“Only those who are attacked.” Sinclair turned serious as they sidestepped a vendor with a cart of oranges. “Are you certain you’re all right? No headache, no bruised ribs or anything?”
“Just the bump on my head. I’m fine, really.”
Sinclair rested his hand on her shoulder, a comfortable and comforting weight. “You must sometimes do things that Miss Quincy would never consider, but I would hope they are never foolhardy risks.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze before letting go. “In some ways, Mr. Quincy is in even greater danger.”
Quincy swallowed hard, touched by his concern. “I never indulge in impulsive behavior, my lord.” She was scrambling for a topic to steer the conversation into shallower waters when they heard his name called out.
“Sinclair, well met!”
“Leland, Palmer,” Sinclair
