by Andrea Kane
"Try."
"Have I mentioned how highly Lady Gertrude regards both Viscount Anders and the Earl of Gresham?"
"Lady Gertrude?" Drake sputtered. "Smitty, my aunt wouldn't know a rake from a clergyman. So that's hardly consolation, is it? Now, cease this cat and mouse game and answer my question."
"Please don't put me in this position, sir," Smitty requested with quiet dignity. "I care very much for both you and Lady Samantha."
"Not to mention that Lady Samantha can speak for herself." Sammy shut the door firmly and crossed the room. "Honestly, Drake, I can hear your bellowing all the way in my bedchamber." She stood on tiptoe and kissed her brother's cheek, ignoring his furious expression. "You're going to awaken the whole household."
"Evidently, that doesn't include you—you're already awake and dressed. Why is that?" Drake demanded. "It's not even dawn."
Sammy dimpled. "I wanted to see the sun rise. It's like watching an artist create a dazzling painting. Not to mention that I fully intended to reread my favorite sections of Mansfield Park... until I heard your thunderous arrival." She inclined her head quizzically. "What have Smitty and I done to make you so angry?"
"Is it true that you've been cavorting with the Viscount Anders and the Earl of Gresham?"
Sucking in her breath, Sammy looked quickly at Smitty, who answered her unspoken question with a brief shake of his head. "I... I..."
"Bloody hell." Drake raked his fingers through his hair. "Which one? Or is it both of them?"
"Stephen merely visited once or twice and danced with me at several balls," Sammy blurted out. "I have no feelings for the man and certainly have done nothing to encourage him." Frowning, she considered her statement. "Of course, he did give me that expensive necklace, but I sent it back right after I told him it was far too extravagant to give to a woman who wanted only to be his friend. I realize he has some foolish misconception that I shall change my mind and welcome his advances ... but that's not about to happen. I wish he and Remington weren't always fighting, because it makes it terribly awkward and uncomfortable when we run into him. But Rem cannot seem to control his compulsion to protect me. I suppose, if I were to be honest, I'd have to admit that I enjoy his possessiveness. Still, I can't imagine he'd even suspect I'd be interested in another man under the circumstances."
"Circumstances?" Drake echoed. Clenching his fists, he battled for the control he promised Alex he'd exert. "Samantha, are you telling me you're involved with Remington Worth?"
"I'm going to marry him." Sammy sighed. "If that quick temper of yours had permitted you to wait a few hours longer, you could have saved yourself a trip. Rem is riding to Allonshire this morning to ask for my hand."
That did it. "No."
Sammy recoiled as though Drake had struck her. "What?"
"You heard me—no. No, I will not see Remington Worth; no, you will not convince me otherwise; and no, you will not marry him."
"But why?" Sammy whispered. "Why?"
"Because I forbid it." Drake turned his blazing stare on Smitty. "Pack your things and Samantha's at once. You're coming home to Allonshire with me. Tonight."
"Consider what you're doing, Your Grace," Smitty tried, his troubled gaze traveling from Samantha to Drake and back.
"More importantly, what have you been doing? I sent you to London to look after Sammy, not to deliver her into the hands of a disreputable rake!"
"Don't blame Smitty!" Tears glistened on Sammy's cheeks. "He tried to keep me from seeing Rem. But like my brother, I have a mind of my own. I love him, Drake," she added in a small, shaky voice.
"No, Samantha, you don't love him."
"Yes ... I do."
"We'll discuss it later, at home."
"I won't go."
Drake started. "What?"
"You're being completely unreasonable." Sammy backed away until she felt the door handle behind her. "And I will not obey like some small, docile child. I'm a grown woman, Drake. When will you accept that?" In one sharp movement she yanked open the door and fled from the room.
For a long silent moment Drake merely stared after Sammy's retreating back, pain and shock alternately reflected on his face. In all of her eighteen years, Sammy had never turned her back on him, never fled from his presence. Never ... until now.
Recovering, Drake moved toward the hall. "I've got to go after her."
"No, Your Grace." Smitty stepped in his path. "Give Lady Samantha some time alone. You'll only make matters worse by confronting her now."
Drake swallowed. "Exactly how far has this relationship gone?"
"I'm not Lady Samantha's confidant, sir. But I would suspect she does have very strong feelings for the earl."
Slowly, Drake averted his head until his gaze locked with Smitty's. "I don't think I like what you're telling me."
"I'm not telling you anything, Your Grace."
"If that bastard has touched my sister—"
"Agonizing will get you nowhere. Neither will threatening the earl or coming to blows."
"Then what the hell do you suggest I do, Smitty?"
"I suggest you accept that you're not able to deal with this situation rationally."
"I already accept that. But I'm Samantha's brother—I feel like her father, dammit. And there's no one who loves her as much as I do and who could better handle her—"
"Yes, there is," Smitty interrupted. "Your wife. Let the duchess talk to Lady Samantha. She will do an excellent job of listening"—Smitty let the word hang purposefully between them—"as well as guiding."
Drake blinked. "Alex ... yes. Sammy always does confide in her; maybe she'll do so this time as well. Of course, nothing of this magnitude has ever happened before, so I'm not sure how Alex will react. An innocent child like Sammy, barely of age, getting involved with a rogue like Gresham, who uses women for only one thing. Hell!" Drake slammed his hand against the wall. "I don't know if even Alex is equipped to combat this dilemma."
Smitty's eyes twinkled, his memory clearly recalling an identical dilemma in the not-so-distant past. "Oh, I think she can, Your Grace. Rest assured, I think the duchess will manage just fine."
Boydry's was dark.
Any passerby would assume the pub had closed for the night.
"Now what?" Boyd tossed off a glass of gin, watching Rem pace the silent room.
"Now we find out the identity of Anders's other partner. Fast." Rem paused, scowling at his drink. "We're not discussing ships alone anymore, Boyd. We're discussing men; men who are being sold like chattel. It sickens me."
"It appears that your instincts about Anders were right."
"No." Rem shook his head. "I never would have thought he'd go this far. Money, yes. Lives, no. The bastard has surprised even me." Rem's lips thinned into a grim line. "This sheds a whole new light on that conversation I overheard between Anders and Summerson at Devonshire House. Samantha could be in grave danger."
"Yes, she could."
"I've got to work fast."
"Towers's statement is all the evidence we need. Anders's association with Summerson, his reference to Atlantis, Summerson's connection to the privateer—that's more than enough to put them away for a long, long time."
"That would be fine, if putting them away was all we wanted. But it isn't. We want their partner." Rem clenched his fist, "We've got to find out who he is. Then we'll close in on the three of them."
"And in the meantime?"
"In the meantime it's up to me to protect Samantha."
"Lady Samantha, did you say?" Rem's butler sniffed. "My lady ... I'm sorry. The earl is just not at home."
"But he must be home—it's nearly dawn!" Sammy felt close to hysteria. She'd run all the way to Rem's Town house, unconcerned about her reputation, unconcerned about anything but getting to Rem before Drake did.
"I assure you, he is not."
"Where is he?"
"Pardon me?" The butler blanched.
Sammy inhaled sharply and tried again. "What is your nam
e, sir?"
"Peldon, my lady."
"Peldon, do you know who I am?"
He shifted a bit uncomfortably.
"I thought not. Well, I am not one of the earl's paramours. I am Lady Samantha Barrett, the Duke of Allonshire's sister, and"—she paused for effect—"the Earl of Gresham's betrothed. Remington and I are to be married in less than a month." Even as she said the words, she prayed they were true. "Now, I don't want to have to tell Lord Gresham that you were uncooperative. But I do need to see him at once. It is urgent, or I would not be here unchaperoned. So, I'd appreciate if you—"
"Forgive me, my lady." Peldon had turned a curious shade of green. "But the truth is, I'm not precisely certain where the earl is. I do know that he's with Mr. Hayword."
Boyd. Of course. "Thank you, Peldon." Sammy gave him as brilliant a smile as she could muster, although she suspected he knew more than he cared to admit. "You've been a great help. I'll be sure to speak highly of you to the earl. Now, I need just one more favor ... a carriage."
"A carriage, my lady?"
"Yes. I wal—rode here with friends. They assumed the earl was at home. Now I'm without a vehicle."
"Oh, I see. Well, the earl took his phaeton, so I'll have the carriage brought around at once."
"Oh, would you?" Sammy's relief was instant and genuine. "You are a saint, Peldon. Thank you with all my heart." She began to wrack her brain. Where would Rem and Boyd be? At Annie's? At Boyd's house ... wherever that was? Where?
Sammy had endured all she could. Her lips began to tremble in frustration.
"Of course, you understand this is just speculation"— Peldon's brow furrowed in concentration as he brushed an imaginary speck from his uniform—"but I believe I would try Mr. Hayword's establishment, my lady ... if your reasons for seeking out Lord Gresham are as urgent as you say. It seems to me I recall—"
"Boydry's! Of course! Oh, Peldon, you're wonderful!" This time Sammy cast protocol to the wind and hugged the startled servant. "Thank you!"
Fortunately, Rem's carriage driver knew the quickest route to Boydry's, as Sammy could scarcely recall its exact location. A half hour later the tavern stood before her.
Hastily, Sammy gathered her skirts and made her way to the bolted door. Her hand poised to knock, she hesitated, for the first time pondering what she would say, how Rem would respond to what she told him. Not with fear, that was for certain. The man was afraid of nothing, not even her formidable brother.
Footsteps sounded from within, and instinctively Sammy stepped back and hid behind the door as it creaked open.
"Incidentally, Rem, I assume you recall it was Hartley's company that built the Bountiful." Boyd's muffled words reached Sammy's ears.
"Yes, I remember that from Briggs's list." Rem paused in the doorway, rubbing his temples. "I have no reason to distrust Hartley. Still, I'm grateful as hell that Barrett Shipping didn't construct Towers's ship, if that's what you're getting at."
"That's exactly what I'm getting at. You're in a precarious enough situation with Samantha. You don't need to worsen it by having to question her again."
"No. Thankfully, we can get our answers elsewhere. At this point I don't think I could live with myself if I had to use Samantha to garner facts on—" Abruptly, Rem broke off, as if sensing that he and Boyd were no longer alone. Slowly, like a tiger assessing its prey, he averted his head, searching the dimly lit walk leading to Boydry's. Then, without warning, he grabbed the door handle and pulled, simultaneously whipping out his pistol.
His piercing stare met Sammy's horrified one.
"Samantha . . ." Rem lowered the pistol, visibly shaken, and took a step toward her.
Sammy's face drained of color, but she didn't retreat. "Tell me what I'm thinking isn't true," she demanded in a fierce whisper. "Tell me."
The agony in her voice tore at Rem's heart. "What you're thinking isn't true."
"You weren't using me all this time? Last night... tonight in your carriage ... everything you said, did . . ."
"No ... dammit no!" Rem shook his head violently as he reached for her. "If you believe nothing else, believe that."
"Rem? Who the hell ... Christ!" Boyd went white when he poked his head out and saw Samantha.
"Go home, Boyd. Get some sleep. I need to talk to Samantha. Alone." Rem drew Sammy against him.
The door closed quietly.
Dazed and unmoving, Sammy tried to grasp all she had just overheard. "Who are you, Remington Worth?" Her eyes fell on Rein's pistol as he tucked it away. "Or should I say Worthless? Who are you really?"
Despite the drama of the situation, Rem felt himself smile. "I'm not the villain in a real-life Gothic, if that's what you're thinking. Listen to your heart, not your fanciful mind." Softly, he kissed her hair. "Sweetheart, I know you're confused. I can't do a thing to abate that. But as far as what's happening between us—it was, is, real. I am not using you."
"All your questions about Barrett Shipping—the brig you commissioned Drake to construct—and now, what I just heard you say ... you're investigating those missing ships, aren't you?"
"I can't answer that."
"You're not really in any financial difficulty, are you?"
"No."
Sammy leaned back, solemnly studying him. "I don't know you at all."
"You know me, Samantha." Rem framed her face between his palms. "Better than I know myself, perhaps."
Her eyes closed against the bittersweet pain. "You warned me, didn't you? That there was a part of your life—as well as your heart—you could never share? But I didn't listen."
"Imp ... look at me." He waited until she complied. "You're going to have to forget everything you overheard here tonight."
Sammy met his penetrating silver stare and saw the gravity and magnitude of his command. "Just answer one question. Whatever you're doing, whoever you're working for, do you intend to harm my brother?"
He didn't hesitate. "No."
"All right." Shakily, Sammy inhaled. "Then I've forgotten everything I heard since I alit from the carriage."
A muscle worked in Rem's jaw. "You humble me."
"What can I do to help?"
"You can stay out of peril." Rem glanced around, suddenly reminded of where they were. "What are you doing at Boydry's? Before dawn, no less."
"I needed to see you." Sammy gripped Rem's arms, reassailed by the emotional impact of her quandary. "Drake is in London. He knows about us." Her eyes misted. "He's forbidden me to marry you."
"Damn . . ." Rem scowled, evaluating this unexpected development. "When you say he 'knows about us,' what exactly do you mean?"
"If you're asking, does he know we've been together, I'm not sure. The argument didn't get that far. I told him I loved you, that you were going to visit Allonshire today to ask for my hand."
"And?"
"And he blew up. He told me he wouldn't see you, nor discuss the idea of my wedding you. He ordered me back to Allonshire, immediately."
"Under the circumstances, that doesn't surprise me," Rem muttered, his mind racing. He knew what had to be done. The question was, could he convince Samantha to comply without shattering her faith entirely?
"Imp," he began, praying her belief in him was strong enough to withstand this inopportune test. "I have no right to ask this of you, especially after all that's happened. But I'm asking nonetheless: do you trust me?"
"And I'm answering as I always have: I trust you with my life."
A knot of emotion clogged Rem's throat. "I'm honored as well as humbled." Gently, he smoothed Sammy's hair from her face. "Do as your brother says."
She started. "What?"
"Go home with Drake. Spend some time with Alexandria and your new niece. Tell them you need time to think, to make plans. Tell them anything you want. Just stay at Allonshire until I come for you. And Samantha…" His hold on her tightened. "I will come for you."
The doubt and betrayal he expected to see never appeared. Instead, insight, stark and absolut
e, illuminated Sammy's eyes like a blaze of fireworks. "Whatever you're involved in ... it's dangerous."
It was Rem's turn to be startled. "I've been told by hundreds of people that I am impossible to read; a true enigma."
"Those people obviously weren't in love with you."
He stared deep into her eyes and something painful and profound moved within his chest, blanketing the past in a dark and distant memory, spawning a soul-stirring emotion that terrified him with its intensity. "I love you, Samantha Barrett." The words escaped before he realized he'd said them.
"I know you do," Sammy whispered, twining her arms about his neck. "But I so needed to hear you say the words." Joyful tears filled her eyes. "Thank you, Rem."
With a low groan, Rem dragged her closer, capturing her mouth under his. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"
"So many things. You're tender and caring, but at the same time fearless and protective. And loyal. A true hero ... my hero."
"Keep believing in me," Rem breathed fiercely, pressing her head to his chest. "No matter how difficult it becomes, keep believing in me."
Fear clutched Sammy's heart. "I know you're walking into danger." She gripped his coat. "Please ... be careful."
"A hero would never refuse his heroine's request," Rem murmured, his voice hoarse with feeling. "Rest assured, my lady, I'll soon be riding to Allonshire to claim you. Now go and await my arrival."
19
"I thought I might find you here."
Alexandria crossed the library and sank down on the settee beside Samantha. "What are you reading?"
"I have no idea," Sammy answered honestly, closing the book. "I've read the same paragraph seven times."
With an understanding nod, Alex folded her hands in her lap. "Are you ready to talk?" she asked frankly. "Or is it too soon?"
A tiny smile touched Sammy's lips. "I wondered what was taking you so long. I've been home for two days."
"I thought you needed some time. Besides," Alex sighed, shaking her head, "it's taken me every bit of the two days to calm your brother down."
"I'm sorry, Alex. This is the last thing you needed. You've barely regained your strength since Bonnie's birth."
