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"Why don't you have a seat, Millie?" he suggested, gesturing toward the row of benches outside Hatchard's, where a line of patient servants awaited their employers. "I'm certain we shan't be long."
"Oh, thank you, m'lord." Millie curtsied, then darted to the bench like a relieved prisoner whose life had just been spared.
Still grinning, Rem entered the bookstore, scanning the busy room for Samantha. He met three colleagues with whom he gambled at White's before he spotted her, submerged in a copy of Mansfield Park.
"Enjoying yourself, imp?"
Sammy raised glowing eyes to his. "Yes ... immensely. I've already spied four or five new Gothics I have yet to read, and, of course"—she caressed the book lovingly—"this."
"Don't let me disturb you. I'll select the volumes I need for my library. You'll find me by the fire reading the dailies."
"Mmm ... I'll just be a minute." Sammy was already reimmersed in her book.
An hour later Rem was still settled by Hatchard's fireplace. He picked up a copy of the London Times and began scanning the pages containing news. Abruptly, the words:
BRITISH SHIPS CONTINUE TO VANISH MYSTERIOUSLY sprang out at him.
"Bloody hell," he muttered, poring over the article.
It was as bad as he feared. Despite the sketchy details provided, there was enough information to cause alarm among the business community. Concern was escalating proportionately with the number of missing ships. A few more articles such as this, and England's trading partners would balk, her insurance rates soar—and havoc would be wreaked on the English economy. He had to unearth the culprit, and soon.
"Have you finished your business?" Sammy asked from beside his elbow.
"No. That is, yes, I'm finished here." Rem slapped down the paper.
Sammy frowned at his brusqueness. "Did I tarry too long?"
"No, of course not." He rose. "I was just engrossed in an article."
Reflexively, Samantha glanced down at the page Rem had been reading. "So many ships lost," she murmured, shaking her head in obvious distress. "It seems that British waters are no longer safe."
He tensed like a bowstring. "Why do you say that?"
"Because, as you've obviously just read, quite a few ships have gone down these past months. One of the lost schooners was built by Barrett Shipping. Drake is very concerned and very angry." At the speculative lift of Rem's brows, she explained, "If you know my brother, you know that he is an extremely proud and volatile man. Even the vaguest suggestion that his family's company would produce an inferior quality vessel sends him into a tirade."
"Has someone actually accused—"
"No, of course not. Anyone who's had business dealings with Drake knows he's the most honorable, trustworthy—"
"I agree," Rem interrupted. Nonchalantly, he refolded the newspaper. "Has your brother any clue as to what might have caused his ship to go down?"
"None." Sammy shook her head. "But all of our colleagues are becoming increasingly alarmed. Barrett Shipping has been lucky—we've lost only one ship. Some of our competitors have suffered more severe losses. Why, I overheard Lord Hartley, an old and dear friend of Father's, telling Drake that three vessels manufactured by his shipbuilding company have been lost in as many months."
"A significant number," Rem agreed, vividly recalling the detailed list Briggs had given him at Boydry's. Yes, three of the missing ships had been Hartley's, while only one had been built by Barrett Shipping. Samantha's information was indeed accurate—remarkably so.
An unwanted idea materialized in Rem's brain.
"You're acquainted with many people in the shipbuilding industry, are you not?" he asked casually.
"I suppose so ... Why?"
Rem fought a raging battle with his conscience, and won. A link was a link and had to be taken. "I'm impressed, that's all. I hadn't realized you were so involved in your brother's business."
"You
hadn't realized I had grown past the age of six." Her quip broke through the rapid-fire pace of his thoughts, and he smiled—a bone-melting smile. "But you have grown, haven't you, Samantha?" he murmured huskily.
"Indeed I have," Sammy replied, lifting her chin a notch. "Quite a bit, actually."
