"I saw the way she measured you, Master." Fear stripped away the carefully cultivated French accent that years of travel had perfected, revealing the Irish brogue. "You have made a bitter enemy."
Dr. John Dee touched the edge of the quill to the ink block, then deliberately etched a graceful looping curl to the end of the paragraph. "I am well used to women taking my measure," he said absently. He dotted an i with a flourish, then dropped the pen to the table. Rubbing his hands briskly together, the spymaster broke off a piece of Venetian cheese from the wedge on the table before him. Its milky aroma...