Maris was pouting again. “Well, I suppose if you can’t attend the house party, we must think of something else to do. You work so terribly hard, Morgan. You need to take care of yourself. And if you won’t, then your friends must do the caring for you.”

Friends? He and Maris weren’t friends. He’d been friends with Luzena. Could he even imagine that kind of friendship with Maris Garrick?

Perhaps. I don’t know. But if I’m to do this, I must find a way. The thought of spending the rest of my life tied to a woman I can neither like nor respect is enough to freeze my blood. Father, Father… what you ask me to do!

Maris still watched him, like a cat waiting for cream. He offered her another hard-fought smile. “You think to spoil me, my lady Garrick?”

More eyelash fluttering. “Well, of course! In fact—”

He was saved from her fawning by the return of their table attendant. “Forgive me, Lord Danfey,” the man murmured, bending low, “but an urgent message has arrived for you.”

Mouth dry, aware of Maris’s ill-concealed pique, he took the folded note. “Thank you.”

“Is something amiss?” said Maris. “Please don’t say you have to go!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, light-headed after a glance at the brief message. Return to the Council chamber. V. “A councillor cannot safely call his time his own. But you should stay, Maris. I see no reason for us both to have dinner spoiled.”

She wanted to complain, he could see it, but she wanted to be Lady Danfey more. So she sighed instead, and offered him an understanding smile.

“I suppose I shall have to get used to these interruptions. Perhaps we can dine again properly another night this week?”

He pushed his chair back and stood. “Perhaps. Let us hope so.” Taking her hand, he kissed it. Perfume breathed from her skin. “I am truly sorry. I’d looked forward to seeing you.”

She smiled again, and for a moment seemed genuinely sweet. Seemed an innocent young girl, disappointed, and not the simpering, calculating woman on the hunt for a lord. Perhaps if he could be sure that was the Maris Garrick he’d be marrying…

“Good night, Morgan,” she said softly. “Whatever calls you back to the Council, I do hope it’s resolved soon and to your satisfaction.”

Nodding, Morgan signalled to their attendant. “See to my guest and her companion. Anything they desire. Tell Harlim I’ll settle with him on the morrow.”

The attendant bowed. “Of course, Councillor Danfey. Good evening, sir.”

Escaped outside to the street, he took a moment to steady himself. For one terrible moment, before he’d read Varen’s note, he’d thought the message was from Rumm. He’d thought—