Free Come Near Me by Kasey Michaels Page A

was Ireland?”
    “Still there, still oppressed by you bloody
Englishers,” Chollie answered with a wink. “It’s thinking about
mounting a rebellion I am, except that there’s forty thousand
others thinking the same thing and all of them wanting to lead the
parade, so that we fight more amongst ourselves than we do against
the rod lying over all our backs. So we drink, and we sing sad
songs and wipe away a tear or two, then go back to drinking some
more.” He shrugged. “It’s hard, boyo, being Irish. Very wet work.
Alice! Another round, darlin’, if you please!”
    Adam knew that Chollie’s banter hid a
melancholy heart, and he only nodded to his friend, then picked up
his new mug and drank deeply. “This place is falling down,
Chollie,” he said, looking around the taproom after wiping his
mouth once more. “I wouldn’t be surprised to see it gone next time
you come to London.”
    “True, true,” Chollie answered, sighing. “But
this lovely hovel has such a lot of Ireland about it, don’t you
know. I’ll miss it.” He noisily blew his nose, then rubbed at his
moist eyes.
    “You know what I think, Chollie?” Adam said,
as Alice automatically replaced their mugs with new ones. “I think
that for a race that says being born is a curse, you’re still
mighty glad to be Irish.”
    “Not a curse to be born, boyo, a disaster,”
Chollie said, putting away his handkerchief. “Being born’s a
calamity, marriage an anticlimax, and death looms ahead as a happy
release. Nothing an Irishman loves better than a bruising good
wake, don’t you know. And speaking of marriage, boyo, how’s that
angel bride of yours? Couldn’t be prettier if she was Irish.”
    Adam stared into the bottom of his empty
mug.
    “Oh-oh!” Chollie said, tipping his head to
look at Adam. “I’m not liking that dark cloud I’m seeing over your
head all of a sudden. What happened, I’d like to know. Last time I
saw you, boyo, you were so full of April and May, the two of you.
What did you do wrong?”
    Adam lifted his head, smiling slightly as he
looked at his friend. “What makes you think I did something wrong,
Chollie?”
    “Just stands to reason, I suppose. Being a
bachelor boy as long as you were, and all of that. You gave up that
skirt in Covent Garden, I’m supposing, so that can’t be it. You did
give her up, didn’t you?”
    “I never had a skirt in Covent Garden,
Chollie,” Adam reminded his friend. “That was you, remember?”
    Chollie pushed up his spectacles so roughly
Adam was surprised he didn’t knock himself over. “God’s eyebrows,
so I did! Lovely little colleen, with a wonderfully wicked way
about her. I wonder if she’s forgotten me. Lovely little colleen.
And is it remembering her name you’d be, boyo, seeing as how I
might need to know that if I think to go back to see her
tonight?”
    “Sheila,” Adam provided obligingly, grateful
to have the subject of his marriage abandoned for the moment. “But
before you go running off to buy your way back into her good graces
with some pearls or whatever, I ought to warn you that a friend
will be joining us shortly.”
    “A friend?” Chollie looked around the
taproom. “Here? Must be Irish. Wouldn’t be another Englisher alive
so little high in the instep as to agree to come to Warwick Lane
for a pint.”
    “Edmund Burnell isn’t at all high in the
instep, Chollie, although he’s definitely English. I’d appreciate
hearing your opinion of the man once you two have met. Ah,” Adam
said, swiveling in his chair and motioning to the man who was
standing in the doorway, removing his curly-brimmed beaver. “Here
he is now. Behave, Chollie.”
    “And when do I misbehave, I ask you? Never
mind, boyo, as a litany of my sins would take longer than it takes
for your new friend to thread his way through the tables. Big one,
isn’t he? Big as you, I’m thinking. You don’t suppose he favors the
fancy? I could do with a bit of bruising about.”
    “Asking