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"What about Towers's description?"
"Despite the captain's belief that he'd committed the culprit's face to memory, his actual description was weak. Average height, heavyset, black hair, beard."
"That sounds like every bloody sailor in London."
"Exactly."
"Perhaps I should talk to Towers myself."
"I think that's wise," Boyd agreed. "You have a way of helping people remember information they never knew they possessed."
"Fine. I'll visit Towers tonight." Crossing the room, Rem retrieved the discarded note only long enough to tear it to shreds and toss the remains into the fire.
Boyd's glass paused halfway to his lips. "You're going to Harris's place? Wouldn't it be safer to follow our usual procedure and meet at Annie's? Harris could bring Towers with him."
"No. I can't risk Captain Towers showing himself in public. If Summerson or his privateer were to spot him, his life wouldn't be worth a damn."
"Neither will your position with the Admiralty if you start visiting the Bow Street men at their homes. Meeting them for a drink is one thing, calling on them socially is another. If anyone sees you—"
"Maybe it doesn't matter anymore," Rem replied softly. His vital proclamation hung in the air like the charged aftermath of gunfire.
Boyd's sober gaze met Rem's, astute but unsurprised. "No, maybe it doesn't," he agreed.
Silence permeated the room as the significance of what was occurring sank in.
At last Rem gave an ironic laugh. "I never would have believed this if it weren't happening. An eighteen-year-old romantic innocent... and I can barely get through each day without her. Me; the skeptic, the impervious rake. Inconceivable, wouldn't you say?"
"No. Miraculous, I would say. You're a lucky man, Rem."
"I won't dispute that fact." Rem didn't smile. "It's as if Samantha is pouring all the good back inside me."
Boyd nodded his understanding. "Based upon your inference that protecting your identity is no longer important, I presume you've been giving thought to the future ... to what you intend once you and Samantha are wed."
"I think of little else. I can't put her at risk, Boyd, and you know she would be if she were privy to my full involvement with the Admiralty. Nor can I stash her away at Gresham, keep her separate from what I do, as I once thought I would."
"Because she's suspicious of your activities?"
"Because she's Samantha." Rem savored each word as he uttered it; a decision he'd come to days ago but was only first giving voice to. "Because I love her too much to place her second in my life. Hell, because I want her with me all the time, every day, everywhere. Because I want to give her everything she needs, everything I need: my heart, my future, my children." Rem broke off, wonder in his eyes.
"It's time, isn't it?" Boyd pronounced gently. "Finally, my friend, it's time. For both of us," he added.
The implication of Boyd's final phrase struck home.
"Cynthia?" Rem questioned.
"Cynthia." Boyd grinned. "Of course, she doesn't know it yet, although I'm arrogant enough to believe she cares. And as I've said, I'm a patient man. A few months is a small price to pay for a lifetime."
Peace, unimaginable but absolute, pervaded Rein's soul. "Fate works in strange ways, doesn't it?"
Boyd nodded. "It's time to rebuild our lives."
"I agree. And not only because of Samantha and Cynthia, although, Lord knows, they're the finest of incentives." Seeing Boyd's quizzical look, Rem clarified, "Instinct tells me we've beaten the odds too many times, my friend, and that discovery is no longer eventual but imminent. Ten years is a long time to flirt with danger in our own backyard."
"You're saying we should quit while we're ahead ... or, in this case, alive?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying. We've trained Harris and Templar well. With occasional guidance from us, Briggs will scarcely notice we're gone." Rem's lips set in a grim line. "But first we're going to uncover the plot behind those missing ships and put Anders and Summerson in Newgate where they belong. Them, their privateer friend, and whoever else they're working with. I'm half tempted to seize Anders and beat the truth out of him. But enticing as that prospect might be, it's too risky. If assaulting Anders doesn't scare him into giving us the names we need, we'll have alerted his anonymous partner, who will then escape unpunished. If only we could find a way to make them surface on their own—" Abruptly, Rem stopped, a steely light dawning in his eyes.
"I know that look. You've thought of something."
