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Time after glorious time, Rem had proved himself to be her hero: rescuing her, protecting her, cherishing her as he introduced her to a world of dazzling sensations. Now it was her turn. She would be the most valiant of heroines, restore to her hero the peace he craved, and at the same time, heal the scars he abhorred and guide him to the emotional exultation he never knew he yearned for.
Rem was in love with her. Sammy knew it. And once she'd fulfilled her role as his heroine, he would belong to her as totally as she already belonged to him.
Smoothing her bodice, Sammy reminded herself that Rem wasn't aware of the depth of his own feelings. Nor could she thrust them at him. She had to patiently, steadfastly, chip away at the debris surrounding his heart, until it was free of its restrictive burden.
But first she had to find its cause.
It didn't involve a woman. Rem had told her so himself the night they'd attended the opera. He'd implied that his cynicism was precipitated by something far more devastating than a woman's deception.
But what?
Perhaps their upcoming ride through Hyde Park could provide her with some answers ... if she asked the right questions, carefully and without triggering Rem's self-protective mechanism.
Staring solemnly at her reflection, Sammy reminded herself that her goal was monumental, nearly impossible to attain. With the exception of Boyd, she was certain Rem had never confided his pain or his fears in anyone. Conversely, she could never imagine wedding a man who refused to share himself with her. It was an insurmountable impasse.
She could hardly wait to surmount it and become Rem's wife.
Voices drifted up from outside her window, and Sammy peeked through the curtains curiously. She had to smile at what she saw.
In the drive, Boyd was assisting Cynthia into a waiting phaeton, evidently escorting her out for the evening. But what a different Cynthia it was! Laughing, her face aglow, garbed in a feminine blue day dress rather than her primly starched uniform ... Cynthia looked positively radiant. Beaming ear to ear, Boyd climbed in beside her and urged the horses into a trot.
A momentous day off for Cynthia, Sammy thought with a fond grin.
Her grin faded and her heart began to slam against her ribs as, in the phaeton's wake, Rem's closed carriage rounded the drive. A liveried footman scurried about to open the carriage door for the earl, and Rem emerged, all elegant sophistication and unmistakable sexuality.
Sammy wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. The moment of reckoning was upon her.
Steeling herself, Sammy smoothed the folds of her white muslin carriage dress once, twice, trying to still her raw nerves. At last she gave up, opening her bedchamber door in time to collide with a young serving girl.
"Forgive me, m'lady." The girl regained her balance and curtsied, a mortified blush staining her cheeks.
"The fault was mine," Sammy answered gently. "Did you come to tell me that the Earl of Gresham was here?"
"Yes, m'lady. I did."
"Then you've done your job ... and survived a collision with a clumsy and jittery dolt. Thank you."
The girl looked astounded. "Thank you, my lady." Eyes wide, she backed away, then turned and scooted off.
Sammy took a deep breath and started down the hall. Turning the corner, she nearly fell over a sprinting ball of fur that whizzed by her like a streak of white lightning.
"Rascal! For goodness sake!" Sammy clutched the wall for support.
Rascal slowed down only to bark triumphantly, then raced off with the coveted stocking he'd apparently pilfered from Cynthia's room.
Rolling her eyes, Sammy set off for the stairs again, determined to reach them without further mishap. Evidently it was not meant to be.
Rounding the second floor landing, she smacked into Aunt Gertrude, nearly catapulting the elderly woman down the entire flight.
"Oh, Aunt Gertie, I'm so sorry!" Sammy steadied her aunt, wondering if all these casualties heralding her way to Rem were a prelude to the obstacles she would soon face.
"No harm done," Gertrude assured her, blinking a bit. Then she gave Sammy a conspiratorial smile. "Besides, I know why you're in such a hurry! I just saw that handsome Earl of Gresham awaiting you in the sitting room."
"Yes, we're en route to Hyde Park." Guilt pricked at Sammy's conscience as she realized that she was on the verge, yet again, of going out without a proper chaperon. "Please join us, Aunt Gertie." The invitation nearly stuck in her throat. "I'm certain Remington would be delighted to have you as his guest."
"You're right. I do need a rest." Aunt Gertrude yawned. "Have a lovely time, dear." She patted Sammy's arm.
"But Cynthia is off today," Sammy felt compelled to add. "And I'm aware that—"
