Andrea Kane (26 page)

“Well, hello.” Rem squatted beside him, wincing as the child yanked a fistful of marigolds from the ground. “You must be Gray.”

The boy nodded sagely, pulling up two more handfuls of flowers.

Clearing his throat, Rem looked about for the boy’s governess. He had little experience with children and no idea how to handle the boy’s destructive sport. Unfortunately, the gardens were deserted, save the two of them.

“May I ask why you’re ripping up this lovely flower garden?” Rem inquired at last.

Gray looked at his grimy fist and nodded effusively. “Pretty flowers. Bright colors.”

“I agree.” Once again, Rem scanned the area. “Where is your governess?”

Triumphantly, Gray pointed to the mansion. “Reading.”

“Reading? Why isn’t she with you?”

“She thinks I nap.”

Rem’s lips twitched. “You’re telling me that your governess thinks you’re napping? Then perhaps you should be.”

“No.” Gray shook his head vehemently. “No nap. Flowers.” Another handful of stems were torn from their grassy bed.

“Why, Gray?” Rem lifted the boy’s chin, stared into his intense eyes. “Why flowers?”

“Mama’s in bed. She’s giving me a brother.” He grimaced. “Or a sister.” Holding up the mangled bunch of marigolds, he proudly announced, “I give her flowers.”

Perhaps it was the afternoon sunshine that made Rem’s eyes sting. “I see. Well, I’ll tell you something, Gray. Your mama is very lucky to have such a thoughtful son. I’m sure she’ll think those are the most beautiful flowers she’s ever seen.” Smiling at the rapturous expression on the little boy’s face, Rem leaned conspiratorially forward. “And do you know what? I think now would be the perfect time to give them to her. In fact, I can’t think of a more perfect time.”

“I go.” Half the flowers fell as Gray struggled to his feet, but Rem suspected Alexandria wouldn’t mind their absence. Nor would she mind the glaringly conspicuous bald patch amid Allonshire’s otherwise perfect garden. The gift she was receiving was far more precious.

“’Bye.” Gray smiled again, and Rem could well understand how that impish grin would melt Drake’s heart.

“’Twas a pleasure.” Rem solemnly extended his hand. “Incidentally, my name is Rem.”

Soberly, Gray shook the proffered hand. “’Bye, Rem.” He turned to go.

“Oh, Gray?”

Gray inclined his head quizzically.

“How do you feel about your aunt Samantha?” Rem asked.

Gray’s eyes lit up. “Aunt Sammy!”

“She’s very special, wouldn’t you say?”

An emphatic nod.

“And she adores your papa, doesn’t she? Follows him around, looks up to him … that sort of thing?”

“Aunt Sammy says Papa is a … a …” Gray screwed up his face intently, thinking. “A hero!” he exclaimed suddenly.

Warmth seeped through Rem at the characteristically Samantha-like term. “Yes, Aunt Samantha definitely thinks your papa is a hero. Do you know why?”

Shaking his head, Gray waited.

“Because he’s her big brother, that’s why. And nothing’s more special to a girl than her big brother.”

Gray’s eyes widened.

“Trust me, Gray,” Rem advised confidentially. “If you get a brother, it’ll be nice, but there’s nothing as wonderful as having a little sister who thinks you’re the most wonderful person in the whole world. If I were you, I’d wish real hard that your mama gives you just that—a sister who loves you as much as Aunt Samantha loves your papa.”

Squeezing his eyes closed, Gray’s fist tightened on his flowers. “I’m wishing.”

“Good. Now hurry home and see if your wish came true.” Quick as a wink, Gray sprinted off toward the manor.

Alexandria Barrett turned her head at the sound of her bedchamber door opening. A soft smile touched her lips as her eyes met her husband’s. “Finally.”

Gingerly sitting on the edge of the bed, Drake leaned over and reverently kissed Alex’s face; her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. “After the unceremonious way you tossed me out, I wasn’t sure I was welcome.”

“Have you seen her?”

“No. I wanted to see you first.” He cupped his wife’s face between his palms. “Are you all right?”

“Would you have it any other way?” Alex lay her hand on his jaw.

“No.”

“I’m fine. And so is our daughter.”

“Thank you, princess.” Drake gathered Alex tenderly in his arms. “Thank you for our daughter.”

“Another princess,” she murmured, a catch in her voice. “Will you withstand it?”

“Gladly.”

“I love you, Drake.”

“You’re my life,” he said simply.

“Pardon me, Your Grace.” Molly, Alex’s lady’s maid, poked her head in the room. “Evidently the new babe is hungry. Would you like me to—”

“Bring her to me.” Disengaging herself from Drake’s embrace, Alex pushed herself to a sitting position.

“But Your Grace—”

“We’ve discussed this, Molly. Time and time again. The duke and I feel as strongly as we did two years ago when Gray was born. I will feed my daughter. Now would you please bring her in so she can meet her father?”

With a resigned sigh, Molly nodded.

“Princess, are you sure you’re not too tired?” Drake traced the dark circles under Alex’s eyes with a gentle finger. He still couldn’t believe that his tiny, fragile-looking wife was capable of enduring the rigors of childbirth.

“I’m sure.” Eagerly, Alex reached out as Molly returned with a small, wailing bundle. Lovingly, Alex took her newborn daughter into her arms, then proudly displayed her to Drake. “Look at her. Isn’t she beautiful?”

A muscle worked in Drake’s jaw as he gazed into his daughter’s fathomless gray eyes—Alex’s eyes. Slowly, he lifted her from Alex’s arms into his own, cradling her tiny, fuzzy head in his hand. An explosion of pride, protectiveness, and love erupted inside him, so powerful it nearly brought him to his knees. “Hello, little one,” he said in a rough whisper.

Instantly, the baby stopped crying.

“Oh Lord.” Alex rolled her eyes. “Another woman has fallen prey to your fatal charm.”

“Evidently not.” Drake chuckled as the crying resumed. “Or at least not in lieu of nourishment.” He waited for Alex to lower her nightrail before reluctantly shifting the baby back into her mother’s hands.

Crooning softly, Alex cradled their daughter to her breast, smiling as the infant greedily latched onto her nipple and, with great enthusiasm, began to suckle. “You’re a fast learner, my love,” Alex murmured, kissing one flailing fist.

Alex was readjusting her nightrail, the baby sound asleep in the crook of her elbow, when Gray exploded into the bedchamber. “Mama, do I have a sister?”

“Forgive me, Your Grace.” Miss Hutch, the Allonshire governess, appeared, flushed and panting, beside her charge. “I put the young marquis down for a nap. I had no idea—”

“It’s all right, Miss Hutch.” Alex’s lips twitched. “Gray may come in. You and Molly are both free to go.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do I, Mama?” Gray rushed to Alex’s bedside, his eyes glued to the tiny form beside his mother, his hands tightly clasped behind his back.

Alex laughed. “Now that’s quite a change! I thought only a brother would do.”

“No, Mama. I want to be a hero. Like Papa. So I need a sister.”

Alex and Drake exchanged baffled looks. “Then rest easy,” Alex assured Gray. “You are indeed a hero. Meet your sister.”

Gray’s eyes opened wide with wonder as he stared down at the peaceful, angelic face. “She’s little.”

Drake chuckled. “She’ll grow, son.”

“She’s pretty. What’s her name?”

Tenderly, Alex rumpled Gray’s hair. “Papa and I are still discussing—”

“Bonnie.”

Alex blinked. “What?”

“Her name. It’s Bonnie. ’Cause she’s pretty. I choose, ’cause I’m her hero.”

A maternal gleam flashed in Alex’s eyes. “Bonnie. It is a lovely name. Drake?” She inclined her head.

“I’m her hero. I choose,” Gray insisted.

A rumble of laughter erupted from Drake’s chest. “Very well. Since you insist you’re the hero—”

“Not
the
hero, Papa. Bonnie’s hero. Same as you’re Aunt Sammy’s.”

“Ah.” Drake’s brow furrowed as he tried to deduce what had prompted Gray’s surprising analogy.

“Here, Mama. For you.” Remembering his gift, Gray yanked his hand from behind his back and thrust the bunch of wilting marigolds at Alex. “’Cause you made me a hero.”

Alex stared from the droopy flowers to Gray’s earnest face, tears filling her eyes. Drawing her son forward, she kissed his cheek and took her bouquet. “Thank you, Gray. They’re the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever received. You really are a hero.”

“Just like Rem said.”

“Rem?”

“The man. He told me Papa was Aunt Sammy’s hero. He told me to wish for a sister so I could be a hero, too.”

“I see.” Drake grew thoughtful. “When did you see this gentleman?”

“In the garden. Just now.”

“Rem … Remington Worth?” Alex questioned Drake. “Is that who your business meeting was with?”

Drake nodded. “He commissioned Barrett Shipping to build his brig.”

“I didn’t know he had a fleet.”

“He doesn’t. This will be his first ship … an odd time to be taking such a risk, considering the unsettled status of British waters. I fully intended to delve a bit further into the reasons behind his unexpected purchase. However, given the circumstances, I hadn’t the chance. I bolted the moment Humphreys broke in to tell me …” Drake’s voice trailed off.

Alex understood at once. “Lord Gresham was with you,” she finished quietly. “Gray …” Hooking a forefinger beneath her son’s chin, she asked, “Did you mention to the gentleman—Rem—that you wanted a brother?”

“Yes, but he was right. I don’t want one now. I want Bonnie.”

“I know, darling. And you have Bonnie. We all do.” Alex inclined her head in Drake’s direction. “What a sensitive thing for the earl to do.”

“Yes, it was, wasn’t it? I’ll have to remember to thank him. I think.”

“You think?”

“I’m not sure why, princess, but I have a nagging feeling that my association with Gresham is going to be a turbulent one. Oh, he’s charming as hell. Intelligent, too. Still …” Drake shook his head, bemused. “Underneath all that inherent charm, I sense a core of calculated planning and rigid discipline; almost as if I were the fly and he the spider preparing to snare me in his web.”

“He sounds a great deal like you,” Alex commented dryly.

“True.” Drake didn’t smile. “But there’s one difference.”

“Which is?”

“I know my motives. I have yet to figure out his.”

R
EM NEVER CONSIDERED GOING
home. Totally off balance, his emotions raw and unsettled, he ordered his driver to take him directly to Abingdon Street. To Abingdon Street … and Samantha.

“Good day,” he greeted the Town house butler. “Please tell Lady Samantha the Earl of Gresham is here to see her.”

Hatterly didn’t budge. “Is she expecting you, my lord?”

“Actually, no. I’ve come directly from a business meeting and had no opportunity to alert her to my imminent arrival. But I’m certain she’ll receive me.”

Hesitating an instant longer, the butler shrugged. “Follow me, my lord.”

As they approached the sitting room, Rem heard the sound of melodic laughter. Samantha’s laughter. Like a haven from the storm, it beckoned him, offering him the solace he craved, the cause and the cure for his inner turmoil.

The butler had not yet completed his formal announcement of Rem’s arrival when Rem strode into the room, nearly tripping over the carved armchair that held Cynthia and her needlepoint.

“What the … ?” Rem’s glance slid from Cynthia’s startled face to the room’s large settee, which currently held Samantha and Viscount Anders … several feet apart, but beside each other nonetheless.

“Remington!” Sammy’s eyes lit up as she rose to greet him. “I didn’t expect you.”

“Evidently not.” Rem’s fists clenched at his sides and he counted slowly to ten, simultaneously planning the viscount’s sudden, violent demise. “If you recall, I did say I’d be here late this afternoon.”

“You said you’d see me later today,” she corrected, glancing uneasily from Rem to Stephen. “You never mentioned what time, nor that you intended to visit me at home.” Attempting to defuse the tension permeating the room, she smoothed the folds of her gown and walked toward Rem. “But I’m delighted to see you. May I offer you some refreshment?”

“Why is the viscount here?”

Sammy wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. She should have known better than to think Rem would make this easy, she realized. “Stephen only just arrived. He came to … that is …” Self-consciously, her fingers flew to the heavy gold and diamond necklace at her throat.

The viscount stood in one fluid motion. “I brought Samantha a small token of my esteem, Gresham,” he said with a smug smile. “It looks lovely on her, does it not?”

Rem’s icy gaze dropped to the glittering gems. “Yes. Very lovely. And very costly.”

“Samantha is more than worth the cost, no matter how high.”

“Please, Stephen, you’re embarrassing me.” A faint tinge of color stained Sammy’s cheeks. “And, if you recall, I also told you the necklace was far too extravagant.”

“Nonsense, my dear. ’Tis but a mere trinket.” Anders straightened his waistcoat. “I’ll take my leave now. But rest assured, I’ll be calling again tomorrow.”

“Good day, Anders.” Rem’s voice was menacing.

“Cynthia, would you show the viscount to the door, please?” Sammy asked.

For the first time, Cynthia spoke. “I really don’t think—”

“Please, Cynthia.” It was not a request.

“Fine. I’ll be but a moment.” Cynthia’s eyes flashed Sammy a warning.

The instant they were alone, Rem caught Sammy’s elbows, dug his fingers demandingly into her skin. “Take it off.”

“Pardon me?”

“The necklace. Take it off. I don’t ever want to see you wearing it again.”

“Remington—”

“Samantha, I’m going through a gamut of emotions right now, none of which I’m enjoying. I want to kill Anders in cold blood, smash that necklace into a thousand fragments and haul you off somewhere where Anders will never find you again.” Rem ravaged her with his eyes. “I need and I ache and I hurt.”