“Ah! Tea! Nothing seems quite so terrible once there is a cup of tea in your hand, eh? Would anyone else care for some?” There were no takers. Tea was generally considered an unpatriotic Gurkish fashion, synonymous with moustache-twiddling treachery. “Nobody?” “I would love a cup.” Finree slipped smoothly in front of the lord governor, obliging him to take a spluttering step back. “The perfect thing in this weather.” She despised tea, but would happily have drunk an ocean of it for the chance to exchange words with one of the most powerful men in the Union.
