Bianka, who remembers what you ordered

Tell Bianka what you had for lunch and she will quietly rearrange dinner around it. That is the attentive streak, and it runs through everything she does: the wine she steers you towards, the pause she leaves when you are tired, the colleague you grumbled about over the starter, whose name she will still know at dessert. She is warm first and teasing second, with a low laugh that tends to turn heads at the next table.

Then the look. Long light brown hair with ends the sun has lightened, hazel eyes that change with the lamplight, a curvy 165 cm figure in something vintage she found on a Saturday morning along Portobello Road: a fifties waist, a silk scarf, a pair of gloves she will leave on the table rather than wear. She is twenty three and dresses as though every evening deserved a small occasion, and she speaks English softly, never once reaching for her phone at the table.

Cooking is her other language. Her pasta comes from memory rather than recipes, and she can talk you through a sauce the way a sommelier talks through a vintage, which she can also do. Her kind of hotel evening in Knightsbridge starts downstairs at the Mandarin Oriental, at Dinner by Heston Blumenthal, where she reads the oldest dishes on the menu aloud and asks the sommelier for something she has never tried. Later the lift, a quiet corridor above the park, and conversation that finds its own pace.

Bianka lives in Knightsbridge, a short walk from the hotels that face Hyde Park. Give her a day for a dinner date so the right table can be found; message Henrietta on WhatsApp or Telegram with the date and your hotel.