Apparently if newsletters are to work, I have to empathise, get all your reading ducks in a row, and have a story that will have you laughing and weeping into your Sunday roast. And I do. It involves double-barrelled literary agents, the Ivy restaurant in London, and the second son of an Earl of the realm. But more of that later. Relax, I’m not going to go Full disclosure, yet. So breathe out, and read on.