Chapter Twenty-Five
Octavius walked for some time, crisscrossing London’s streets and squares before turning his steps towards Albemarle Street and his set of rooms, where he sat down to the next task on his list: writing a letter to his grandparents.
After ten minutes spent contemplating a blank sheet of paper, he poured himself a glass of brandy. It didn’t help. Or perhaps it did, because he decided to stop trying to be concise and unemotional and to just tell his grandparents everything, and perhaps his letter was a little messy and perhaps it was a little effusive, possibly even rhapsodic, but it also told them all they needed to know about Miss Toogood.
That task done, he examined the sword and kites Staig had procured, declared them perfect, and sent the manservant out to fetch th
