me thinking that business relating to Londinium was supposed to be raised at the Court. I have the feeling you prefer to discuss politics without women present, though.”
“The complexities of running a city can only be truly understood by the male mind, madam. It’s better suited to problem solving.”
She looked pointedly at his groin. “If you have a problem that can only be understood by a man, perhaps a doctor would be a better person to confide in.”
A small patch of red flared across his pale cheeks. “How dare you imply—”
“I do hope that whatever ails you improves soon, and that the Duke and I will see you at the next Court.”
Bertrand stepped towards her, the half cape of the coat making him seem even taller and broader. “The Duke of Londinium is a fine man, and I am constantly impressed by his ability to rule in such difficult circumstances.” She could smell aniseed on his breath. “Though I do think he could benefit from some advice regarding wives and boundaries.”
“I hardly think you’d be the most qualified to give it,” she replied, having to crane her neck to look up at him even though she was standing as tall and straight as she could. “After all, the Duke isn’t the kind of man who would gag his wife with a Charm because he can’t cope with her having an opinion.” Cathy watched his nostrils flare and knew she’d gone too far. “Yes, I guessed. There’s no other explanation for the gulf between the man she speaks of and the man I’ve actually met. Why don’t you prove me wrong by lifting it from the poor woman?”
“You are simply the most dis—”
“Your carriage is ready, your Grace,” Morgan said, and Bertrand stepped aside, unwilling to cause a scene in front of the staff.
“The sooner you realise how unnatural your behaviour is, the better,” Bertrand said as she passed him to go out. “For all of us.”
Cathy tried to think of a retort, but the moment passed before she could. Once he’d stalked off towards Will’s study she realised how much she was shaking. She looked at Morgan’s concerned expression. “Don’t worry, Morgan. One more enemy isn’t going to make a whole lot of difference, is it?”
“I fear it isn’t the quantity you’re acquiring, your Grace, rather the quality.”
She headed for the carriage, hoping she’d managed to cover her mistake. She wasn’t sure who’d come out of that encounter as the victor, but at least she knew that Bertrand wouldn’t be at home when she arrived at his house.
• • •
Sam had followed Mazzi and the guide that greeted them at the visitors’ centre down into the caves under the Forest of Dean. He’d skidded down slopes, knocked his hard hat against uneven rock, and gazed across a cavern with an underground pool. He felt fantastic.
At first he’d thought it was just the change of scenery after being stuck in his study, drafting that email to Copper. But as they went deeper into the old mine, he suspected there was something more. Every now and again, Mazzi would twist round to check on him, reciprocating his excited grins with broad smiles as the guide chattered to them about the long history of the place and the ochre that was still being mined there.
“This is as far as we can go on the tour,” the man said eventually.
“Could you give us a few minutes before we go back?” Mazzi asked, and the man nodded.
“I need to check on some safety rail repairs, seems as good a time as any,” he said, and left.
Mazzi came to Sam’s side, leaning against the same outcrop of rock. “Well?”
Sam tried to put it into words. “I feel…brilliant. Like I could run a marathon or climb a mountain. Not just a physical thing…like I could do that and write the most amazing code at the same time. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this.”
She nodded.
“You knew I’d feel this way,” he said. “Did Amir like it here too?”
“He did. It’s how I felt when I visited Ravensthorpe in Australia.”
“A nickel mine?”
She nodded. “I don’t feel it here. If I’d just told you this is how you’d feel here, you’d never have believed me, right?”
“Right.”
“This is what makes you one of us,” she said with certainty. “We all feel this, for our own elements. None of the others really talk about it. Copper thinks this feeling is all about the numbers, the tonnes being extracted