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"Oh, I understand," Sammy assured him brightly. "Remington spends a good portion of his time charming women, and the rest of his time bedding those he has charmed. Isn't that right?"
Smitty's mouth dropped open.
"I'm touched by your concern, truly I am." Sammy squeezed Smitty's arm. "But your request that I stop seeing Remington would be quite impossible for me to honor."
"And why is that?" Smitty's voice sounded strangled.
"Because, as I told you, I plan to wed him." She watched in dismay as Smitty sagged against the wall. "Of course, first I'll reform his rakish ways. Please don't worry, Smitty. Remington has exercised"—she frowned, perplexed by the truth of her own revelation—"inordinate self-restraint with me."
Taking pity on Smitty's ashen expression, Sammy curbed her own speculations and attempted to soften the blow. "In the interim, Viscount Anders will be calling tomorrow. So I'm acquainting myself with many eligible gentlemen ... at least until Remington comes to his senses and proposes. All right?"
She didn't wait for a reply. "I was wondering if you recall a gentleman named Goddfrey who does business with Drake?"
"Pardon me?" The abrupt change in subject was too much for Smitty to absorb. He still hadn't recovered from the shock of Samantha's proclamation.
"Goddfrey. Does that name sound familiar?"
"Uh ... yes, my lady." Smitty shook his head to clear it. "The Viscount Goddfrey owns a fairly substantial shipping company in London. He's purchased quite a few ships from your brother over the past years. Why do you ask?"
Sammy tried to look casual. "Oh, because last night at Almack's I overheard some gentlemen discussing the fact that several of the viscount's vessels had been lost.... I was hoping Barrett Shipping hadn't constructed them."
"I don't believe so, my lady."
"The gentlemen also mentioned that Viscount Goddfrey had bolted."
"Idle gossip, I'm certain." Smitty sounded equally as uncomfortable with this subject as he had with the previous one. "If I were you, I shouldn't waste my time on business matters, Lady Samantha. Nor on the Earl of Gresham," he repeated emphatically, bringing the conversation back to its original topic. "Your great aunt will undoubtedly introduce you to many suitable escorts during the Season."
"Actually, Aunt Gertie was quite taken with Remington," Sammy replied, a twinkle in her eye.
"Perhaps she hasn't heard of his reputation."
That's very likely. Aunt Gertie hasn't heard anything for years now." Sammy laughed and leaned up to kiss Smitty's weathered cheek. "Stop fretting. I'll be fine." She gave him a warm hug. "I'm going to my bedchamber to continue reading Mansfield Park. I'll be down for dinner."
Hearing her footsteps fade away, Smitty mopped his damp brow with a handkerchief. Facing an armed naval brigade was beginning to look infinitely more appealing to him than chaperoning Lady Samantha through her first London Season.
And being taken prisoner would pale in comparison to facing the duke.
Rem tore Boyd's message into shreds and tossed the remains into the fire. Good. The groundwork had been laid. Rumors were already circulating that Rem had just lost a sizable fortune on an ill-fated business venture, and that he was in grave financial straits. Icily, he wondered how long it would take the news to reach Knollwood. Goddfrey had implied that the bloodsucker acquired his information posthaste. That remained to be seen. But in the meantime, all Rem could do was wait.
Goddfrey.
The viscount's name triggered the same unanswered question that had nagged at Rem since yesterday's ride in Hyde Park. What did Samantha know of Goddfrey's predicament? How had she linked Goddfrey's name with the vanishing ships? Where the hell did she get her facts?
The logical answer was from her brother. Drake Barrett must have a private source of information; Rem knew he had to learn what, or who, that was. Tonight. He'd gently pry the facts from Samantha tonight, without further encouraging her romantic fantasy.
Which was turning into his sexual preoccupation.
It had to stop. Now.
Only hurt could result from fueling the passion that blazed between him and Drake Barrett's sister. Rem refused to succumb to it—not when the result would mean Samantha's ruin. There was no other plausible alternative. A lasting relationship was inconceivable in his type of life. His future consisted of but two things, both of which thoroughly conflicted with Samantha's dreams of marriage and family: freedom to satisfy his missions, and variety to satisfy his passions.
Variety. An amusing concept, he reflected with a self-deprecating smile. In truth, he hadn't sought out one damned woman since the night he'd met Samantha ... nor had he any desire to do so.
Well, he'd have to change all that. Immediately.
Jaw set with purpose, Rem headed upstairs to dress for the opera.
His final thought was that he'd kill Anders if the bastard so much as touched Samantha.
