"Rochester." He said, without thinking. He'd heard of their dinner, and the theatre trip, and seen the way they two looked at each other at the Salon without speaking or acknowledgement. "Sorry." He said, downing the glass again before offering his hand. "I can't imagine her betrothed is going to be much pleased with you."
He sighs then, looking into his empty glass, shaking it and watching the dregs run. "Forget the fucking. Does she still drive you mad?"