Andrea Kane (22 page)

“You’ve been reading too many of your romantic novels.” Cynthia gestured at the books scattered about the room.

“Oh, no, Cynthia. My books bring me hours of pleasure.”

“But apparently they’re also putting foolish ideas in your head. Ideas that transform your earl into a hero and you into his damsel in distress.
That
is a big mistake.”

“You’re wrong,” Sammy denied fervently. “My books feed my romantic nature, but they aren’t responsible for my feelings for Remington. You see, Cynthia, despite a mutual affinity for mysterious adventures and a high regard for happy endings, I have very little in common with my Gothic heroines. They are sensible and serene, prone to tears, and inclined to swoon at the drop of a hat. And while Lord knows I’ve tried, I cannot seem to be either sensible or serene. I detest crying in public and I absolutely never faint. Instead, I’m impetuous and passionate and far too forthright about what I think and feel to suit the tastes of a true Gothic heroine. And, although Remington is protective and strong, and comes to my rescue whenever I need him, he’s far too much of a rake and a womanizer to resemble a staid Gothic hero. But it matters not. He’s
my
hero nonetheless. As I am his heroine.”

Cynthia slapped her palm on the dressing table, utterly frustrated. “You thwart me at every turn, don’t you? How can I open your eyes to the truth?” She hesitated, studying Sammy’s unyielding stance. “I don’t want to hurt you, Samantha.”

“Hurt me?”

“Yes, by forcing you to see your earl for the duplicitous rogue that he is.”

“Remington has been nothing but honest with me.”

“Has he? Even about other women?”

“He hasn’t been with another woman since we met.”

Cynthia gave a derisive laugh. “Is that what he told you? And you, of course, believed him.” She seized Sammy’s shoulders, desperate to make her face reality before it was too late. “Think about it, Samantha. A handsome nobleman like Lord Gresham? Saving himself for you … no matter how long that might take?”

“Remington wouldn’t lie to me.”

“Really? Then why was he at Annie’s the night you and I met?”

“He had a business meeting.”

“And did he have another meeting tonight?”

“What?”

“Where do you think he was going after he failed to ravish you in his carriage? Home? To his lonely bed? He was going to Annie’s.”

Sammy’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Yes. I myself heard him instruct his driver to take him there.” Cynthia wanted to weep at the spasm of pain that crossed Sammy’s face. “I’m sorry, Samantha.” Her hands gentled on her friend’s shoulders. “I wish I were wrong. I wish everything you believe could be so. God, how I wish that.” A tremor of emotion made her voice break. “But I won’t let him do this to you. I couldn’t prevent what happened to me, but perhaps I can save you from suffering the same fate; indeed, a more severe one. At least in my case, I was taken by force, so I was spared the knowledge that I was a willing participant. If Remington Worth should take you to his bed, you’d go eagerly, like a lamb to slaughter. Could you face yourself the next day knowing you were but a pawn in his scheme of seduction?”

Throughout Cynthia’s speech Sammy remained silent, pondering the significance of her maid’s words. Now she straightened, met Cynthia’s gaze with sympathy and candor. “Remington’s not trying to seduce me, Cynthia, any more than you’re trying to hurt me. In your own way, you’re each trying to shelter me … in areas that, much as you believe otherwise, I don’t need sheltering. Perhaps Rem is going to Annie’s tonight. But if so, it’s not for a sexual liaison. Why am I so certain? Because he would have told me so directly. I have no claims on his fidelity, only on his feelings. To answer your question, yes, I could live with myself if I went to the bed of the man I love. And I hope with all my heart that some day you’ll be able to say the same.”

“I don’t believe in love. Nor would I ever knowingly embrace social ruin, the way you seem determined to do.”

“Social ruin? Why would I be ruined?”

Cynthia shook her head in disbelief. “Even among the working class, for an unwed girl to relinquish her innocence is appalling. In the
ton?
Need you ask? If you lie with a man out of wedlock, you’ll be labeled a common trollop!”

“Not if I wed the man with whom I share my innocence.”

“Wed the …” Cynthia inhaled sharply. “Samantha, do you honestly believe you are going to marry Remington Worth; or rather, that he is going to marry you?”

“Of course.”

“Has he actually spoken of matrimony?”

“Not yet.”

“Then what makes you think he will?”

Sammy lay her hand over her heart. “This.”

“So you’re going to lie with the earl because of some romantic misconception that, in the glowing aftermath of your union, he’ll feel compelled to propose marriage?”

“No. I’m going to lie with the earl because I love him. And the earl’s going to propose because he loves me.” Sammy smiled as she summed up the obvious.

“I see.” Cynthia didn’t smile back. “Will you promise me one thing?”

“If I can.”

“Before you enact your sentimental plan, will you make sure Lord Gresham’s intentions concur with your own?”

A faraway look appeared in Sammy’s eyes. “All right. I’ll make certain Remington and I understand each other completely.”

“Rem. I’m glad you’re here. I was getting concerned.” Boyd glanced down at his timepiece, which read nearly half after two.

“I was unexpectedly detained. I apologize, gentlemen.” Rem slid into his chair, addressing Boyd, Templar, and Harris.

Boyd’s eyes narrowed on Rem’s face, but he did not pursue the subject. “Another British ship went down.”

“When?” Rem was instantly alert.

“The Admiralty got word late this evening. They couldn’t locate you, so they delivered the message to Boydry’s.”

“What details did they provide?”

“Not many. Their information is still sketchy. Apparently, the vessel was en route to Canada. It was last seen in the far waters of the English Channel. As for its cargo—it was varied in content and belonged to several different merchants.”

“I’ll get that data for you,” Harris chimed in. “You’ll have the names of the merchants and exactly what each one was transporting by morning.”

“The ship was part of Anders’s fleet,” Boyd continued. “Evidently, it was one of his prize brigs.”

“Judging from his records, he’s hurting pretty badly. This loss is going to cripple him,” Templar added.

Boyd cleared his throat. “The missing brig was built by Barrett Shipping.”

A muscle tightened fractionally in Rem’s jaw. “I see.”

“Harris and I are going directly to the docks from here, Gresham,” Templar informed him. “We’ve reached a dead end everywhere else. Maybe we can learn something useful from the wharf rats.”

Rem frowned. “You checked out the other companies we discussed?”

“Yes, all of them. The merchants, too.”

“And?”

“Nothing was amiss in any of their records.”

“All right.” Rem nodded. “Do as you suggested. Poke around at the docks and see what you can find out. In the interim, I’ll have a chat with the Viscount Anders and the Duke of Allonshire.”

“Is there anything else or should we get started?”

“Get started.”

Harris’s chair scraped the floor. “We’ll be in touch.”

Boyd waited until the Bow Street men had left Annie’s before he spoke. “Don’t assume the worst, Rem. The fact that Barrett Shipping built the missing brig doesn’t implicate them. There’s no evidence that the ship’s construction had anything to do with its disappearance.”

“I know that. I just wasn’t anticipating a discussion with Drake Barrett at this particular time. It’s going to be damned uncomfortable, given the circumstances, for me to face him. Hell, I’m not even sure I can look the man in the eye.”

“Your conversation won’t pertain to Samantha or your relationship with her.”

“Unless her brother brings it up. Aren’t you the one who told me how rampantly gossip travels?”

Boyd weighed that possibility in his mind. “What will you tell him?”

“As little as possible.”

“Nothing tangible has actually occurred … has it?”

Rem met Boyd’s questioning look. “Not yet.”

The inference sank in.

“Moreover,” Rem continued, “with Alexandria about to deliver a child, I’m not even sure Allonshire will see me.”

“Why not begin with Anders, then? He’s right here in London, isn’t he?”

“He certainly is. I had an altercation with him not two hours past.”

Boyd looked surprised. “I know you don’t particularly like or trust the fellow. But I didn’t know you were openly hostile toward each other.”

“We weren’t. We are now.”

“Why?”

“He made some unwanted advances to Samantha.”

“Unwanted? By whom?” Despite the seriousness of tonight’s news, Boyd’s lips twitched.

“By Samantha … and by me.”

“I see. Well, the knight-in-shining-armor role is becoming a habit with you. At least where Samantha Barrett is concerned. One would almost think you were saving her for yourself.”

“One would be right.”

Boyd’s smile faded. “Rem—”

“Not now, Boyd. My feelings about Samantha are too complex for a two-minute discussion. We’ll delve into them another time. Right now, we have work to do.”

“What will you tell Samantha about your meeting with Allonshire?”

“I can’t keep it a secret; she’s too close to her family. I’ll continue with my original story about attempting to settle some financial difficulties. I’ll tell her I managed to borrow a respectable sum of money and want to commission the building of a ship.”

“And will you tell the same to Allonshire?”

“I don’t know. That all depends on what he tells me.” Rem rubbed his palms together. “The day we rode through Hyde Park, Samantha mentioned Goddfrey’s name, as if she thought he might have some information that could solve the mystery of the missing ships. I have yet to figure out what precipitated her comment.”

“But you don’t think Goddfrey’s involved.”

“No, I don’t. But perhaps Allonshire does. Samantha seemed terribly nervous when she inadvertently let the viscount’s name slip in my presence. I couldn’t help but think she might have been privy to a conversation she was told not to repeat.”

“Which leads us back to Allonshire.”

“Exactly.” Rem stood. “When I left Carlton House, Anders was still at the party. I assume he’ll be abed until midday … unless he’s awakened by word of his missing ship. I’ll get some sleep and call on him at noon. I’ll also send a message to Allonshire, requesting a few minutes of the duke’s time. Berkshire is only an hour’s drive. If Drake agrees to see me in the late afternoon, I should have some answers by nightfall.”

“Rem, before you go …” Boyd rose slowly, obviously uncomfortable with his next question. “Did Samantha happen to mention Cynthia at all?”

“Ah, Cynthia. I’m glad you brought her up.” Rem leaned toward his friend. “I had a very interesting chat with Samantha’s new maid this evening.”

“A chat? About what?”

“Evidently, Cynthia has appointed herself Samantha’s conscience. She warned me in no uncertain terms to stay away from her mistress and to leave her virtue intact.”

Boyd blinked. “I see.”

“That doesn’t surprise you?”

“No. I’m not sure why, but it doesn’t. There’s something about that woman … I don’t know what it is. All I know is that she doesn’t belong at Annie’s and that she’s more a lady than a whore.”

“I agree.”

“You do?”

“Wholeheartedly. I also think that the only person Cynthia has entrusted with the true details of her background is Samantha. We could question Annie, but my guess is she knows as little as we do.”

“The other night you mentioned that Samantha defended Cynthia to you—I take it that means she’s fond of her?”

“Definitely.”

Again Boyd hesitated.

“Why don’t you pay Cynthia a visit?” Rem suggested casually. “She was quite taken with you that first evening.”

“She was polite, nothing more. I assume she treats everyone that way.”

Rem chuckled. “A poor assumption. She lambasted me quite thoroughly tonight, with a razor-sharp tongue. No, I should say that your Cynthia leans toward honesty in her treatment of men.”

“Still … I wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable or jeopardize her new position.”

“From what I witnessed, Cynthia’s position is secure. Moreover, I’m certain she’s granted a day off.”

Boyd nodded. “True.”

“Do it.”

“You don’t think Samantha would mind?”

Again Rem’s dimple flashed. “I think Samantha would find it stirringly romantic.”

“All right then.” Boyd visibly relaxed. “You know, Rem, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear Samantha Barrett was converting you to her way of thinking. You’re becoming quite the romantic yourself.”

“Rem?” Katrina strolled cautiously over to their table. “I thought it was you back here.”

“Hello, Katrina.” Rem gifted her with a dazzling smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“Is it?” She fingered the folds of her gown awkwardly. “I was beginning to wonder. It’s been ages.”

“I’m hardly a stranger. Why, I’ve been at Annie’s twice this week.”

“You know what I mean.” Katrina’s brilliant blue eyes were veiled with questions. “Are you leaving already?”

“Yes, sweet, I am.” Rem’s voice was gentle.

“Could I convince you to stay?”

Even as Katrina spoke, gazed at him with explicit promise in her eyes—a promise he once would have savored—it was Samantha’s face Rem saw, Samantha’s words he heard issuing her enchanting request.
Remington … until we find the time to be alone … until then … I don’t want you with other women.

On the heels of Rem’s memory came the irrefutable realization that the reply he’d given her was the truth. He didn’t want another woman. Only Samantha.

“Katrina—” he began.

“There’s someone special, isn’t there?” It was a statement, not a question.

Rem answered anyway. “Yes, there is.”

Katrina managed a smile. “She’s a lucky woman.” Raising up, she kissed his cheek, murmuring, “I’ll miss you, Rem.” With an audible swallow, she turned away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have work to do.”