Stay Calm and Collie On. Lane Stone
me he was laughing on the inside.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut and thought about how a thousand years of upper-class British reserve had just succumbed to a cold glass of a fairly good Chardonnay. “Looks like she has a better memory than I do,” I said.
Lady Anthea looked at Wayne, by far the more approachable of the two men. “You’re from a different agency than he?” she asked. Both men nodded. “Is that why he’s in uniform, and”—she hesitated here, taking in his outfit—“you’re not?”
“No, ma’am.” Wayne’s big hand wrapped around his glass, dwarfing it, and he lifted it to toast her. “I’m dressed like this because at this hour, I take my orders from Captain Morgan.”
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