Geraint frowned slightly, dumped a pile of papers on the table and smoothed back his dark hair. He fussed over the gold fountain pen in his pocket, sighing in frustration. It hadn’t been a good morning, and to top it all he’d returned to find a missive waiting for him that was definitely unwelcome. The Earl of Manchester’s personal secretary regretted that Lord Powys was unable to sit in on the committee stage of the Gwynedd Demarcation Bill next week, and since a trustworthy and reliable Welshman would be needed . . .