Violetta stands 178 cm, tall and slender, her black hair sleek and straight to the small of her back, her brown eyes unhurried over everything. Early thirties. She dresses with real discipline: black, navy or cream, one line from shoulder to hem, and nothing that competes with the shape of it. She is the most immediately striking woman on this list, and she has long since stopped noticing the second of silence that follows her into a room.

Her English is measured and her manner is formal at first and then not at all. She has a proper laugh, which surprises people, and a sharp eye for pretension in others that she deploys quietly and only to you. She practises yoga seriously, reads poetry without making a thing of it, and has an excellent memory for faces, which makes her very good company in rooms where that matters.

Her SW1 evening is Amaya in Halkin Arcade, the high ceilinged room with the open grills where the food is Indian, precise and quietly spectacular, and the service is attentive without hovering. She sits where she can see the kitchen. She knows the SW1 squares better in the dark than in daylight, and the walk home afterwards through Motcomb Street is short, silent and hers, taken slowly.

She is travelling until 10 October, and evenings after that are being taken. SW1, the arcade and the other women who cover it are on the Belgravia page. Put a date and a hotel in front of booking and the first evening she has will come back to you.

Nothing has been written up under Violetta yet, which is usually what discretion looks like. A note goes on the board only when a client sends one in writing, she agrees to it, and the office has checked that it reads as a first name, a month and nothing private.