal with those who might not regard him as a suitable caller.

I shall make certain not to be diverted by some overprotective servant. I shall insist on placing the pin in her hand and no other.

Perry bounds past Bram and pulls the iron bell handle confidently. When he heard of Bram’s intention to visit the house he had insisted on accompanying him.

“Can’t have you standing there all on your own. Don’t want you to look predatory, seeking her out,” he had said. “And besides, you’ll probably think better of it at the last minute if I don’t go with you.”

The bell sounds deep within the house and the door is opened. A young butler peers out at them through suspicious eyes.

“Is Lady Lilith at home?” Bram inquires in his most confident voice.

“Is Her Ladyship expecting you, sir?”

“No. She is not. I have something to give to her. Something that belongs to her and was lost. I have come to return it.”

The butler frowns. Perry springs forward, proffering his calling card.

“Peregrine Smith. Would you be good enough to tell Lady Lilith myself and Mr. Bram Cardale are here and hope very much she will receive us?”

The butler takes the card and, reluctantly it seems to Bram, admits them into the hallway. Perry lets out a low whistle and hops about examining portraits and objets d’art.

After what feels like an interminable wait, Lilith appears at the top of the stairs. Bram is aware of his pulse quickening, and his mouth becoming nervously dry at the sight of her. He cannot recall a woman ever having the effect upon him that Lilith does. She descends the stairs, her simple black dress showing off her tiny waist and accentuating how tall and slender she is. Her hair is secured in a loose bun today, which nestles in the nape of her long neck.

Remain calm, Bram tells himself. If she only glimpses the strength of my desire for her she will more than likely be frightened off.

“Mr. Cardale, Mr. Smith, what a pleasant surprise.” She greets them formally, but warmly enough, Bram thinks. The butler remains a few paces off like a sturdy guard dog, on the alert for the first hint of trouble.