Staring at the clock on the mantel, Octavia sipped at her second glass of brandy. Dinner had long since been finished, and Spinton had whisked Beatrice off to the parlor to tell her the happy news. They were still in there, doing God only knew what. At least someone was happy. “Mr. Sheffield is here to see you, my lady.” God, she hadn’t even heard the butler knock. “Show him in.” A few seconds later, North sauntered into the room. He seemed totally unconcerned that he was late. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t agreed on a particular time, he was still late—and he knew it. “Took you long enough,” she remarked once the door closed behind him. He raised a brow, totally unrepentant. “I had business to attend to.” “You always do.” She tossed back the rest of her drink. “How much have you had?” he asked when she went to pour herself another. She didn’t look at him, but instead concentrated on pouring her drink. “Two. Would you like one?” “I think I had better.”
