Free Come Near Me by Kasey Michaels Page B

a man if you can punch him is not
behaving, Chollie,” Adam pointed out, rising to his feet to extend
a hand to Burnell as the handsome blond gentleman approached,
smiling. “Burnell, good to see you found the place. I’d like to
introduce you to my friend, Collin Laughlin. Chollie? Stand up and
say hello to Edmund Burnell. Chollie?” he repeated when his friend
remained seated, and silent.
    “Mr. Laughlin?” Edmund Burnell said, offering
his hand. “It’s a distinct pleasure.”
    Adam watched as he put down his mug and
stood, offering his hand. “Mr. Burnell,” Chollie said, then sat
back down again with a thump. He touched a hand to his waistcoat
pocket where, Adam knew, Chollie always carried his lucky
four-leafed shamrock tightly folded inside a leather pouch.
    “Fingering your shamrock, Chollie?” Adam
asked, trying not to smile. “Don’t tell me you’re getting fanciful
on me. Last time you did that we ended drunk as goats and
sprinkling holy water on our heads so the fairies wouldn’t get
us.”
    His friend glared at him for a moment, then
turned to Burnell. “It’s your pardon I’ll be asking, sir, if I
seemed rude just now. It’s the strangest feeling I had, like I
should know you, but I don’t. Adam? Call for another mug, would
you? Better yet, some brandy all around. Maybe that will open my
brainbox.”
    “If it does, Mr. Laughlin, perhaps you can
then open mine, as I really don’t recall having made your
acquaintance before today. Which is my loss, entirely,” Burnell
said, slipping out of his greatcoat. “Dashed cold out there, by the
way. The sun’s gone to hide behind some very threatening clouds,
I’m afraid, and we’ll probably have rain, or worse, before
nightfall. So glad,” he ended, turning to Adam, “your dear wife and
I had sunshine enough for our drive earlier. I don’t remember when
I’ve last spent so enjoyable an hour.”
    “Two hours,” Adam heard himself say, then
mentally kicked himself, as Chollie was listening much too closely
for his comfort. “And I thank you, as I believe she enjoyed your
company as well. She most definitely enjoyed the roses you gave
her.”
    “She did?” Burnell lifted the glass Alice had
placed before him and took a sip of its contents. “I was lucky to
find hothouse roses. I’ll have to send more around tomorrow
morning, to thank Her Ladyship for her company today.”
    “Yes, that would be nice,” Adam said,
wondering what had happened between Grosvenor Square and Warwick
Street that he had suddenly turned so enthusiastically mean. Sherry
hated roses now, that was clear, even though she had once adored
the gardens at Daventry Court. Was he punishing her, or making sure
she didn’t take the handsome, likable Edmund Burnell in too much
favor? It was a knotty question. “Chollie, did I tell you that Mr.
Burnell is staying in town with Lady Jasper?”
    “Lady J?” Chollie downed the measure of cheap
brandy in one long swallow, smiled at Burnell with some sympathy.
“Now that’s a woman I do remember meeting. Never before met
another woman who could so give me the fidgets. It’s too late,
then, to find yourself some lodgings of your own?”
    “Chollie, Lady J. is Burnell’s aunt,” Adam
said warningly.
    “Is she now?” Chollie, clearly unabashed by
his candor, reached for his mug, chasing down the brandy with a
swallow or two of ale. “Well, there’s no picking your relatives, I
always say. Sew your pockets up tight, Mr. Burnell, or else don’t
play cards with the woman.”
    “Spoken like a man who has sat at table with
my inventive and yet excruciatingly inept aunt,” Burnell said,
laughing. “How badly did she burn you before she gave herself
away?”
    Chollie punched at his glasses, his cheeks
coloring. “I’d rather not say,” he mumbled, shamefaced. “Thought
I’d lost my touch, until that ace popped up from her bodice when
she took snuff and gave out with a healthy sneeze. No place to look
without seeming