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Lover's Path was wickedly deserted, the fragrant aroma of the garden their only companion.
"Have I told you how breathtaking you look tonight?" Rem murmured, guiding Sammy along.
"No, but please do."
Heatedly, Rem surveyed the low-cut bodice and flowing layers of her bottle-green gown. "That color makes your eyes glow like rare pieces of jade."
"I wore it intentionally," Sammy confided, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. "So you would look at me the same way you did at Almack's . . . the last time I wore green."
Rem chuckled. "And have I disappointed you, my honest romantic?"
"No."
The intimate silence that followed made Sammy's heart pound with fevered anticipation.
Her hope was shattered by Rem's next question.
"When did you meet Cynthia?"
Sammy tensed. "Several days ago."
"Really? Smithers must have been tremendously impressed by her references."
"Why do you say that?"
Casually, Rem sipped at his punch. "Because she's a veritable stranger. And you're his most precious charge."
"Are you mocking me?"
"Never. I'm only stating the truth. Your brother's valet is very protective of you—which is why you were entrusted to his care to begin with."
"Actually, Cynthia is almost as protective of me as Smitty is."
"Why is that?"
"She thinks I'm too innocent for my own good."
"I'm not surprised."
Sammy halted, turned to face him. "What does that mean?"
Stopping beside her, Rem tossed off the remains of his drink.
"Why don't you like Cynthia?"
"I don't know her well enough to like or dislike her. Neither, for that matter, do you."
"You're wrong, Remington. I'm not nearly as naive as you think I am."
Another silence.
"When will you stop viewing me as a child?" Sammy tilted her face up to his.
Rem smiled, traced his forefinger down the bridge of her nose. "I never viewed you as a child, imp. A very beautiful, very romantic distraction, perhaps; but never a child."
"You know what I mean. I'm certainly chaste and untutored compared to your other women."
Rem chuckled. "A very forthright distraction," he amended.
