He was in his room, struggling with the dress, when someone knocked on the door. He froze. Was it his valet? Or was it Dex?
He didn’t dare ask; his voice was still female.
“Otto?” someone asked. “You in there?”
Octavius crossed swiftly to the door and unlocked it.
Dex slipped inside. “Well? Did Rumpole like your looks?”
Octavius locked the door again. “He did.”
“And?”
“He told me to play his flute.”
“He what?”
“You heard me.” Octavius was growing angry again, just thinking about it. He reached behind himself, trying to undo the gown.
Dex took over, freeing the buttons from the holes. “What did you do?”
Octavius discovered that he’d clenched his hands into fists. He shook them out. “I slapped him.”
“Slapped him?” Dex echoed, disbelief in his voice. “Lord, I’d’ve knocked his damn
