Andrea Kane (12 page)

“Then perhaps I should continue in that vein.”

Boyd made a wide sweep with his hand. “Go ahead. You can have virtually any woman you want. What’s stopping you?”

“Shut up, Boyd.”

“No, I don’t think another woman would be your solution,” Boyd continued, unbothered by Rem’s warning scowl. “Not any longer. I think it’s this particular woman you want … and I think you want her in more than just your bed.”

“This conversation is pointless.” Brusquely, Rem cut Boyd off, his expression fierce. “Whether or not I want Samantha Barrett—in bed or out—is irrelevant. It’s not going to happen. She has her fanciful dreams, and I have a job to do.”

“But what if—”

“Enough, Boyd! I mean it.” Rem rubbed his temples. “Did the Bow Street Magistrate come through?”

“I just left Harris. The magistrate will have the order prepared by morning. Harris and Templar will begin visiting the shipping companies on their lists tomorrow.”

“Fine. Unless something happens sooner, let’s meet with them on Monday night at Annie’s.”

Boyd nodded. “I stopped by the docks. No news yet. But it’s still early.”

Early. The word clicked in Rem’s head, bringing to mind the data he’d acquired from one of his informants just prior to last night’s ball. He should have taken care of it first thing this morning, but he’d been so bloody preoccupied with thoughts of Samantha. “What time is it?” he demanded.

“A little after ten. Why?”

“I’ve got to change clothes. I’m off to see Goddfrey; I want to surprise him by noon.”

“Goddfrey … I thought he fled after that last ship of his went down?”

“He did. I’ve tracked him down in Bedfordshire. I have some questions for him before he bolts for parts unknown.”

“Such as?”

“Evidently, Goddfrey’s business reverses are severe, and have been steadily worsening for some time. Coincidentally, more than a few of his ships have been among those lost—enough to collect a substantial amount in insurance.”

“A possible motive,” Boyd commented.

“Indeed. And his sudden attack of conscience makes me want to chat with him before he vanishes into thin air.”

“Understood. But why by noon?”

“Because I need to be back in London by late afternoon,” Rem replied offhandedly. “I’m taking Samantha for a ride in Hyde Park at five.”

“I see.”

“Wipe that smug look off your face, Boyd. I arranged the outing to discover exactly what Samantha knows about Barrett Shipping.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Boyd came to his feet. “I’m certain you can unearth numerous truths from Lady Samantha—and possibly from yourself in the process.” He grinned, placing his empty cup on the desk. “You know, Rem, it is a bit chilly during the fashionable hour. Might I suggest you abandon your phaeton in favor of your coach? It affords a good deal more warmth … and privacy.”

“You’re treading dangerously, Boyd, very dangerously.”

Unconcerned, Boyd chuckled. “You’ll have to fill me in later; on Goddfrey … and on your fruitful outing in the park.”

“Oh! I beg your pardon.”

The Viscount Goddfrey recovered his balance in the inn entranceway, glancing up quickly to see if the person with whom he’d just collided was unhurt. “Gresham?” He paled.

“Goddfrey, whatever are you doing here?” Rem smoothed his coat, his brows lifting in apparent surprise.

“I’m … that is …” Goddfrey swallowed audibly. “I’m meeting someone.”

“As am I. Quite a coincidence.” Impatiently, Rem glared up and down the quiet street. “However, my colleague is late.” He frowned. “And yours?”

“Late as well.”

Rem’s eyes widened as if a brilliant notion had just occurred to him. “Being that both our associates have evidently been detained, can I interest you in joining me for a glass of claret?”

“C-Certainly.”

Seated in the inn’s coffee room, Rem casually crossed one leg over the other and savored his drink. “I’m pleased to see you looking so well, Goddfrey. I was terribly sorry to hear about your recent misfortune.”

Goddfrey started. “Pardon me?”

“Your ship. A terrible loss.”

“Oh, yes … my ship.” Goddfrey seemed to relax. “Well, ’twas far from the first that’s gone down.”

“True, but I gather that you’ve been particularly hard hit. Isn’t this the fourth ship you’ve lost?”

“Yes.”

“Thank goodness there is insurance to cover such devastating mishaps. Have you collected already?”

“No, Gresham, I haven’t.” Goddfrey gulped down his drink and ordered another, polishing it off in record time. He signaled for a third glass of claret. “Who did you say you were meeting?”

“An old navy chum, actually. We haven’t seen each other in years. It doesn’t surprise me that he’s yet to arrive—Broderick is notoriously late.” Abruptly, Rem leaned forward. “Forgive my presumptuousness, Goddfrey, but if a small loan would help make things easier until the insurance is paid, I’d be happy to—”

“No!” Goddfrey leapt to his feet. “I’m not taking another cent!” Sweat dotted his forehead. “Who sent you, Gresham? Why are you offering me money?”

Rem blinked. “What do you mean? I’m only proposing—”

“Are you working with Knollwood? Did he pay you to track me down? Is that what this chance meeting is all about?”

“Sit down Goddfrey,” Rem said quietly. “No one sent me. But perhaps it’s fortunate we did run into each other. Your drink has arrived. Finish it. Then tell me who Knollwood is and why he so desperately wants to find you.”

Goddfrey sank back down, shaking. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“I don’t recall cheating you in the past.” Rem grinned. “Not even at whist; and you are perhaps the worst card player I’ve ever met. I think you also know me to be extremely discreet—with my reputation, I have to be.” Rem’s grin faded. “Besides, it appears to me that you have to trust someone.”

The viscount didn’t smile, but he did toss off his drink. “He’s a parasite, Gresham. A filthy bastard who makes his living off pathetic souls like me. I owe him a bloody fortune … and I can’t pay it.”

“How much do you owe him?”

“Two hundred thousand pounds. I kept praying for a miracle. …None occurred.”

Silently, Rem studied Goddfrey’s bent head. “Certainly your insurance pays enough—”

“Not in time. Knollwood wants his money now.” Goddfrey laughed bitterly. “The ironic thing is, I dispatched that last ship posthaste because the merchant whose cargo it carried was willing to pay me an exorbitant sum of money to do so. It held three English-built carriages, and evidently, the American importer for whom they were destined had a very urgent, very rich customer awaiting their arrival.” Goddfrey buried his head in his hands. “I should have checked the ship more thoroughly … had a carpenter go through it, especially in light of all the sea disasters. But I didn’t. I needed that money so badly, I silenced my own conscience. Dozens of men are dead now because of my greed, and I’ve lost the finest captain I ever had.”

“Who is this merchant?”

“Hayes.”

A dead end. Rem knew Hayes well. He was as decent a man as they came. A sudden possibility gnawed at the edges of Rem’s mind. “This Knollwood—did he know you hadn’t the time to check your ship?”

“I assume so … why?”

Because,
Rem thought,
perhaps the bloodsucker’s crimes are far more sinister than extortion.
“I was just wondering if he expected you to bolt—the combination of guilt and pressure would be too much for many men to handle.”

“I cannot go back, Gresham.” Tears filled Goddfrey’s eyes. “I have nothing to offer him in terms of payment … nothing.”

“What about your family? Surely they’re worried sick over your whereabouts?”

“My wife has no knowledge of our dire straits. She would cheerfully hand me over to Knollwood if she did.”

“Running will solve nothing.”

“Staying will solve less.”

Rem inhaled sharply, weighing his options. Instinct told him that Goddfrey’s guilt extended only as far as carelessness, greed, and weakness of character. It also told him that the viscount was at the end of his rope. The question was, how could he assist Goddfrey without revealing too much?

“I beg of you, Gresham. Don’t tell anyone you saw me. By nightfall I’ll be gone. If Knollwood should learn of my previous whereabouts, he’ll come after me.”

“I’ll make a deal with you, Goddfrey,” Rem replied. “I’ll tell no one of our meeting … under one condition.”

“Which is?”

“Tell me all you know about this low-life Knollwood.”

“Why?” Suspicion flashed in Goddfrey’s eyes.

“Because I want to anonymously alert the authorities that he should be investigated. I won’t mention your name or my own. But wouldn’t it ease your guilt to know you’ve spared others the agony you’re now experiencing?”

A brief silence, then a nod. “I know very little about him. I don’t find him—he finds me.”

“Where?”

“At the Tower. Always at one
A.M.
He sends a message to my office.”

“How does he know when you need money?”

Goddfrey shrugged. “He just does. He also decides when to demand repayment. And the price he exacts is excruciatingly high.”

“What does he look like?”

“Short. Plump. Pale blue eyes. Unkempt gray hair. Of middle years. That’s really all I can tell you.”

“It’s enough. I’ll take it from here.” Rem slid his chair back.

“Gresham!” Goddfrey bolted to his feet. “Remember, you swore not to tell anyone.”

“And I won’t.” Rem rose, gazing at Goddfrey with a somber, pitying expression. “However, I will need to know your destination.” He held up his hand to ward off Goddfrey’s immediate protest. “I give you my word I’ll share the information with no one.”

“Why do you need to know where I’ll be?”

“Because if Knollwood is apprehended, I’ll be able to advise you.”

“I’m not sure it matters anymore … at least not to me. My life is beyond redemption.”

“Well, it matters to me. Have you forgotten that you owe me fifty pounds from our last evening at White’s? I intend to make certain you return to London this Season so that I might collect.”

Goddfrey smiled faintly. “Thank you, Gresham.” Furtively, he looked about the coffee room. “I’m staying with a distant cousin in Edinburgh. I’ll write down his address for you.”

Rem took the slip of paper and rose. “Good. Now I’m off to meet my friend. Stay well, Goddfrey. And don’t lose heart.”

Samantha was waiting at the door when Rem arrived. “Hello, my lord.”

Rem couldn’t help but smile, despite his pensive mood. “You’re supposed to keep me fashionably waiting, imp. You also have servants to answer the door.”

“I know. I’m terribly impulsive. But I couldn’t wait.”

“You look lovely.” Rem drank in her elegant white muslin carriage dress, more than a hint of pleasure in his gaze. Her innocent beauty was a wondrous balm after the ugly events of the day.

“And you look dashing.” Boldly, she studied his dark trousers, Wellington boots, and striped waistcoat. “A splendid escort.”

He chuckled. “Shall we?”

“I suppose we must wait for Millie.” Sammy glanced impatiently toward the stairs. “She should be down in a moment.”

“I’m ready, my lady.” Millie scurried down and curtsied. “Good afternoon, my lord.”

“Good afternoon, Millie.” Rem turned back to Sammy. “Our chariot awaits.”

“Oh, you didn’t bring a phaeton!” Sammy sounded ecstatic, for much the reason Boyd had, Rem suspected. In truth, he didn’t know why he’d brought the enclosed coach. He’d told himself it was because he would acquire more information from Lady Samantha if there were fewer distractions. Now, feeling the inexorable pull between them, he wondered if he’d been lying to himself.

“It’s a lovely evening, Millie. Enjoy the fresh air,” Sammy called gaily, gesturing toward the coach’s rear outer seat.

“But …” Millie looked flabbergasted. She had no opportunity to elaborate, because Sammy had already climbed into the chariot.

Rem handed Millie up to her designated seat beside the coachmen, before climbing in beside Sammy and ordering his driver to proceed.

He then promptly burst out laughing.

“You are incorrigible; do you know that, imp? Have you any idea how tattered your reputation will be if anyone should realize we are alone in this carriage?”

“I don’t care.” Sammy leaned forward. “I wish to be alone with you.”

“And I wish to be alone with you.” The words were out before Rem could evaluate them, but he knew immediately that his pleasure had little to do with his mission. Whatever he hoped to learn from Samantha could wait a few minutes. For now he just wanted to immerse himself in her exuberance. “So, did you enjoy your first ball at Almack’s?”

“You know I did.”

“Any lingering fatigue from your ceaseless night of dancing?”

“None.”

“Did any of the gentlemen that comprised your multitude of admirers make an impression on you?” Now why the hell was he asking that?

Sammy shrugged. “A few of them asked to call on me.”

“Like Anders?”

Her brows arched in surprise. “Yes, the Viscount Anders did ask if he might call.”

“The man is a master at seduction—a noted blackguard with the morals of a snake, and a reputation to equal it.”

“Like you, my lord?” Sammy’s eyes twinkled.

Rem sucked in his breath. “No … yes. Dammit, Samantha, I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I won’t get hurt, Remington,” she replied softly. “I told you—you’ll protect me.”

Gazing into those trusting eyes, green as a summer meadow, Rem felt his chest constrict. Without thinking, he drew her against him, tunneling his fingers through her thick sable tresses. “What am I going to do with you, imp?”

“I believe you asked me that question, as well. And I answered it.”

His eyes gleamed. “So you did. And is the answer still the same?”

“It is.”

“Very well … kiss me, my beautiful romantic.” He caressed the sides of her neck with his thumbs, guided by a need that unfolded with a life of its own. “I can imagine nothing more magnificent than tasting your soft, sweet mouth.”

Sammy needed no encouragement. “Last night,” she whispered, stroking Rem’s jaw, “when you kissed me … it was heaven. I dreamed about it all night.”