Chapter Twenty-Eight
Charles stormed into the drawing room, slamming the door with a satisfying bang.
“Oh! Charles! Must you?” his mother protested.
He hadn’t even seen her sitting there on the sofa. He hadn’t seen his cousin either.
“What are the two of you doing?” he snapped.
“Good afternoon to you, cousin,” Ainsby said amicably.
“No, it is not a good afternoon. What are you doing in my house?” Charles retorted.
“Charles!” his mother protested once again.
“I thought I’d come and see if you were free this evening, but clearly you don’t seem to be up for company,” his cousin said. “Perhaps an outing to Gentleman Jackson’s Saloon would be more appropriate just now? Although, to be honest, I don’t think I want to lift a fist to you when you’re in this sort of mood. Who knows what sor
