Come Near Me (21 page)

To Sherry, this was like standing outside a shop
filled with wonders and only being able to see what was displayed
in the window.

Adam called her a Student of Life, and smiled
indulgently when she pleaded with him to tour a local brewery. He
stood by, watching over her, as she sampled greasy gastronomical
horrors hawked by street vendors. He paid for the string of
“pearls” she bought from a small child for the grand price of three
shillings. He pointed out exotic personages strolling Bond Street,
kept a whole day free so that they could visit Astley’s Circus, and
agreed to stand in the stalls at the theater one evening so that
she could join the young bucks tossing oranges at the stage.

It was heaven, or as close to heaven as two people
could get while still earthbound. They played all day, made love
every night. Laughed, kissed, and laughed some more.

Adam cherished her.

She adored him.

Everything was perfect. More than perfect.

~ ~ ~

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you alone for
a space today, darling,” Adam said over breakfast one morning.
“Estate business.”

Sherry was still fairly lost in a happy fog that had
a lot to do with some early-morning lovemaking that had been
especially sweet. “That’s all right, Adam,” she said as she spooned
jelly onto a piece of toast. “I believe I’m capable of amusing
myself for one afternoon. Although I doubt it will be by applying
to Mrs. Clement for a lesson in counting linen. Does it bother you
that I’m such a happy failure in things domestic?”

“I’m devastated, actually,” Adam said with a grin.
“Just think, I could have married Mrs. Clement, the complete
housekeeper.”

“Instead, you chose a silly little girl who’d much
rather watch people walk up and down the flagways than ride herd on
footmen and upstairs maids. I hope you’ve got a good staff,
darling, or else they could all be robbing you blind without my
ever knowing it.” She sighed, knowing she didn’t want him to answer
her next question honestly, “Do you think it’s time I sat down with
Mrs. Clement and pretended to be mistress of this household? I will
admit that, at times, I feel more than a little useless, perhaps
even superfluous. Except that Mrs. Clement wants me to pick menus,
and I haven’t even
heard
of some of the foods she suggests,
much less tasted them. She’s rather disappointed in me, Mrs.
Clement is.”

“You’ll never be superfluous to me, darling. You’re
the most important, most necessary person in my life.” Adam reached
a hand across the table, and Sherry took it in her own, let him
squeeze it. “You’ll do what makes you happy, darling, and that’s
all you’ll do. There’s time enough for counting linens and choosing
menus. For now, you’re to enjoy yourself. Agreed?”

Sherry nodded, biting her bottom lip. There was
something wrong in what Adam said, but she wasn’t quite sure what
it was. Something in the way he treated her, in the way she
encouraged him to treat her. As if they were playing at life, at
love, even playing at being married.

She’d have to talk with Mrs. Clement this afternoon,
sit down with the housekeeper, ask her to explain exactly what it
was a mistress of a London mansion should know. Throw herself on
the woman’s mercies, that’s what she’d do. Adam would be proud of
her, and she’d even be proud of herself. After all, she was a
married woman now. It was time she behaved like one.

“Adam, I—” she began, only to be cut off by a bellow
that sounded much like that of a wounded animal caught in a
trap.

“Daventry!
Where are you, Daventry? Don’t try
to hide, for it’ll do you no good. I swear by the hole in my old
coat, boyo, I don’t believe what Hoggs just told me. Bracketed?
You? What happened? Who held the pistol to your head?
Daventry!”

Adam touched the linen serviette to his lips, then
carefully folded it and laid it on his empty plate. “That would be
one Mr. Collin Laughlin, my love,” he said, slowly rising to his
feet and turning toward the door. His grin was positively boyish.
“Prepare to be hugged.”

“Hugged?” Sherry didn’t believe the man who was just
now bellowing at the top of his lungs sounded much like the hugging
sort.

“Yes, it’s a failing of Chollie’s, although he’s a
good egg for all of that. But Irish, you understand, and with a
flair for extravagant emotional displays when the spirit moves him.
I believe, for my sins, he’s about to be moved. Chollie? In the
breakfast room, man, before you shout the walls down on us.”

A whipcord-thin, bespectacled gentleman about the
same age as her husband suddenly appeared in the doorway, as if
he’d taken a great giant leap from the hallway in order to be sure
his was a grand, startling entrance. His brown hair hung nearly to
his shoulders, unbound and rather unkempt, and his clothes looked
as if he’d run into them on his way somewhere, glad to have met
them but not impressed enough to pay them more than cursory
attention. His nose, rather large, appeared as if he routinely used
it to knock down doors.

His long, thin face split in a truly unholy grin as
he spied Adam, and he leapt at him, fists clenched. The two
exchanged a few blows, none of them actually landing, then the
Irishman gathered a clearly delighted Adam in a bear hug, lifting
the larger man completely off the floor.

“Ah, boyo, but it’s grand to see you!” Chollie
exclaimed before putting Adam down, then grabbed onto Adam’s head
and planted a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek. “Now, where is she?
Where’s this conniving female who tricked my poor boyo into—good
God, man—
marriage?”

“She’s sitting right here, Mr. Laughlin,” Sherry
said, “and enjoying herself very much. It isn’t often I’ve seen
Adam so lost for words. Darling, did Mr. Laughlin squeeze all the
air out of you, or do you have enough left to introduce us?”

“Glory be to God,” Chollie said in awful, hushed
tones, backing his way to the end of the table, then walking around
it to take Sherry’s hand, lift it to his lips. “It’s a vision I’m
seeing, that’s what it is. A vision of loveliness. That hair, that
smile. Hair so glorious there has to be some good Irish blood in
there somewhere. He straightened up, glared at Adam. “You’ve always
had the devil’s own luck, haven’t you, boyo? No need to ask if it’s
a love match, I’m thinking. You both look almost insufferably
happy. Adam? May I?”

“If I said no, would it stop you?” Adam asked,
seating himself once more and reaching for the coffeepot.

“No more than an upheld hand would stop a charging
cavalry regiment. My lady? Would you stand?”

“If I said no,” Sherry teased, winking at Adam,
“would it save me?”

“Not a whit. I must hug you, my lady. My heart
demands it.”

And hug her Chollie did. And pick her straight up
off the floor. And whirl her around a half dozen times, until she
was breathless and giggling.

“I’ll die a happy man now, boyo, having done that,”
Chollie said, falling into a chair once he’d seated Sherry once
more. He pulled out a large white handkerchief and wiped it across
his forehead, then began fanning himself with it. “Now, tell me all
about the thing, if you please. When you met, how you met, when you
were married, why I wasn’t informed, much less invited. Not that
I’m complaining, don’t you know, but a little begging for my
forgiveness wouldn’t come amiss.”

“Please accept my apologies, Mr. Laughlin,” Sherry
said, placing a cup of steaming coffee in front of him. “It was all
my fault, I’m afraid.”

“How so?” the Irishman asked, scooping enough sugar
into his cup to allow the spoon to be stood on end in it.

“I compromised the poor man.”

Chollie stopped in the act of licking the back of
the spoon and stared at Adam. “Poor fellow. That must have taken
all of two seconds’ resistance before he gave in.”

“I was powerless in her hands,” Adam said, spreading
his own hands, then sighing deeply. “Bewitched, Chollie. Why, I’m
under her spell still, nearly a month later. Have you no pity for
your dear friend?”

“Not a lot,” Chollie said consideringly, then
grinned at Sherry in a way that somehow made the thin, scraggly
Irishman look like a cheery, chubby leprechaun. “Not just a love
match, but two completely besotted creatures. You will let him out
to play from time to time, won’t you, my lady? Either that, or take
pity on this poor man and allow him to hang on to the fringes of
your lives? I could land in trouble otherwise, if left to wander
the Season on my own. I often do fall into bumblebaths, don’t you
know.”

“What Chollie’s trying to say, my love, is that he
gains his greatest pleasure in punching and otherwise pummeling his
fellowman. He considers it good sport. Isn’t that right,
Chollie?”

Chollie dropped his head onto his chest,
dramatically spoke into his badly tied cravat: “They won’t let me
in Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Saloon anymore, blast their hides.
Playing at the fancy, dancing around, barely landing a blow—what
sort of sport is there in that? Give me a man good with his fives,
a jolly nosebleed, a split lip, a bruised eye. Knock me down, get
me up, knock me down again. Ah, there’s the life.”

Sherry was fascinated. “You enjoy being knocked
down, Mr. Laughlin?”

“Chollie, please, m’darlin’ girl, if your husband
doesn’t call me out for being so familiar. And to answer your
question, I don’t mind being knocked down. As long as I get to do
some knocking down of my own. Remember Simpson, Adam? Bled like a
stuck pig when I broke his pretty nose for him. Ah, it was a grand
sight, that, just grand.”

“Are you in town for the rest of the Season?” Adam
asked, changing the subject just as Sherry was about to ask if Adam
had ever knocked a man down, made him bleed.

“That I am, boyo, that I am,” Chollie said. He
finished his coffee and stood up, bowing to Sherry. “It’s a fine
time we’ll be having, too, I’m thinking. A rare, fine time, my
lady.”

“Sherry,” she corrected, offering her hand, which he
kissed yet again. “But please don’t rush off. Adam has a meeting
with his solicitor in a few minutes, and I’ll be left to my own
devices until at least three. Isn’t that right, darling? Perhaps
Chollie and I can take a drive, if he’s free, then join us for
dinner?”

“So that you can ask me dozens and dozens of
questions about this naughty husband of yours, and what he was like
before you met him? I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Nothing too shocking, Chollie.” Adam warned,
excusing himself and heading off to his meeting. “Remember, my wife
is a lady.”

“No, Adam,” Chollie called after him, “she’s an
angel. She’d have to be, to have taken you on. Since it’s too late
to warn her off, and put in a good word or two for myself, I
suppose I can sing your praises a bit. It’s a hard job I’ve put
before me, but you must have a redeeming quality or two, boyo.
Could you be giving me a hint as to one I might mention?”

“I haven’t beaten you into a jelly yet. That alone
should qualify me for sainthood.”

“Yes, there is that, boyo, there is that. Sherry, my
darlin’ girl, shall we be off? I’ve just remembered a story about
your dear husband and a certain curricle race that had much to do
with the two of us, copious quantities of imbibed wine, and a
temperamental pair of horses no sane man would ever put in the
traces.”

“Really?” Sherry said, taking Chollie’s arm as they
followed a muttering Adam through the doorway, into the hall, and
most happily consigning Mrs. Clement and household duties to the
back of her mind. “I must say, I never before realized my husband
had such an adventurous nature. Now, please, go on...”

~ ~ ~

Collin Laughlin was a most entertaining companion,
and Sherry spent a happy, laughing afternoon listening to him tell
tales about his fairly singular life as well as a few of his and
Adam’s adventures. She hadn’t thought about her husband as being
the sort to play pranks on his friends, or indulge in silly
curricle races, or spend long nights in low places, drinking deep
and singing sad songs.

There was so much she still had to learn about Adam.
He spent his time entertaining her, so that she hadn’t given much
thought to what he might do, without her, how he had lived before
she’d entered his life. She was younger, with less of a history,
almost no history. Hers was a life just beginning. Adam had come
into his title, had been grown, and moving about in Society, while
she was still learning her sums in the schoolroom.

“What does he like, Chollie?” she asked her new
friend as he tooled his fine curricle through the gate and into the
park for a quick circuit before returning to Grosvenor Square.

“Adam? You, I’m thinking,” Chollie answered with a
wink, “What’s troubling you, darlin’? You’ve got a look so dark on
you all of a sudden I can barely see your pretty eyes.”

This was ridiculous. Sherry barely knew Collin
Laughlin, and here she was, about to tell him things she barely
dared to think to herself. “I—I don’t want to be boring to him,”
she mumbled half under her breath. “It’s well enough here in
London, with all the excitement of the Season, but when the
Season’s over? When we go back to Daventry Court? Well,” she ended,
summoning a bright smile, “let’s just say I don’t know that Adam
will have so much time to devote to me then, or want to, for that
matter.”

“And are you wanting to be joined at the hip day and
night then?” Chollie asked, tipping his hat to a couple in a
passing vehicle. “Sounds uncomfortable.”

Sherry shook her head, knowing she wasn’t being
clear, wasn’t expressing herself well. “I know nothing of politics,
Chollie. I like paintings, and the theater, and good books, but I
don’t know why I do, or believe it necessary to commit lines of
Shakespeare or Milton to memory. I know nothing of running a single
household, let alone a mansion in London or Daventry Court. And
there are other estates, I’ve been told. I don’t even know the
names of those, or where they’re located.”