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Cynthia blinked. "Pardon me?"
Sammy seized Cynthia's sleeve. "You're coming home with me."
"I'm what? But I don't even know you!"
"My name is Samantha Barrett. I'm in London for my first Season. I'm staying with my aunt Gertrude. I have a brother named Drake, a temporary guardian named Smitty, a puppy named Rascal, and a collection of books as long as this street. What more do you need to know?"
"Why would you do this for me?"
"Because I like you. Because you saved my life. Because I hate what you've endured. Because it causes me great heartache to think of you forcing yourself to lie with men you care nothing for. Are those reasons enough?"
Cynthia shook her head in disbelief. "Does the Earl of Gresham know what he's getting himself into?"
The light in Sammy's eyes dimmed. "Evidently, whatever he's getting himself into tonight doesn't involve me."
"You're in love with him."
"Hopelessly."
"You're a fool."
"Definitely."
"Perhaps I will go home with you after all, Samantha," Cynthia decided on impulse. "I begin to see that you need help as much as I do. By accepting your kind offer, I'll be able to offer you the benefit of my insight."
"Wonderful! Can you leave right away?"
"Let me talk with Annie," Cynthia glanced curiously up and down the deserted street. "Is your carriage around back?"
"My carriage? Oh, goodness, I have none!"
"Then how did you get here?"
"In Remington's phaeton."
"He allowed you to accompany him to—"
"He didn't know. I hid."
Cynthia threw back her head and laughed. "Remington Worth has quite a challenge ahead of him." She drew Sammy to the door of the brothel. "Stand right here. That way I'll be able to see you, but your earl won't. Once I explain the situation to Annie, she'll arrange a ride for us."
"Will she be angry?"
"No. Contrary to what you might believe, the women here are far more honest and straightforward than the men who visit them. Many do this only as a means of survival. . . and Annie knows it. She's very shrewd. And, while I never told her exactly what happened to me, I'm sure she suspects. She won't stand in my way."
"Go ahead, then. I'll wait."
"Don't wander," Cynthia warned.
"Don't worry, I wouldn't even consider it." Sammy huddled nervously against the door.
Twenty minutes later Cynthia and Sammy were settled in a carriage, speeding toward the fashionable West End of London and Abingdon Street.
"What will you tell your aunt?" Cynthia asked curiously.
"Something loud enough for her to hear. But Aunt Gertie won't be my problem. My problem will be Smitty."
"Smitty?"
