Come Near Me (22 page)

“What do you know, then, Sherry?”

She blinked, for her eyes stung with sudden tears.
“I know that I love Adam with all my heart,” she said honestly.

“But you’re thinking that’s not enough?”

“It should be, shouldn’t it?” she asked as Chollie
laid a hand on hers, gave her fingers a short, bracing squeeze.
“Are you at all superstitious, Chollie? Do you ever think something
is too perfect, and that it can’t possibly be real? Can’t possibly
last? That, just possibly, you didn’t do anything to
deserve
being quite so happy?”

Chollie’s grin was infectious. “Ah, so there is some
Irish blood lurking about somewhere in your past, darlin’. I
thought as much. Happy as can be on the outside, even enjoying
himself a time or two, that’s an Irishman for you. But always sure
nothing will ever succeed, that no good luck will ever last. You
must love my boyo very much.”

Sherry bit her bottom lip, nodded.

“Here you go then,” Chollie said, reaching into his
waistcoat pocket and pulling out a small leather pouch. “Reach
inside, darlin’, and you’ll find two finely folded papers. Each one
has a four-leafed shamrock pressed inside, for good luck, don’t you
know. I don’t need two when one’s enough. You take one, all
right?”

“Oh, I can’t take your good luck, Chollie,” Sherry
protested feebly, even as she longed to tuck one of the shamrocks
up inside her reticule. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

“Darlin’,” he said, leaning closer to whisper his
next words, “I’ve got a drawer full of the things. Never let it be
said this Irishman goes out on the road without a bit of his luck
with him and more at home, waiting. That, and my beads and holy
water and such. Put your faith in God and His church, I always say,
and then make the sign against the evil eye and spit in your shoe
for luck. Ah—” he said, quickly averting his head. “Don’t look,
darlin’, for it’s Lady Jasper heading straight at us. All the
shamrocks in the world don’t work with that one, and no mistake.
Gambles you know, and cheats. Even sat on my handkerchief, not that
it helped the one time I was fool enough to play against her. Here,
we’ll turn off before she spies us out.”

Sherry held on to the seat with both hands as
Chollie all but cut over the grass in his eagerness to avoid Lady
Jasper, and looked back at the woman as her open carriage drove
past. “She appears innocent enough,” she said, turning back to
Chollie, immediately putting the memory of Lady Jasper out of her
head as she asked, “Why would you put a handkerchief on your
chair?”

“To change the fall of the cards, of course,”
Chollie answered in all seriousness. “We were in company, so that I
couldn’t blow through the deck while shuffling for the next deal,
or take a walk all around the table, or even turn my chair about
and straddle it. Strange lot. Englishers. Do some of the silliest
things, like rising at the crack of dawn to chase foxes and the
like, yet look down their noses at serious business like
superstitions. So I was left with sneaking my handkerchief onto the
chair and sitting on it. Which helped not a jot, don’t you know,
because the lady was cheating me all hollow. Worse luck even than
being dealt the Devil’s four-poster bed.”

Sherry was thoroughly intrigued, not to mention
amused by Chollie’s dismissive comment about her papa’s ruling
passion. “The Devil’s four-poster bed? What would that be,
Chollie?”

“The four of clubs, of course,” he told her. “Never
win with that card in your hand, I’m telling you. Not that Adam
believes in any of this, mind you. Should have heard the fuss he
kicked up the night I tried to stick a pin in his lapel before we
played as partners at White’s. We lost, of course, but he wouldn’t
admit it was his fault. There’s a wealth of good sense outside that
boy’s head, don’t you know. Doesn’t believe in luck. Doesn’t
believe in the little people, the fairies who steal you from your
bed to take you off to their fairy forts, or in ghosties or
banshees or none of it.”

“Chollie?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I don’t believe in that sort of thing myself. I
just thought I ought to tell you that.”

He patted her hand. “But you’ll be keeping the
four-leafed shamrock, darlin’?”

She clutched her reticule close. “If you don’t mind,
yes. Yes, I will.”

“I thought as much, darlin’. A bit of luck tucked
away never hurt anyone, don’t you know. After all, it’s only the
Devil’s children who have the Devil’s own luck. It’s shamrocks and
holy water for the rest of us. I could be getting you some beads of
your own, if you want. But it’s just loving Adam that will keep him
happy, to my way of thinking. Just loving him with all your heart.
And now,” he said, falling into a broad Irish brogue, “seein’ as
we’re done with all of that, tell me, darlin’. Is it a sister you’d
be havin’? A female cousin with those same sweet green eyes? And if
you have, would you be puttin’ in a good word for a poor Irishman
in need of his own darlin’ angel now that his best friend has gone
and deserted him for matrimony?”

“Oh, Chollie.” Sherry said, laughing, her niggling
worries banished yet again, swept away by the happiness that seemed
to come to her so easily these days. “Adam hasn’t deserted
you.”

“No, darlin’, he hasn’t,” he told her, serious once
more. “Adam isn’t the deserting sort. A truer friend was never
born. It’s the same with you, darlin’. If you have his love, you
have it forever. So, we’ll not be talking more about the boy being
so foolish as to change his mind, now will we?”

“No, Chollie, we won’t be talking about that again.
I promise.” Sherry leaned over and kissed her new friend on the
cheek. “But I will be counting linens tomorrow, I believe. Just so
that I can tell myself I’m useful. That’s not being silly, is
it?”

“Anything that makes you happy, darlin’, can’t be
the least bit silly. Now, how about we get shed of the park and
I’ll introduce you to some of Gunther’s best ices? Has Adam treated
you to one yet?”

“No, I can’t say as he has. Are they delicious?”

“Ah, shame on Adam, stinting on your London
education this way. What is Shakespeare, compared to a Gunther ice?
It’s a taste of pure ambrosia, darlin’, that’s what you’re about to
have. It’s a fine thing that I’ve come to town, that it is. We’re
going to have a splendid romp this Season, darlin’, the three of
us. A splendid romp!”

~ ~ ~

“May I have the pleasure of this dance, Lady
Throgbottom?”

Adam smiled as Sherry turned to him, her head held
high as she peered down her pert nose at him.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, sirrah,” she
said haughtily, then unfurled her fan and began to wave it, hiding
her smile behind the silk-covered ivory sticks.

He raised one eyebrow imperiously. “We haven’t? But
I am Buckfastleigh. Baron Buckfastleigh. I assure you, everyone
knows of me.”

“Baron Buckfastleigh?” Sherry’s green eyes were
dancing with delight. “Yes, I remember now. Impeccable lineage, as
I recall, although country-bred. Your reputation precedes you. Very
well sir. I’ll dance with you.”

“You are too kind, Lady Throgbottom,” Adam executed
an elegant leg, flourishing his handkerchief before holding out his
arm so that they could walk onto the dance floor for the waltz that
had just begun.

“Lady Daventry gives a most delightful ball, doesn’t
she, Baron Buckfastleigh? I do believe I have not seen such a crush
in all of the Season.”

“It’s her husband’s consequence that draws the
masses,” Adam told her as they dipped and whirled, and dipped
again. “A good man, Daventry. And he didn’t stint on anything, as
some do. Good music, good food.” He leaned closer, all but leering
at her. “Good company.”

“Then you’re enjoying your evening, sir?” she asked
as they glided across the floor.

“I’d enjoy it more if you were to accompany me
outside, into the gardens.”

She tipped her head, hiding her blush. “La, sir, but
surely you jest. I am a married woman, and my husband watches me
closely. He’s very jealous, you understand.”

Adam looked down at her, resplendent in ivory silk,
her vibrant hair a tumble of curls threaded through with pearls.
She’d been the sensation of the Season, so popular he’d nearly had
to make an appointment in order to see her of late. Chollie adored
her, all of London adored her. But no one more than he. She was his
dream, his reality, his every wish come true.

Would she be happy back at Daventry Court, away from
the gaiety of the London Season? He’d done his best to make her
life a living fairy tale these past weeks, knowing she deserved all
the happiness he could give her in return for making him the
happiest of men.

“Your husband is the jealous sort, my lady?” His
hand tightened on her gloved fingers. “With great reason, I’m sure.
There’s not a man here tonight who wouldn’t put a knife in my back
to be where I am right now. You walk through a room and leave a
dozen broken hearts in your wake. Never have I seen such a
heartless beauty.”

Sherry’s chin came up as she gave herself over to
the game. “Children. Little boys,” she told him, shrugging. “I
don’t even see them. But you, Baron Buckfastleigh? I wonder.”

“Meet me on the far end of the balcony in ten
minutes, my lady, and put your wanderings to rest,” Adam suggested,
leaning close so that he could whisper the words.

“A kiss stolen in the moonlight? How tiresome. Such
a long Season it has been, with this the last night before my
husband drags me back to the country. And all you offer me is a
stolen kiss? I vow, I kiss in the moonlight so often. Is that all
you can suggest, Baron Buckfastleigh?”

Adam leaned closer, whispered in her ear.

“Oh my. Yes, that is interesting. A fitting climax
to my first Season, I’m sure. But—but my husband? Do I dare? Do you
dare?”

“A pox on the man,” Adam said, curling his fingers
into the small of Sherry’s back, feeling her shiver of response.
“Your blush is most becoming. Have I shocked you, dear lady? Has
your husband never made wild, impassioned love to you in your
hostess’s garden at midnight?”

“Adam, surely you aren’t suggesting—I mean... my
dear Buckfastleigh, you have no idea of my husband’s creative
mind.” She sighed theatrically. “Of course, that’s when he was a
younger man, and more vibrant, shall we say. Now, a pipe, his
slippers, a hound at his feet. This is my husband. I grow so...
restless.”

He stopped near the edge of the dance floor even as
the musicians played on, dropped his hands to his sides before he
abruptly pulled her completely into his arms, kissed her hard on
the lips, and shocked half of the
ton
straight down to their
toes. “Ten minutes, my lady. As we dare.”

Adam watched as Sherry walked away, smiling as he
decided that Lady Throgbottom had quite a nice
bottom.

“That’s the Devil I see peeking out of your eyes,
boyo,” Chollie said, walking up to him and handing him one of two
glasses he carried. “The air is so thick with whispers that I
nearly had to fight my way over here, gasping for a breath that
didn’t include swallowing down mention of the two of you. Shameless
man. It’s not done you know, being so obviously in lust with your
own wife. It’s surprised I am the poor child hasn’t melted under
your hot looks. And that kiss? Boyo, it’s proud of you I am, and no
mistake.”

Turning to look out over the dance floor, and seeing
more than a few interested stares and dropped jaws, Adam muttered,
“Perhaps, Chollie, if you were to yell
fire,
all these
tiresome people would go home, and leave me alone with my wife. You
could lead them out.”

“Adam?”

Adam turned to see his brother Geoffrey approaching,
wearing a grin so wide he knew the young man had something wicked
to say. “What is it, Geoff? Have you been complimenting Miss Wicks
on her bosoms again? Just because she nightly puts them on display
is no reason to believe she won’t take offense, go running to her
brothers so that one of them pounds you into the ground, then
forces you to propose marriage to the silly chit.”

“Sally Wicks parades her bosoms more often than fair
England shows its colors, Adam, and I’m probably the only man in
Mayfair who hasn’t seen her gown at half-mast,” Geoff answered,
then winked. “Although tonight may just be my lucky night. As to
her brothers, they want nothing to do with her. Why, Barry Wicks
told me himself that his sister has a child tucked away somewhere
in Somerset, if you can believe it. Why else do you think she’s set
her cap at old Carruthers? Seventy if he’s a day, and her last
chance at respectability. Speaking of which—”

“Here we go, boyo,” Chollie whispered, “the
libertine about to give a lesson in prudity. This will be as good,
don’t you know, as hearing the Devil give a sermon on the evils of
pride.”

“Adam,” Geoff said, shooting a quelling look at.
Chollie, “do you have any idea what a spectacle you’re making of
yourself this evening? This is your ball, you know, and you’ve
spent the entire evening ignoring your guests and casting calves’
eyes at your wife. No less than five gentlemen have pulled me
aside, begging me to make you stop, as their own wives are suddenly
demanding similar attention. Lady Winslow went so far as to stomp
into the card room and drag Lord Winslow out of there by his ear.
They’re waltzing now, and a more pitiful sight I’ve ever to see.
The man dances as if he’s got a pole stuck up his—”

“Point well taken, Geoff,” Adam broke in as Chollie
went into whoops of laughter. “It’s obvious to me that you’re much
more sober than I. So, seeing that you, too, are a Dagenham, you
have my permission to take over as host for the remainder of the
evening. I may return in time to stand at the top of the stairs and
wish everyone a good riddance. Then again, I may not.”