A mail coach passed them, three boys riding on top whistling and cheering as the coach left them in a cloud of dust. Not long after, the coach reached a mail stop and Sinclair whistled at the boys as they overtook the coach. They galloped for several minutes. For the first time that day, they were alone on the road, with no traffic visible in either direction. Sinclair slowed the horses down to a walk.
“So your grandmother is Lady Bradwell,” Sinclair said without preamble.
Quincy almost fell out of the saddle. Clarence whickered in protest as she pulled on the reins, righting herself. She’d been hoping Sinclair hadn’t paid attention yesterday. Drat the man.
“That would make Baron Bradwell your previous employer, as well as…?”
“Father.”
Sinclair nudged his horse to the other side of th
