What Leander wanted to do when Julien’s coach brought him home was crawl into his bed and never emerge again, but he refused to let himself be that cowardly. Instead, he decided he would go out for a walk. A very long walk. A walk so long that it left him too tired to think about anything.
After changing his clothes, he set out, prepared to walk all afternoon if he had to. The weather suited his mood—cloudy and gray—and the fog was unnaturally thick for the daytime. Or perhaps it only seemed that way because he’d been in the country and away from London’s murky air for a few days.
When he got to Oxford Street, he turned east, walking at a fair pace. He was still turning over the morning’s events in his mind when he reached Marylebone Street nearly a mile away, so he kept on walking.
If
