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"And I expect he'll be there for a very long time. So, as I said, no thanks or repayment are necessary. Unless, of course, you'd like to join our game and allow me to divest you of your money at the whist table."
"Someday perhaps," Goddfrey agreed, without a trace of bitterness or regret. "But not just yet. I have things to put in order and a profit to show before I'm ready to resume gambling. My priorities have changed—significantly."
"I understand. And I wish you the best of luck."
Goddfrey gestured toward the card room. "You'd best join the others. An
d I shall join my family." He cleared his throat. "I'll never forget what you've done for me. Should you ever need a favor, you know where to turn."
Rem watched Goddfrey go, feeling that familiar, incomparable sense of peace that always pervaded him when he'd seen justice served. The rightness made all the ugliness worthwhile.
Lost in thought, Rem returned to the card room, absently noting that the whist table was now full, save him.
"Good evening, Gresham. It's been some time."
Sliding into his seat, Rem glanced across the table and nodded cordially to the elderly Marquis of Hartley. "How have you been, Hartley?"
"Well. Quite well. It appears you and I are partners this evening."
"Excellent. We should do splendidly. I'm feeling especially lucky tonight."
"Then, 'tis a pity we're not partners, Gresham," an unwelcome voice responded. "I've been extraordinarily lucky throughout the day, and my good fortune promises to continue well into the evening ... and beyond."
The pointed words and polished smile came from Viscount Anders.
It took Rem a split second to respond—not because he hadn't a ready answer, but because he was seriously considering knocking the smug look off the viscount's face. Quickly, he reconsidered. Making a scene was the most imprudent thing he could do. It would necessitate an explanation, which would, in turn, dredge up the cause of their rivalry and implicate Samantha in precisely the way he had vowed to avoid. Moreover, his own curiosity was now doubly peaked by Anders's appearance at the whist table. The Bow Street men had confirmed that the viscount's records proclaimed him as nearly bankrupt. Yet, in the past two days, Anders had gifted Samantha with an extravagant bejeweled necklace and was now complacently sitting in White's, prepared to enter into a potentially high-stakes game of whist.
Where the hell was this bastard getting his money? Keeping his expression carefully blank, Rem replied, "What we have in common, Anders, is that we both play to win."
"True. How regrettable that only one of us can do so." Anders inclined his head toward Gladdington. "Deal."
"So, where have you been keeping yourself, Gresham?" Hartley inquired. "You've been conspicuously absent from the card rooms."
Rem arranged his hand. "Actually, I've just joined the ranks of the shipping community."
"Have you?" All three men looked surprised.
"Indeed. Plans for my brig are in the making. With a modicum of luck, I'll soon be reaping the profits of merchant trade." Intently, Rem studied his cards. "I'm ready to begin whenever you are, gentlemen."
"What do you know about the shipping trade?" Anders demanded.
Rem looked vastly amused. "Need I remind you that the sea was my home during the decade I served the Royal Navy? I assure you, no one can assess the potential of a ship better than I. As for trade, let's just say that I make it my business to thoroughly research a subject before I invest my money. And who knows? Perhaps with my experience, I can make my fleet immune to whatever disasters seem to be befalling England's vessels."
Hartley took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. "Who, may I ask, is constructing your brig?"
"Barrett Shipping." Rem met the marquis's anxious gaze. "Your company is more than reputable and highly trustworthy, Hartley," he assured him. "But I've done business with Drake Barrett in the past and—"
Hartley cut Rem short. "Please, you needn't explain. Grayson Barrett was my dearest friend. His son Drake is a fine man and their company is above reproach. I harbor no resentments. I merely asked." He cleared his throat. "The brig Anders just lost... that was built by Barrett Shipping, was it not?"
"It was."
"I was afraid so." Hartley shook his head nervously. Three of the lost ships were constructed by my company," he admitted. "The situation is terribly unsettling."
"Are we going to play whist or commiserate about our lost ships?" Anders bit out.
Testy,
Rem mused, casting a sidelong glance in Anders's direction. I wonder why. "Fine," he said aloud. "Let's begin." The first hand was over quickly, Rem skillfully managing to accumulate an exorbitant number of points.
