"Um, looks interesting, yes, yes, I thought I’d go. How’s the lovely Tamsin?" It always pleased the rubicund, bloated Yorkshireman to have noble acquaintances praise his fiery and beautiful wife. You poor bastard, Geraint thought, as he always did. She only married you for the money and the title and you don’t even notice that half your male domestic servants walk around with permanent smirks on their faces.