“You haven’t yet.”

Constance drank from the glass Veronica passed. “Since then,” Constance said with a smoky gleam to her eyes, “I’ve managed to keep my love life and my married life separate.”

“And your being Lady Farnsworth has to mean a lot, Constance-”

“Ah, Veronica. You must understand. There are lords and there are lords. My husband has a title, he is rich-but he’s not among the idle. He really does have a heavy load of diplomatic duties.”

“Least it keeps him away from you.”

“True.”

“And you do have your own independent career to tend, my dear.” Veronica cast her eyes at the small tape recorder. “Working?”

“Trying out first lines. Here.”

She snaggled on the machine.

A crackly version of Constance’s voice chewed out: “I never fuck. I just watch.”

“Omigosh,” Veronica twittered. “That’s delicious, doll. What’s it about?”

“I don’t know yet. I have a lot of thoughts on the cassette now. I should give it to Morrigana and let her figure it out.”

“Yeah, Constance. You’ve done enough work for today. Pack it away.”

“Okay. Talked me into it.”

“Want to take a dip with me?”

“I think not. That kind of exercise doesn’t seem to appeal to me right now. But thanks for the thought, dear one.”

“Yeah, well, anyway,” Veronica said. “I almost forgot. There’s this dude down at the big house waiting to see you.”

“Huh?”

“Morrigana told me when she saw me coming out here. I thought I had his card somewhere with me.” She puzzled her brow. Crinkled her nose. “Where the fuck is that?”

A bright look passed across her face. She reached around to the back of her waist Slid her digits between her asscheeks.

Brought out a mildly moist rectangle of cardboard. Held it aloft. Wafted it under Constance’s nose.

Constance read with utterly no interest to be traced on her face.

The card was embossed in the center with letters of the classic Roman order spelling out the name GRIFFITH POINDEXTER. In the lower left corner, set in small italic type, was the single word consultations.