I’d have expected Ellen, sharp as she was, would’ve seen that. She was quick enough with her advice on how best to manage men. It was something she prided herself on so I let her have her say. She didn’t know about Eustace and that I’d sworn I’d never fall in love again after him.

Like all oracles, Ellen rarely followed her own rules. ‘Don’t be available every time, don’t cheek him, don’t sleep with him straight away,’ she’d said to me when Vincent had first shown an interest. I’d nodded along, trusting myself to know what was best, part of me surprised and grateful that any man could inspire some affection from me, but there was one rule that we agreed on – never get pregnant. Ellen said it would be the fastest way to lose Vincent’s favour, but I had other concerns. A baby would mean being dismissed from my job and I wanted more for a child of mine than to be raised in St Giles, always worrying about where the next meal was coming from. I loved Mrs Bradley, the woman who had brought me up, but I still believed that a baby’s place was with its mother.

My musings had taken us more or less the whole way to Crillick’s house. It wouldn’t be long before we were inside in front of a roaring fire. As it had got later, it had grown chillier. I burrowed my hands deep into my pockets and felt Lucien’s card, rubbed a finger along its rounded corners. The wind was strong. I imagined myself taking the card out, holding it lightly between my fingertips, and letting the wind take it away. But I didn’t do it.

Crillick kept his home at 25 Northumberland Avenue. Despite the lateness of the hour, lights blazed from the windows, the servants scrambling to make ready for the early return of their master.

‘Go in, Zillah. I want to check that the carriage made it back.’

Vincent disappeared around the side of the house but, instead of walking up the steps to the front door as he’d told me to, I waited for him. He didn’t think about how strange it would feel for someone like me to use the front entrance, nor the reaction I would get. That I’d be as likely to climb Ben Nevis as I would the five steps to the black-painted door with its imposing lion’s-head knocker.

Vincent returned smiling, oblivious to my hesitation.

‘All is well. I told Coachman to return to Pascoe’s. As Crillick hasn’t made it home already, I wager he’ll spend the night there and will need it for the morning.’