Chapter 13
“Sinclair, so good to see you,” Sir Leland called as Sinclair strolled, unannounced, into his study the next morning. “Care for some sherry?”
“No, thank you. Just need a respite. I hoped your household might be a little less topsy-turvy than mine at the moment.” He settled on a sofa that looked a little worse for wear. The Turkish carpet beneath his feet was threadbare in places, but it was a carpet. The only floor covering in Quincy’s flat had been a scrap before the fireplace, covered with cat hair.
At Leland’s raised eyebrow, Sinclair told him about the latest changes in his staff.
“Another match! Oh, this is wonderful! And twins, you say! Wait until I tell Palmer!”
“It’s not that funny, damn it!” Sinclair grinned in spite of himself. He started to speak again, but heard
