Octavius lingered in the upstairs corridor until Dex was long gone, then he crept down the staircase. The female clothes were unpleasant to wear—the constriction of the stays, the nakedness of his loins. Damn it, he ought to have bought a pair of boy’s drawers before leaving London. The airiness around his nether regions was extremely disconcerting. All someone had to do was flip up his skirts and he’d be exposed.
How could women bear to walk around like this?
The door to the billiard room was ajar. Octavius peeked in and saw Dex and Newingham.
He backed away and went in search of the baron. Rumpole was no longer in the dining room. He’d moved to the library, where he was pouring himself another glass of port.
Octavius watched from the doorway as Rumpole pushed away from the sideboard
