Husband Material (London Calling, #2)

by Alexis Hall

“Do you have something you want to tell me?” I asked it, scowling. It probably said something about our relationship that Oliver had a specific exasperated-fondness sigh. “Mr. Posset, remember that you have a right not to self-incriminate.” “Yeah,” I threw back, having seen many police procedurals, “but it may harm its defence if it fails to mention when questioning something it later relies on in court.” Snatching up both the posset and one of the spoons, Oliver half turned away from me. “Excuse me, I need to confer with my client.” “‘By confer with,’ do you mean eat? I’m pretty sure you can get disbarred for that.” “I can confidently say”—Oliver dug the spoon into Mr. Posset—“that I know of no barrister who has ever been disbarred for eating their clients.” “But not because it’s allowed? Because it’s never happened.” “I think,” said Oliver thoughtfully, “it might be considered a violation of the core duty to act in the best interests of the client. And, for that matter, the requirement not to behave in a manner that diminishes the trust the public places in the profession. But there’s never technically been a test case on it.” “Well, it’s good a job this lemon posset is your secret lover and not your client.” “Isn’t it?” He reached across the table, offering me a generous spoon of the dessert I was now trying really hard not to think of as Mr. Posset. Thankfully my appetite outweighed my empathy. Which, thinking about it, was why I’d make a crap vegan. And, anyway, Olive...