“Two footmen having the same coloring and height is just a coincidence. Why do you care so much, Broderick? Thinking of setting up one of the maids as a flirt for yourself?”
“My lord! I would never—” He broke off as the door opened.
Sinclair grabbed for the sheet to cover his bare leg. Broderick brushed his hand aside and continued the massage.
“You sent for me, my lord?”
Sinclair forgot about the throbbing pain. Quincy stood in the doorway, staring at him, eyes wide, her face flushed to the roots of her hair. Sinclair felt a little heat rise in his own face. Blast Broderick and his conscientious care.
Quincy pushed her spectacles up. “Why did you call me up here?”
Broderick gasped. “You insolent whelp! How dare you—”
“Enough, Broderick. Mr. Quincy is justifiably upset at being inte
