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A knock sounded on the bedchamber door.
"Yes?"
"Pardon me, m'lady." The young maid curtsied. "The Earl of Gresham asked me to tell you he has arrived."
"Thank you." Sammy rose, snatching up her wrap. "Good night, Cynthia."
"Samantha—"
"Good night, Cynthia." Pausing in the doorway, Sammy's tone was as emphatic as her stance. She was in no mood for a lecture on the dangers of caring for Rem. Nor did she have any intention of allowing Cynthia to accompany her. "Please," she said softly, inclining her head in Cynthia's direction. "Not tonight."
"Enjoy yourself, my lady." Cynthia's reply was as reluctant as it was relieving.
A tiny smile hovered about Sammy's lips. "Thank you. I shall."
Rounding the second floor landing, Sammy fought the impulse to raise her skirts and dash down the stairs to the sitting room, and Rem. She counted to ten slowly, then began her descent.
Halfway down she halted, clutching the handrail for support.
Rather than doing what was proper—patiently awaiting Sammy's arrival in the sitting room—Rem was standing at the foot of the stairs watching her approach. Hands clasped behind his back, he studied her from beneath hooded lids, drinking her in like a rare and fine wine.
Sammy could feel the intimate possession of his stare burn through her, a hot brand deep inside her.
"I followed your instructions precisely, my lord," she murmured breathlessly, gliding down the final step to meet him. "As promised, I didn't keep you waiting."
"Didn't you?" Rem raised her fingers to his lips, lightly caressing her hand in a kiss as suggestive as it was brief. "It seems I've waited an eternity for you."
Trembling pleasure shimmered through her. "If you continue talking to me like that, I'll be unable to walk, much less dance."
"Then we'll have to adjourn to a bed, won't we?" He pressed his open mouth to her wrist, nudging aside the lilac silk of her sleeve.
"Rem ... don't," she whispered.
"Do you know how beautiful you are?" he questioned huskily, his tongue finding her racing pulse. "Have you any idea how profoundly you affect me?"
"I'm almost afraid to know."
"I'll show you." His fingers closed possessively around hers. "Later."
The sound of footsteps interrupted them.
Glancing up, Sammy saw Smitty approaching, his jaw set. Thankfully, she realized he was too far away to have witnessed the intimacy of Rem's greeting. Still. . .
Swiftly, Sammy urged Rem toward the door. "We'd best be off—before a confrontation ensues."
"My lady, you didn't mention that you'd be going out this evening," Smitty called, scowling at Rem.
"Didn't I? I suppose I was preoccupied with Bonnie." Sammy gave Smitty her most winning smile. "In any case, Lord Gresham and I had best be on our way. He has promised to whisk me in and out of countless parties."
"Where is your aunt Gertrude, may I ask?"
"Abed." Casting pretense aside, Sammy gazed pleadingly up at her guardian. She could, in all candor, demonstrate her eagerness, though she dared not reveal its cause. "Please, Smitty. There are parties at Devonshire House and Chesterfield House, not to mention the elegant soiree at Lord and Lady Rathstone's estate, and innumerable other grand balls. You know how long I've waited for nights such as these. I realize I should be chaperoned, but no one will suspect that I'm not. Aunt Gertrude rarely stays awake past ten o'clock, anyway. After that, she retires to our carriage, where she snores the duration of the evening away." Sammy paused only to suck in air before plunging on in an attempt to win Smitty over, and to soothe his growing agitation. "The point is, no one expects Aunt Gertrude to partake in the merriment. I'll just make my usual excuses, tell everyone she was fatigued. They'll assume she drifted off for a nap. Please, Smitty, I know how you despise impropriety; but just this once, don't say no."
"Lady Gertrude actually sleeps in the carriage, while you . . ." Smitty withdrew his handkerchief and proceeded to mop his brow.
"Smitty . . ." Samantha lay her hand on his arm. "Lord Gresham will keep me safe. You have my word. Please ... let me go."
Indecision warred in Smitty's eyes.
