Geraint had his chauffeur drop Francesca off at her place, declining her offer of a nightcap. His head was beginning to ache quite horribly, and for once it wasn’t due to either alcohol or smoke. He looked forward to simply being safe and secure in his own home, where he might take some drug to smooth the rough edges. The feeling of queasiness in his guts was still only a forewarning. It was not a vital sign; that was yet to come.