It fitted the machinations of the nobles, but Geraint felt that the card was pointing to something else, something more shadowy than a vote on a government bill. As the sense of unease grew within him, he tried to put it aside as he prepared for his appointment with Manchester. He ran a bath while brushing the charcoal-gray Italian suit cut with just the right conservatism and inconspicuousness for the House of Nobles. The scents of ylang ylang, orange blossom, and sandalwood rose with the steam. Geraint rubbed the fatigue from his eyes and began the work of massaging his facial muscles. He felt his thirtieth birthday looming ominously close this morning. Maybe it was the time of life when a man’s thoughts turned to collagen implants.


* * *

"Good. That’s settled.” Manchester was in an affable mood, partly because of his assurance that the government forces he’d marshaled would win the vote, but mostly thanks to a third fine Armagnac having made its way to his grossly spreading gut. "Oh, by the way, old boy, did you get an invitation to the Cambridge bash this weekend?”

Geraint’s ears pricked up. If the earl was referring to some function hosted by the Duchess of Cambridge, he definitely wanted an invitation. Francesca Hamilton was a most attractive woman, still only recently widowed and, most important of all, she was the richest woman in Britain.

"You mean Francesca’s do?” He brazened it out as if he’d known about it all along. A mistake; Manchester frowned slightly, but he was too dull-witted with drink to note Geraint’s over-familiarity. "Don’t know about that. Bloody woman doesn’t have many parties I get to hear about. Never enough drink at them anyway."

“No, my boy, there’s a high-powered meeting of Nobles in Business at the University Arms over the weekend. Starts Friday morning. Seminars and all that sod. Bunch of corporate wallahs behind it all, as usual. Can’t be bothered myself. If you like, take my invitation and I’ll tell the stuffed suits I’ve recommended you instead. I’m off grouse shooting with old Hamish.”



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