Lilith awoke the next morning to the sound of Mary's voice. It roused her from a dream in which she had been soaring high above the earth on a pair of broad wings. As she woke, the warmth of the sun on her feathers changed the the snugness of the blankets and the cool breeze that had sprung up to the robotic fingers prodding her shoulder.

"Madam, it is six thirty am," the android was saying, shaking Lilith's arm as she bent over her. The android was having to be a bit more forceful than usual, as exhaustion made sleep very unwilling to release Lilith. With some effort, Lilith opened her eyes to see sunlight making its way weakly into the room, stealing in through the wide window, muted by the clouds.

"Thank you, Mary," she said, and pushed herself into a sitting position. Mary was by her side in an instant. She slipped Lilith's silk dressing gown - a fine piece of fabric in red - over her mistress's shoulders. Then she followed close at Liliths elbow as she circled across the room and glanced first out the window and then, tracing her steps back with precision, towards the bathroom.

Lilith made her way to the enormous bathtub and stood with her back to the android. Lilith could feel the long digits on the end of Mary's seven-fingered hand brush her back as the android maid slipped the silk dressing gown off of Lilith, leaving her standing naked on the smooth tiles.

Lilith rolled her shoulders and stretched until the sinew of her back ached. While she rolling her head slowly, trying to work out a particularly stubborn knot in her neck, she held out her hand and Mary placed a small cup full of oral cleaning fluid. Lilith downed it, rinsed her mouth, and spat into the basin Mary was diligently holding out for her.

"Thank you," said Lilith.

"A pleasure, madam," said Mary, inclining her featureless head.

Lilith nodded and stepped into huge white bathtub across from her. It was already full of water, filled so high that it reached even Lilith's knees when she stepped into it.

"Give me today's news, Mary, if you would," said Lilith as she slipped into the hot water. Immediately, she closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the water curl about her, sinking through her skin and into her flesh. She gave a soft sigh, pleasure at the sensation of that warmth leaving her breathless for a moment.

While the android began to recite the day's news in her pleasant, flat, voice, Lilith reached for the soap Mary had laid out along the edge of the tub. While she was scrubbing her skin, she listened to the news.

After that Lilith stood and allowed Mary to towel her dry, holding her arms out and standing naked with no shyness before the maid as she rubbed the moisture from Lilith's skin. Once that was done and Lilith clad once again in the silk dressing robe, she turned to Mary. The android was standing at attention beside her, the towel thrown over her forearm.

"Lay out my black and white Dior, please," she instructed Mary, who bowed her head. "And my matching hat. I'll also need Simon to fly me to Ascot today."

"Right away, madam," said Mary.

"And have Peter meet me in the drawing room," she added. Lilith was nearly certain that she would have to dispose of young Mr. Crowley today. Based on Christopher's mood the previous night, Lilith suspected that Aidan would be joining the miserable ranks of Christopher's discarded lovers.

"Yes, madam. Is that all, Mrs. Farrar?" asked Mary.

"Yes, thank you. You may go," replied Lilith, waving to the android.

"Yes, madam," said Mary, and she left Lilith alone. She, like the other servants, moved absolutely silently and so Lilith watched as her android maid ghosted her way out of the bathroom and out of Lilith's room altogether.

Lilith meandered back into the bedroom. She would not be disturbed again until she arrived at the drawing room. The androids had learned in whatever way robots could that when she dismissed Mary from her room she would only want to see them again at her leisure in the drawing room.

She knew that she would risk no interruptions from Christopher, either. He would be either asleep or occupied with the young man for some time. Anyway, he never intruded in her bedroom, either.

So she went about her morning toilette with care, as she always did. She doted on her appearance, not only for the benefit of a public poise, but for what it meant - her appearance was an art, crafted expertly and meticulously.

It was at eight o'clock precisely that she entered the parlour. She hadn't bothered to dress. The Dior and its hat were elaborate - as was the custom for Ascot, a throwback to the Victorian dress style at the original Ascot - and she preferred to stay out of them as long as possible.

When she entered, she found Peter and Simon waiting for her. Doubtless they had been there since she had sent Mary away, but androids could hardly mind the time spent waiting.

"A cigarette, please," she said to Peter, and she sat down in her favourite armchair. She waited until Peter had lit one for her. Then she inhaled, exhaled, and spoke.

"Now, Simon, please give me the details of Mr. Farrar's interaction with his guest," she said.

"Mr. Farrar had no interaction that I was able to witness, madam," said Simon politely.

Lilith paused, her cigarette hanging from her fingers as she turned her entire attention to the android chauffeur. "What do you mean?" she snapped. For the android to have ignored Christopher was perilous - she needed the evidence of Simon's eyes to make her judgment on how to proceed. Besides, had the android gone blind? Deaf? Was the damn thing faulty?

"Mr. Farrar did not bring a guest home in the hovercraft, madam," said Simon, as though he wanted to dispel any of Lilith's suspicion about his functionality. "And so I could not observe any interaction."

"Did the guest come here some other way?" she asked aloud, and then turned her eyes to Peter.

"No, madam," said Peter, bowing his robotic head in a show of demure submission. "Mr. Farrar did not entertain a guest last night. You, Mrs. Farrar, and Mr. Farrar were the only two occupants last night after his Lordship left."

Lilith's brow creased with a small frown. She wondered if something had gone wrong in Christopher's seduction. The idea troubled her, but that was not the reason why she pushed it from her head. Christopher was a predator, some unerring hunting animal, deadly and efficient and utterly impossible to best. If he had wanted the young man, he would have had the young man.

No. The reason why Aidan Crowley was not with them was because Christopher did not want him there, for whatever reason that was. It was not Christopher's will that Lilith doubted, for her husband's will was law with everyone he met, but the reason behind it. Why Christopher had chosen not to bring him was Lilith's concern.

"Peter, tell Thomas that I would see my husband at his earliest convenience," she said. This was a new situation, something to which she was not accustomed to dealing with.

"Right away, madam," he said.

"Thank you. Now, you both may go," she said, and cigarette in hand, got up. Barefooted against the cold hardwood floors, she went out of the parlour and into the smaller of the two dining rooms. She found Matthew standing next to her place, and, with a smile, accepted a chair as he pulled it out for her.

"Please bring me my tablet, Matthew," she added once she was seated.

"Right away, madam," he said, and was back in a few moments with her tablet in his hand. She nodded with thanks and, taking a sip of coffee, gave a snap of her fingers. The small tablet came to life instantly, a holograph springing into the air and querying in the mainframe's voice what it was she would like.

She requested information on Mr. Crowley, but had very little time to research Mr. Crowley as the door opened and in walked someone who had a much louder step than the androids.

Lilith's fingers, tangled in the blue holograph, were scrolling through Mr. Crowley's career history - in AI, apparently - and looked up to see Christopher meandering into the room, attended by Thomas, his personal valet. With a flick of her fingers she obscured the information she had been reading and then laid the tablet aside.

"You're up early," she observed as he threw himself down into a chair across from her. "And you're dressed."

Christopher smiled as Matthew, who had appeared at the table, poured him a cup of coffee "Surprised, Lilith?" he enquired. His eyes were bright and he looked well-rested, a handsome blush in the cheeks that were usually so wan before noon.

"Astonished, I assure you," she returned, genuinely surprised at the fact that he was awake so early.

Christopher laughed.

"I was wondering if you could tell me about Mr. Crowley?" said Lilith, laying aside her tablet and picking up a strawberry that was sitting in a bowl before her. She rolled it around between her fingers for a moment before placing it in her mouth.

"What, you want personal details?" said Christopher, a frown creasing his alabaster brow. She knew he did not like to be asked about his lovers. She would not have done it had it not been a necessity.

"Of course not," replied Lilith. "I doubt you'd remember them, either."

"Do you exploit any opportunity to be cruel to me, Lilith?" Christopher retorted, laying a hand over his heart and pretending to look wounded.

"Not to be cruel, simply to be honest," she said before continuing. "What I would like to know is why he's not here in the house today, and if I'll need to find him and get rid of him."

"I shouldn't think you need to do anything, Lilith," said Christopher, giving a little smile.

"Oh?" she said, and it was a challenge, as it was her place to decide whether or not she had to clean up after Christopher, not his.

"I fucked him at the party and he got rid of himself," said Christopher. His eyes flashed and his hand, wrapped around the china teacup, clenched. He looked angry, but Lilith suspected it was lust instead. His eyes glowed and his lips curled with a smirk. "He just stood up after we were done and started blubbering. Then he begged me not to tell anyone and ran out. It was pathetic, really."

"You fucked him at the party?" said Lilith. She smirked momentarily at Christopher over her own teacup. "You didn't even give him the decency of a bed? You're getting more and more wicked by the day."

Christopher chuckled. "Is that admiration in your voice, my darling?" he asked, leaning forward and regarding her with those blue, blue eyes.

"Admiration? If you can admire selfishness," she replied, setting aside her teacup. As she spoke, she did not meet Christopher's gaze, but instead ran one red nail along the edge of the white tablecloth, leaving a small red streak. "You soar through life, using people and tossing them away the moment you're bored. You have not an iota of sympathy or care for anyone. Your way of taking advantage of people is astonishing in its cruelty. But it is certainly magnificent."

"I will never understand you, Lilith," he said. He was staring at her. He was not smiling. She did not care about that - what she cared about was the look in his eys.

"I suppose that's one of my biggest flaws," she said, regarding him over the rim of her cup.

"Flaws? You are a flawless creature, Lilith. I have never met anyone who could parallel that perfection," he said, gesturing to her. His voice was somewhere between teasing and sincere as he gestured with his knife at her.

Lilith arched her eyebrows, gazing at Christopher. She placed her cup aside and, snatching one from a plate before her, began to shred a croissant into small bits. She ate none of it. "High praise, Christopher," she mocked, her voice sharp with surprise at his words.

"Honesty," he purred. Lilith stared at him in both surprise and irritation. He was using her catchphrase, mimicking her words to turn them on herself. Though when she pleaded honesty it was to account of cruelty; here, Christopher used it for kindness.

So she simply stared down at her teacup. For once, she was unsure of how to handle Christopher; a philanderer, a cold-hearted bastard, a sly and witty fox of a man, a charming libertine - these were things she was expert at dealing with. But here was something else entirely.

After a moment's pause, he went on. "Will you follow up with him?" he asked, picking a scone from off the rack before him. "Do whatever it is you do to keep them silent?"

Lilith picked up her cup once more. "No," she said, after having taken the time to have a sip of her coffee. "I shouldn't think so. I'd imagine that affair with him is all tied up."

"Good," said Christopher.

Lilith got up, putting aside her cup and accepting Matthew's help with her chair.

"Lilith?" she heard Christopher ask when she had nearly crossed the threshold.

"Yes?" She turned about and faced him. Matthew, who had taken up a strange sort of posture behind her back, turned with her.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, and his tone was too polite. Lilith knew Christopher never showed an interest in her life and so wondered why he was asking. He must have had some ulterior motive, for he could not possibly be genuinely interested - likely, this was some new attempt to unnerve her.

"The New Ascot," she said. "I've an invitation to go sit in a box and watch the robot horses race."

"The New Ascot?" Christopher echoed, picking up an apple and tossing it from one hand to the other before turning his face up to regard her. 

"Yes," said Lilith. "Why, are you worried I'll bet? I won't wager a penny of your money."

"I was only curious," he said. His eyes were too wide and too innocent. She didn't think that he even he believed his own deception. After a second's pause, he went on, he eyes narrowed and his voice shrewd. This time, he made no attempt to disguise the fact that it was not aimless curiosity in his voice but something else entirely. "Who are you going with?"

"That's none of your business," replied Lilith. Her tone would have been snappish if her demenour had been anything but serene.

"Only making small talk, darling," said Christopher, and he shot her a brilliant smile.

"Well, then," said Lilith, and she relented and answered: "Henry invited me. He's got a box there."

"Oh, his Lordship?" said Christopher, the contempt in his voice obvious. "I didn't realize Essex was taking you, Lilith." He sneered the title as he always did - which was precisely why Lilith never brought Henry up in front of Christopher.

"I know you dislike him, Christopher, why do you think I didn't tell you before?" she retorted. Again, her tone could have been snappish but was not. This time, however, it was mocking, not serenity, that kept her tone even.

Christopher nodded absently and took a bite from his apple. Lilith, sensing he had more to say, stayed. She was proved correct when he, having chewed and swallowed, spoke once more.

"Will you wear the pin I gave you?" he enquired.

"No. Ascot is formal. I'll be wearing a hat. The attire is black and white for women, grey for men. How do you function in high society when you don't know things like that?" said Lilith, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms as she gazed down at her husband.

"I don't need to know things like that. Why do you think I keep you around?" he retorted, but there was a smile on his face.

"I'm a very expensive source of knowledge of etiquette," she replied.

"But so worth it," he said, and smiled sweetly.

Lilith left without another word.

It was not very much longer before Lilith was in the hovercraft, soaring high above the city. So she sat back in the leather seat and closed her eyes. When sleep threatened to overtake her, she quickly opened her eyes once more. It would do no good to nap on the way.

And so Lilith tried to entertain herself by searching the sky about her for a circling hawk or falcon. She often saw them, and adored to see them soaring; they were such powerful, strong creatures, a race of fierce predators whose formidable members were female. But her keen eyes found not a single raptor with its wings set in a V.

Fortunately, they arrived at Ascot before too long and Simon helped Lilith out of the hovercraft before she dismissed him. She accepted a programme from one of the Ascot androids and then made her way into the throng.

Lilith spotted Henry where he was milling about in the grey and black-and-white crowd. He was very easy to spot. He was speaking to a young woman in an enormous hat with a huge white bow, with so much enthusiasm that he was gesturing wildly. She watched as the young woman eyed Henry appraisingly. Her gaze was admiring, but she was also measuring him carefully. Lilith nearly smiled at how well she knew that sort of glance.

She had taken only a few steps when Henry spotted her.

"Lilith, darling!" he cried the moment he saw her, surging forward to kiss her cheek.

She smiled broadly for public benefit. "Good day, Henry," she said. "I hope you slept well after drinking all of Christopher's Lagavulin?"

Henry grinned. "Fabulously, my dear, fabulously," he rumbled in the plummiest voice possible. Then, taking her by the shoulders and holding her at arm's length, he went on. "I must say, you look simply exquisite today, Lilith."

"As do you," she replied, and Henry did. His dark hair stood out against his immaculate three-piece, dove-grey suit, his entire being radiating ridiculously picturesque English charm.

He laughed and, taking her by the elbow, turned her about to face the woman to whom he'd been speaking. Even Lilith had to admit that the woman was beautiful, what with her shimmering blonde hair tucked under her huge hat and her curved figure.

"Lilith, this is Eve Godfrey," he said, waving at the woman. Lilith frowned internally though did not let the physical expression crease her brow. The name was familiar. "Ms. Godfrey, this is-"

"Mrs. Lilith Farrar, I know," said Ms. Godfrey. Her eyes were wide as she gazed at Lilith. "I'm a big fan of your charity work, Mrs. Farrar."

Lilith smiled, a grin that was somewhere between genuine and put on, so practised that she was sure it was convincing and could even almost fool her into thinking she was happy. "Why, thank you. And call me Lilith. May I call you Eve?"

Eve nodded, her eyes lighting up. Lilith saw that appraising look again and was instantly suspicious. As someone who knew the purpose of friendliness as a mask for machination, she had learned to distrust it in others.

"Ms. Godfrey is a journalist, Lilith," said Henry, his lips quirking in an ironic little smile. Lilith's suspicion rose instantly, and she knew Henry was quite aware of why. She despised journalists.

"Their job is to uncover lies and secrets, Henry," she'd told him over a cigarette one day. "And mine is to keep secrets. They're the enemy to my cause."

But Lilith did not allow her wariness to show on her face. Instead, she simply smiled sweetly. "Are you, Eve?" she asked. "How fascinating."

"I wrote a piece on your work with the EPRC just last year," said Eve. Her voice was enthusiastic. Lilith wondered if she would actually like the woman if she were not a journalist. "It was inspiring."

Lilith smiled. That was why Eve's name had jogged her memory. "Thank you, Eve," she said.

"Is Mr. Farrar with you?" she asked, and a bit more eagerness seeped into her voice. Lilith took a brief pause before opening her mouth to reply. She was treading carefully, as it would not do to have a journalist pursue her husband - that was a disaster waiting to happen.

"Mr. Farrar is not," said Henry, answering for Lilith. "He hates me, and so will never go along with Lilith when I'm around."

Lilith shot Henry a warning glare, before turning to Eve and laughing. "Don't listen to Henry," she said. "He's only teasing. Christopher is really only very busy with work."

Eve did not seem entirely convinced. "That's a shame. I wanted to ask him his position on the new legislation passed by the Council on the embargo on goods from the Indo-Chinese Republic," she said.

"Good heavens, if you want to talk politics, I can introduce you to people with far more sway than a businessman like Christopher Farrar," said Henry. His tone was lofty and so absolutely full of himself that Lilith laughed.

"It's true," she told Eve. "I believe Henry is on a first-name basis with every politician who counts in the world."

Henry smiled smugly, shooting Lilith a smile. With Eve's eyes fixed on Henry, Lilith felt safe to let her face fall into a glower, still unhappy with his jab at Christopher. He was deliberately trying to make her job more difficult.

"Is that true, your Lordship?" she asked.

"It is, Ms. Godfrey, it is," said Henry. When Eve looked doubtful, he laughed, pointing behind her to a man approaching them. "Here, I'll prove it. See that man coming towards us? I had dinner with him last weekend and we've been tremendous friends since we were at the London School of Economics together."

"But that's..." began Eve, and her mouth was open with astonishment.

Even Lilith was apprehensive when she saw who it was. She'd known Henry was friends with the man, but hardly expected to see him at Ascot eagerly making his way over to Henry.

"President John Frye, President of the Western Union," said Henry, and he practically radiated smugness.

"Oh my God," whispered Eve.

Lilith smiled at the President as he stopped by them and the three of them paid their due respects, Henry sweeping down into a melodramatic bow and Lilith and Eve curtsying like the most proper of ladies.

"John, my dear man!" cried Henry, leaping forward and wringing the President's hand with the kind of easy familiarity that could only be attained with close friendship. "I didn't expect to see you here! I thought you hated Ascot!"

The President smiled brightly but the expression looked practised. He and Henry exchanged courtesies before he turned to Eve and Lilith. His eyes lingered on Lilith more than they did on Eve. Lilith knew the President was unmarried - a widower, in fact, with a dead husband, the circumstances of whose death were tragic and somewhat mysterious - and the look he was giving her was more interested than it ought to be, yet she could not ascribe it to the standard interest her beauty provoked.

So when Henry introduced Lilith to the President, she stared him square in the face. She knew that face from photos and media, and had even seen him from a distance when Christopher had been invited to one of his rallies, but that did not compare to meeting him in the flesh.

He was shorter than she'd expected, but with a raw authority she found impressive. The President had a frank, open face crowned with soft-looking white hair, but a pair of blue eyes that held her stare and flashed with bright intelligence.

They were like Christopher's eyes. One look at them and you knew that the person who owned them was a force to be reckoned with. Lilith was not intimidated. Her own gaze was similar in its sharpness and its formidable nature.

"Mrs. Farrar," he said, and shook her hand. His tone was light and pleasant and he seemed to be showing far more interest in her than he had in Eve. "I've followed your charitable work. I have to say the lobbyists of the EPRC are very forceful."

Lilith's eyes met his and she smiled as demurely as she could while keeping their gazes locked. "Thank you, sir," she said. "They certainly try their hardestto get things passed. The High Council can be stubborn, though. They need prodding."

He laughed. "You don't need to tell me that," he said.

Henry had begun to look peevish. Jealous, evidently, as Henry seemed to labour under the delusion that he was the closest thing Lilith had to a lover. Luckily for Henry, Eve seized the opportunity to ask the President how he was liking Ascot. Henry seized this opportunity to whisper in Lilith's ear:

"I meant what I said, Lilith. You look simply divine. Are you sure I can't convince you to elope with me now?"

 "Henry," she shot back in a hiss. "I am not speaking to you, let alone eloping with you."

She heard Henry laugh softly. She ignored him, seeing the President's sharp blue eyes on her once more as he spoke.

"So, Mrs. Farrar, is Mr. Farrar with you?" he enquired, his tone polite. An ordinary person would have thought he was making small talk. But Lilith made her business in acting and deception and lies, and so could spot such behaviour in another, one equally skilled. Her hackles rose immediately. She did not like the interest the President was taking in Christopher.

But she responded with the sweet smile that sat so easily on her face when she needed it and said: "No, Mr. President. He is simply very busy. Besides, he hates Ascot. As someone who owns horses, he doesn't think the robotic ones do their namesakes justice."

The President laughed, his face lighting up as he threw back his head and guffawed. The sound was charming and would have convinced Lilith of his humour were it not for those incisive eyes that came to rest on her once more.

"Well, as lovely as it has been meeting you, I see my lovely aide looking tense," he said, waving to where, a few paces away, a man with dark hair and sweet blue eyes was eyeing the President with an anxious expression. "I suppose I'm supposed to be rubbing shoulders with some diplomat or another. If you will excuse me."

They made their goodbyes and Lilith watched the President carefully as he rejoined his aide.

Something was wrong and she couldn't put her finger on it. Lilith, who was used to understanding everything that went on about her - for her job made her very adept at reading people - was agitated at the President's behaviour.

But, giving a sigh, she turned back to Henry and Eve.

"Shall we make our way to the box, then?" asked Henry, and he offered Lilith his arm. She took it.

"I'm can't come with you, then," said Eve, and she looked a touch sheepish. "I don't have a box. But it was lovely to meet you, Lilith."

Lilith smiled and let her pleasure to be rid of Eve seem like pleasure at their meeting in the first place. "You, too, Eve," she said.

Eve blushed pink as Henry kissed her hand, and then she turned and vanished into the crowd. Lilith went alongside Henry up a flight of stairs and into a small, partitioned room above the track. Two chairs were laid out at the front of it and a bottle of champagne sitting in a cooling bucket in the corner.

The moment they were inside the open-roofed space and high above the spying eyes of the public, Lilith turned on Henry. While he was still smiling down at her, she slapped his face. It was not a slap designed to wound, but made for correction of poor behaviour.

He jerked back, holding his cheek. "I suppose I deserved that," he said, giving a bit of a grimace.

"You did," she replied. Her tone was quiet but unquestionably authoritiative. She would accept no further misconduct from Henry. "Saying Christopher doesn't like you In front of a journalist, are you insane? You know it's part of my job to ensure that people think Christopher likes everyone. Don't you dare do that again."

Henry sighed. "I introduced you to the President of the West Union, Lilith," he said. "Doesn't that make a difference?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Because I could introduce you to even more if you agreed to divorce Christopher and marry m-" he began, eyes lighting up with mischief.

Lilith ignored him, going over to one of the two velvet-cushioned chairs and sitting down. From there, she had a pleasant view of the racetrack, as well as the crowds of people milling about the more common area.

Her keen eyes scoured the crowd until she found Eve standing near the force field that separated the track from the spectators' area. She was recognizable by the white bow on her huge hat, and so Lilith could watch as she conversed with the black-haired man.

"What are you watching, Lilith?" asked Henry.

Lilith's eyes snapped up to him long enough to accept a glass of champagne that he'd poured, before she turned her attention back to Eve.

"I'm watching Ms. Godfrey," she said. And, squinting a touch, she noticed that the man was the President's aide. "And the President's aide."

"Oh, Colm, you mean?" asked Henry. By this time, he'd sat down next to her and lit a cigarette.

"Colm?" echoed Lilith.

"Colm Brightley. That's the President's aide. He's been working for the President for thirty years. He's older than he looks, apparently, because his mother is-" began Henry, but Lilith finished the phrase.

For the name had struck a bell with her, since on of the most prominent members of the EPRC was Colm's mother.

"Nightingale Brightley," said Lilith, and focused more intently on Colm.

"Lilith, you've got that face on again," said Henry.

She turned her head so she was looking at him. "Oh?" she said. She smoothed her features instantly. She had purposely let her mask of pleasant indifference slip in Henry's company. He seemed to enjoy seeing her as the deceptive Lilith, and his pleasure made him far more amiable.

"Yes. That plotting face. What are you thinking about?" he asked, his eyebrows drawn together and his eyes narrowed with a shrewd expression.

Just because Henry was LIlith's confidant did not mean she told him everything; not even the androids did not know all the secrets she kept for Christopher. She could trust only herself with the most delicate of affairs, and had never extended any genuine trust beyond her own mind.

"I'm thinking about how interested Eve seemed in you," she lied, her voice smooth. She practically tricked herself with that lie, and the appeal ot Henry's ego would have done the same for him.

"Were you?" said Henry, and Lilith could almost see him swell with pride. "Well, she's a beautiful woman and, I suppose, drawn in by my charm."

"And your title and your money," Lilith pointed out.

"You make it sound as though those are things I would be disappointed about her admiring," he retorted as he lit a cigarette. When Lilith eyed it, he gave her one, too.

Her lie had worked, for Henry was now so full of egotism that he did not press the matter of her interest in Eve. Instead, he seemed happy to hand her a pair of opera glasses and settle down with her to watch the race.

Lilith, through the lenses that magnified the subject in their crosshairs, admired the robotic horses. She had seen them before, but examined them carefully all the same. Each one was modelled to look vaguely like a horse, with a head shaped like a horse's and four legs ending in hooves, as was regulated by the Racing Board. But everything else was up to the design team of the racehorse.

The one upon which Lilith had her eye trained was whip-thin, comprised of little more than the required mechanics for legs and a neck for balance, with a tiny seat for the jockey, who was a minuscule woman with her hair tucked under her sturdy helmet.

What little of the robot that existed was painted an unassuming shade of grey and the carbon-fibre rods that made up its upper legs remained a dull charcoal. It bore no decoration.

Lilith consulted her programme, which told her that this skeletal creature was Whiplash, a one-year old racer with a few wins to its name.

"What do you think of that one?" asked Henry. He was pointing to another racer. This one was a ostentatious as Whiplash was simple. At least five times the bulk of the slender Whiplash, it was thick through the limbs and torso, and painted in red and black.

Lilith consulted her programme again. "'Hellsbane'," she read aloud. "No wins to its name, Henry."

Henry laughed. "I think Hellsbane's the one to beat. Look at that machine, Lilith," he said, and pointed as it pawed the ground, the jockey astride it grinning.

Lilith could not deny that it was a beautiful piece of technology, by far the most elegant of the racers. "It's pretty, yes," she said, and her ears could distinguish a synthesized whinny emanating from the racer. "But I would put my money on Whiplash."

Henry snorted. "It's flimsy. It's waiting to be demolished, and the jockey along with it."

Now Lilith felt the need to defend her favourite. "Sure, are we?" she challenged Henry.

"Very," he said, gesturing at Hellsbane, which had paced its way over to Whiplash. The two jockeys were exchanging words. The woman looked tense, the man, relaxed.

"Fine. I bet you a thousand marks that Whiplash will beat Hellsbane," she said. It was a challenge, which she knew Henry could not resist. She had the money, if it would be required, from the modest wage Christopher paid her.

He arched one eyebrow, his own eyes alight. Lilith liked that expression, that crafty, calculating one. "I raise you to five thousand for Whiplash to beat Hellsbane. One thousand if Whiplash finishes the race at all."

Lilith nodded her head and Henry, obviously feeling cocky, trained his glasses on Hellsbane again.

The race proved to be short and boring. For Lilith at least, for it was obvious that Whiplash was the one to beat the moment the race began. Whiplash, with his tiny jockey astride him, bent low over the racer's pathetic excuse for a neck, surged out of the gate, practically flying.

Lilith thought she could hear Henry's jaw dropping. And she relished every moment that he sat there, twisting in his seat, urging Hellsbane on. It was no use, however. Whiplash, legs moving so quickly they blurred into one, lead the pack by a considerable margin, leaving the other racers to flounder behind.

When the race was over, Lilith turned her Henry, her eyebrows raised expectantly.

He sighed. "How much was it again?"