Come Near Me Read Online Free

attire
rather scanty, although their hands seemed to be drawn into an
attitude of prayer.
    Carpets the shade of clotted blood matched
the blood-red velvet draperies, their oriental design added to only
with vague designs picked out in black and gold.
    The chair Adam sat in, however, was
completely comfortable. Chippendale had been at the top of his form
with chairs, he knew, and this one was no exception, even if its
Chinese style did not appeal.
    Edmund Burnell sat in the chair’s mate,
warming a brandy snifter between his hands and smiling, rather
enigmatically, at Adam.
    “You’re waiting for my reaction, I imagine?”
Adam said, indicating the room with a languid wave of his right
hand, his left fully occupied with its own snifter of dark amber
liquid.
    “Breathlessly,” Edmund admitted on a smile.
His golden hair shone in the candlelight, his blue eyes danced in
obvious amusement. “Damned dreadful, ain’t it?”
    “The hangman’s retreat,” Adam concurred
brightly. “Machiavelli’s inner sanctum. Nero’s music room.”
    “The devil’s den?”
    “Yes,” Adam said, taking a sip of brandy.
“That, too. Are you sure Lady J didn’t have her husband stuffed and
mounted in one of the corners? It’s so dark in here, anything’s
possible. Oh,” he added a moment later, “that was tactless. I know
you address Lady J as your aunt, but whether it is by marriage or
you’re truly her nephew—well, either way, I believe I’ve just
insulted your family. Forgive me.”
    “No harm done, I assure you,” Edmund
answered, sitting back more comfortably, crossing one leg over the
other. “As happenstance would have it, Lady J is mine. I’m afraid I
never met His Lordship. Was he badly oppressed, do you think?”
    “Hounded straight into the grave, I’d
imagine,” Adam said, and the two laughed, then settled themselves
again, staring into the fire.
    It was comfortable, sitting there with
Edmund, a man who was an interesting conversationalist but also
knew when a comfortable silence was preferred.
    Adam and Edmund had spent a most enjoyable
afternoon together, talking of deep things, speaking of nonsense.
They seemed to share every interest, every opinion. With most of
his friends not in town for the Small Season, Adam had been
grateful to have met such a kindred spirit, felt himself lucky to
find a friend to lighten his mood, lighten his days.
    Edmund had delighted the ladies all through
dinner and had thoroughly charmed Geoff, speaking of his travels,
the sights he’d seen, some of the outrageous characters he’d met.
It was nice to see Geoff smile, to watch him partake in society
again, even in this limited way.
    Everything would be even more pleasant if
there had never been a Richard Brimley. Because Adam really liked
Edmund Burnell. A few months ago, he would have trusted the man,
trusted his own judgment.
    “It’s a pity your brother had to retire,
Daventry,” Edmund said, as if knowing Adam had been thinking about
Geoff. “Do his legs pain him?”
    Adam frowned as he remembered carrying Geoff
down to the carriage, hearing the echo of his brother’s sharp
rebuff as he had attempted to insist he and Sherry also return to
Grosvenor Square. “No—at least he never complains. Although
tonight’s dinner is the first time he’d been, well, out and about
since the accident. It may have been too much for him. And it’s a
problem with his hip, not his legs, although the result is the
same, as he can’t walk until his injuries heal.”
    Edmund nodded, then rose to fetch the
decanter from the small table he’d set before the fire to warm its
contents. Refilling Adam’s snifter, he sat down once more, steepled
his fingers, and asked, “It was a fall from a horse, I
understand?”
    Adam felt the tic begin its work beside his
eye and drank deep from the snifter before answering. “No. A
curricle accident,” he said as coolly as he could. “A stupid
accident, as are most, I suppose. An idiotic