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"Fine."
No more needed to be said. Excluding predawn hours when concealment was assured, the docks were Boyd's undisputed turf. Heavily muscled, intentionally unkempt, a seaman turned tavern keeper, Boyd blended easily into the wharf's riffraff. Rem was different—a respected naval captain, a feared adversary, a welcome drinking and gambling partner. But still, an earl.
"Who do you want from Bow Street?" Boyd asked quietly.
"Templar and Harris. Assure them they'll be well-compensated."
"When and where do we meet?"
"Tonight. One a.m. In Shadwell."
"Annie's place?"
"It's the most prudent choice."
"And the safest." Boyd grinned. "Besides, it'll be added incentive to our men."
"Undoubtedly," Rem agreed dryly. "Just make sure they know that it's business first, pleasure later."
"I will. And you?"
"What about me?"
"Should I ask Annie to arrange for someone special?"
"For yourself, certainly. I'll find my own."
"You always do. And if not, they find you."
Unconsciously, Rem glanced past Boyd to the gleaming Barrett coach. "I'd best take care of my errand."
"Yes ... the inadvertent hero. Well, you certainly look the part. A nobleman, right down to your polished Hessians. That should please Lady Samantha tremendously."
"Very amusing." Rem stubbornly refused to meet the speculative gleam in Boyd's eye. "Now take your cocky grin off to Bow Street. I'll see you at one."
* * *
"Oh, Millie, this one is as dreadful as the last."
Samantha cast the mauve silk gown to the bed. "They all make me look like a child on her way to a birthday party. All that's missing is a gaily wrapped parcel. Can't we find something that makes me look . . . older?"
The frail young lady's maid wrung her hands worriedly. "But they all look beautiful on you, m'lady. I don't know what you have in mind."
The quiver in Millie's voice struck Sammy hard, melting her tender heart. Swiftly she turned, giving the stunned servant an impulsive hug. "I apologize, Millie. I know I'm being terribly difficult. It's just that..." She paused. "Can you keep a secret?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"The gentleman who is returning our carriage. . . he's not just any man."
"No, ma'am?"
"No." Sammy shook her head adamantly. "He is soon to be my betrothed."
"Oh!" Millie's jaw dropped. "But I thought. . . that is, Lady Gertrude . . . what I mean is—"
"My aunt knows nothing about this," Sammy cautioned at once. She frowned, biting her lower lip. "Unfortunately, neither does the gentleman in question. But he will—soon."
"I don't understand."
