Morgan kept on down the stairs, then paused. “Oh, Rumm. I procured fresh clothes for Mage Lindin.”

“Yes, sir,” Rumm said, his expression rigorously blank. “Jafe saw that I got them, as you asked. The bag’s been put on her bed.”

Hardly a bed. A straw mattress on the floor of the hastily emptied broom and mop closet, which was the only privy place, Rumm claimed, that he could offer at such short notice. Not without crowding the other servants and that he wasn’t willing to do. Not for a bound mage no better than she had to be.

And what Barl would say when she found out was anybody’s guess.

Arriving unexpected at Venette’s town house, he was shown into the ornate parlour by her master servant and asked to wait. Declining the offer of wine and wafers, he contented himself with perusing one of Orwin’s ponderous books.

“Morgan!” Venette exclaimed, sweeping into the parlour almost a quarter of an hour later. She was swathed head to toe in silver-shot mauve silk, violet slippers on her feet and chains of amethysts around her neck and wrists. “I declare I do not understand the game you’re playing. How could you refuse an invitation to the Garricks’ house party?”

Her outrageous demand struck him like spark to tinder. Burning, he tossed Orwin’s book onto a nearby table and took a step toward her. Managed to catch himself in time, before he laid hands on her.

“And how could you, Venette, insinuate yourself into my privy business? You had the temerity to interrogate Barl Lindin? To discuss me with her? What gave you the right?”

“Friendship!” she retorted. “Morgan, you have cast your boat upon perilous waters. Defending that miscreant? Sheltering her in your home? Have you any idea how it will look to Maris?”

Nonplussed, he stared at her. “What I do in my capacity as councillor is no concern of Maris Garrick’s! It would not be her concern were we already ratified man and wife.”

“Which you won’t be, you fool, if you continue with this madness!” Venette threw up her hands. “How can you be so brilliant and so obtuse? Maris has her pride, Morgan. Do you truly think she’ll idly smile and bestow on you her blessing as you insult her in such a savage fashion?”

“How do I insult her? The girl finds me desirable because I am a Council mage. How can she possibly be insulted by the performance of my duty?”

Pale with anger, Venette rushed to him and thumped his chest with both her fists. “Easily! Morgan, it was never your duty to take Barl Lindin under your roof. You did that because she stirs you! And if you think Maris won’t grasp that blindingly obvious fact then truly, I wash my hands of you!”