The townhouse that Angelina kept in the capital was not as grand as some of the Noble District's more ostentatious residences but it had a particular quality of warmth that grander houses often lacked. It was three stories of well-maintained brick, with large windows that let in generous amounts of light on the rare sunny days and created a cheerful amber glow from within on evenings when the lamps were lit. The garden at the front was small but well-kept, and the interior had been furnished over decades with the kind of careful attention that reflected genuine taste rather than mere wealth.
Today, every room on the ground floor was occupied.
Pierre and Jennifer had arrived first, having accompanied Jaegar from the DR Press courtyard. They had come through the front door still buzzing with the energy of what they had just witnessed, Jennifer already composing in her head the letter she intended to send to her mother describing the entire scene in precise detail.
