11Miles came across Sinclair in the kitchen, the aroma of sizzling bacon irresistible. “Any coffee,” he asked through a stifled yawn.
“I've made a pot of tea, sir.”
“I prefer a cup of coffee.”
“I'll put some water on to boil and—”
“I'll do it.” Miles went to the sink and filled the kettle. “Where's Andrew, still in bed?”
“Mr Andrew is in the grounds, sir. I wheeled him outside as he wanted to spend some time alone.”
Miles grunted, settled the kettle into its base, and turned on the electricity. “Hung over is he?”
“Something like that, yes sir.”
The almost melancholic tone of Sinclair's voice caused Miles to stop and frown. He sat down at the table, pressing his hands together as if in prayer. “You've been with this family a long time, haven't you Sinclair.”
“Almost all of my life,
