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"Anders referred to a partner, too? You're sure?"
"Of course I'm sure! Anders was the one who said their partner made him uneasy because he was so skittish about his investment. Is that significant?"
"There's someone else working with them," Rem said aloud.
"But who?" Boyd rubbed his chin.
"I intend to find out." Rem rose. "Harris, why don't you take Captain Towers home with you? It will give him a safe, comfortable place to stay while we're gathering our facts."
An unspoken message passed between Rem and Harris. Towers's life hung in the balance; it was up to them to keep him alive.
"No problem." Harris stood. "Come, Captain. You must be exhausted."
Towers cleared his throat. "I owe you all a great debt of thanks, which I'm unsure how to repay."
"No thanks are necessary." Rem's stance stiffened, his gaze locked with Towers's. "But you never saw Hayword and me before in your life, so you certainly wouldn't recognize us if you saw us again. Isn't that correct?"
"Absolutely."
"Good." The tension eased from Rem's body as quickly as it had come. "Thank you for talking to us. You're in good hands."
"Obviously, so is England," Towers murmured in an awed tone.
Rem glanced at Harris. "Nice work." With
that, he was gone.
"Your Grace?" Hatterly, the Barrett's Town house butler, rubbed his eyes and tightened the belt of his robe. "Forgive me, sir, I had no idea you'd be arriving."
"Nor did I." Drake swung off his greatcoat. "I apologize for disrupting your sleep. I assume my sister is abed?"
"Why, I assume so, sir."
"Good. I want to see her." Drake was already halfway to the steps.
"Your Grace?" Smitty made his way down the hall, not only awake, but fully dressed and alert at half after four in the morning. Serving by Drake's side, Smitty had grown accustomed to arising before dawn, both at home and at sea. "We had no idea you'd be visiting... what a wonderful surprise!"
"I doubt you'll feel that way in a few minutes, Smitty," Drake muttered for his valet's ears alone. "May I see you in the sitting room?" he said aloud.
"Of course." With a cordial nod, Smitty followed. Drake closed the doors behind them. "We're alone now. Let's dispense with the pretense and the formalities. What the hell is going on here?"
A corner of Smitty's mouth lifted. "Why I do believe you've missed me."
"Very funny." Drake didn't smile. "As a matter of fact, I find getting along without you extremely difficult. After all these years, I rely upon your friendship, your insight, and your skill. In fact, there are very few situations that could convince me to part with you, even for a short while." Drake folded his arms across his chest. "One of those situations, however, happens to be my sister's coming out. So, I'm asking you again—what the hell is going on here?" "I heard you the first time, Your Grace. What specific aspect of Lady Samantha's Season are you referring to?"
"The Viscount Anders. The Earl of Gresham. Am I being specific enough for you?"
Smitty paled a bit. Loyalty to Drake warred with loyalty to Samantha. "I do recall informing you that Lord Gresham came to our rescue when that horrendous storm suspended our trip to London."
"And I recall informing you that I'd thanked Lord Gresham in person when he came to Allonshire. What about since then? Have either Gresham or Anders been pursuing Sammy?"
"Lady Samantha has attended so very many balls...." Smitty hedged. "It's hard to recall all the gentlemen who have made a favorable impression on her."
"Try."
"Have I mentioned how highly Lady Gertrude regards both Viscount Anders and the Earl of Gresham?"
"Lady Gertrude?" Drake sputtered. "Smitty, my aunt wouldn't know a rake from a clergyman. So that's hardly consolation, is it? Now, cease this cat and mouse game and answer my question."
