The Marquess did step out a few moments later. Quentin, as he ever was when not on expedition, was dressed impeccably. A bespoke suit from a tailored on Saville Row it was a fine three-piece affair in light grey with white pinstripes, complimented by a pair of oxford cut shoes, and today he'd chosen to eschew an ascot or tie in favour of an open collar. Combine that with a smooth clean-shaven jaw and well-kempt hair the big man was looking quite spiffing.

Whitby had become a surprisingly regular port of call for him since he'd become betrothed to Claire. The young American Heiress had rather set up shop in the quiet little country town and he couldn't blame her for it. He actually preferred Whitby to the hustle and bustle of London. To the extent that he was thinking of buying property in the town and having it be his primary residence when they weren't out exploring the world. Finding a young woman who actually wanted to travel had been unexpected but a delight for Quentin.

Turning he starts down the street checking his watch as he does so. He had a meeting coming up in about an hour or so and then dinner with Claire later that evening. Tucking it away he debates between returning to his hotel to freshen up or to take an amble about town.