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"Your reasoning is not ludicrous." Rem smoothed the pucker from between her brows. "And there is truth to it—Goddfrey was in trouble. He was being blackmailed by an unscrupulous scoundrel who, at one point, I suspected was involved in the sinkings. He wasn't. He also won't be extorting money from anyone again."
The triumphant gleam in Rein's eye struck Sammy instantly. "You apprehended him yourself, didn't you?" she guessed.
"With some help." Rem grinned. "Remember that meeting at Annie's you accompanied me to, uninvited? That's what we were discussing. 'Tis also why I had to feign financial difficulties ... even to you. Although I must admit I found your compassion more moving than I can say."
"You were setting the stage for this scoundrel's downfall!"
"Precisely."
Rem's earlier revelation precipitated another question. "With some help," Sammy repeated. "Is Boyd working with you as well?"
"Boyd will be offering his resignation along with mine. And, despite our long-term friendship, I suspect I have little to do with his decision."
"Cynthia." Sammy's eyes twinkled.
"Indeed."
"They'll be wonderful together. I know it." A pause. "Rem, if Lord Goddfrey isn't involved, then who is?"
Rem's features hardened to granite. "We haven't yet discovered all the conspirators. The identity of at least one is still an enigma to us. We do know that his two other partners have employed a privateer to attack the vessels ... and we have a thorough description of that pirate."
"Two other partners? Do you know who they are?"
"We do." Rem's probing gaze met Sammy's. "They are Arthur Summerson the merchant and the Viscount Anders."
A harsh gasp escaped Sammy's lips. "Stephen?"
"Stephen."
"Dear Lord." Sammy pressed her palms to her cheeks, "You're certain?"
"Very certain. Why do you think I didn't want you anywhere near the bastard?"
"I assumed it was purely jealousy, because Stephen wanted me." Sammy's eyes widened, not with dismay, but with realization. "Was his interest in me all a sham?"
"Unfortunately, no. The scum really does want you. Which makes me want to kill him all the more. I nearly did so that night at Devonshire House when you interrupted his little tete-a-tete with Summerson."
"You were there?"
"A mere fifteen feet away, imp, in the bushes to your right. I followed Anders from Devonshire House. I'd been observing him all night—all week, in fact—trying to fathom his inexplicable and sudden affluence. For a man my sources claimed was nearly destitute, he seemed to be affording some rather extravagant diversions: a high-stake game of whist at which he cheerfully lost thousands of pounds, and an enormously expensive necklace."
"The one he gave me."
"Yes. So, when I saw how jumpy he was at the Devonshire ball, I became curious. I followed him across the grounds and hid in the bushes while he met with Summerson ... which is where I was when you came looking for me. As for Summerson, that was a revelation. Until that moment I had no idea he was involved. Speaking of Summerson"—Rem took Sammy's hands in his—"upon your intrusion, he behaved rather oddly. He watched you scurry off and threatened to go after you, muttering something about this being the second meeting of theirs you'd interrupted and about your looking familiar—and I don't mean as Drake Barrett's sister. Think, imp, do you know what he meant?"
Sammy lowered her eyes. "I know exactly what he meant ... and it will explain to you why I 'scurried off,' as you put it. The morning I visited Stephen's office—do you recall; it was the day you and Boyd came upon Cynthia and me at the docks ... ?"
"I remember. The morning after Anders's ship went down."
She nodded. "When I first entered Stephen's office, another man was there talking with him. I had the distinct feeling I'd interrupted a heated discussion."
"Arthur Summerson."
"Yes. Even then Mr. Summerson was uncomfortable around me, staring at me as if we'd met before. I convinced him it was because I was a Barrett."
"But it wasn't?"
"No. The dawn I snooped around the wharf in my gardener's clothes, I accidently stumbled upon Lord Hartley deeply immersed in conversation with another gentleman. I knew the marquis would recognize me, boy's clothes or not; he's known me since birth. So I darted between the warehouses and made my escape. I eluded Lord Hartley's detection ... but not his companion's. At the time, I had no idea who that other gentleman was ... until Stephen formally introduced us in his office. It was Arthur Summerson. Evidently, although he'd only spied me beside that warehouse for an instant, he remembered my face."
