It made sense what Vincent said, but if I’d been pulling rabbits out of hats, I doubt that Lucien’s words would have affected me quite so much.

‘Do you think the punters – the audience, I mean – do you think they believe the story about me being from the jungle?’

Vincent yawned widely and I felt his arm snake round my back. His fingertips at the base of my spine were cold and I shivered slightly.

‘Of course they do. They wouldn’t pay their half-shilling to come and see you if they didn’t. You shouldn’t worry. Crillick will make sure your secret is safe. He won’t want it to get out.’

This was true. It cheered me somewhat. My fellow actors might feel little compunction about shopping me, but to do so would mean getting on the wrong side of Marcus Crillick and none of them would want that.

‘You know what I think? I think you’re a princess. Princess Zillah. You cannot deny it has a ring to it.’

He sat up straighter and made an elaborate half-bow. ‘Your Royal Highness, I am your humble servant.’

I blinked at him for a moment; then, seeing the joy on his face, decided to play along. I climbed to my feet, wobbling badly on the down-stuffed mattress. Vincent got to his knees and we clung to one another for balance. Once I was steady, I held out my arm as though it were a sword and touched my wrist first to his right shoulder and then to his left.

‘Arise, Viscount Woodward.’

‘But I am already a knight?’

His tone was puzzled. Had I taken the game too far? I made to sit back down but, thinking my ankles had buckled, he held on to them so I could stay upright.

‘Steady?’ Vincent said.

He was gazing up at me. When I glimpsed the strength of feeling in his eyes, I had to force myself not to look away. The moment stretched and, as I let go of the breath that I’d been holding, his smile broke out again.

‘Now you are one of my knights,’ I said. ‘You will be my private guard?’

‘Madam, it would be my honour.’

Vincent doffed an imaginary hat while I tried my best not to giggle.

‘I solemnly vow to serve you, My Lady.’

He pulled me down so we were both kneeling. He was only a little taller than me and his grey eyes shone with laughter.

‘I beg leave to kiss Her Royal Highness,’ he said.

‘It is granted.’

After he had loved me, we lay in bed and I looked up at the canopy, my eye following the swirls embroidered into the dark green fabric. As soon as Vincent slept, I would douche myself as a precaution, but for now I was content to lie in his arms.