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"What did it have to do with?"
"Me." Rem regarded the glowing tip of his cheroot. "Evidently, she shares your opinion that I'm running from myself."
"How much have you told her?"
"Nothing."
"Startling, wouldn't you say?" Boyd sat down beside his friend. "You've known how many women—each one more worldly and sophisticated than the last? Yet not one of them has seen beneath your accomplished veneer. And now this very young, very innocent girl bursts into your life and in a matter of days understands you better than you understand yourself." Boyd paused, praying the significance of his words would sink in. "She obviously cares a great deal about you."
"Obviously."
"Are you ready to admit you care in return?"
"I admitted that days ago," Rem returned in a strangled tone. "It's what I plan to do about those feelings that plagues me. Hell, Boyd," he shook his head in disbelief, "I lose my mind when I'm with her. I act like an uncontrolled youth, forgetting everything: who she is, who I am, what I'm supposed to be doing. I can't let this happen."
"Why? Because she's a possible link to our mission? Or because she's a threat to your carefully guarded heart?"
"Both."
"At least now you're being honest. Not only with me, but with yourself."
"My personal feelings aren't the issue. Unless Templar and Harris turn up something, we have no source of information but Samantha.... I can't stop seeing her." Rem met Boyd's knowing gaze, and his jaw set. "All right. My personal feelings are the issue. I don't want to stop seeing her."
"Then don't. She's a beautiful, warm, loving young woman. Perhaps she can give you back a bit of what you've lost."
"And what will I take from her in return?"
"What will you deprive her of if you walk away?"
"Pain. Hurt. Social ruin."
"Do you think she'd escape unscathed if you ended it now?" Boyd put in quietly. "I'm not prying, Rem, but it sounds as if things have progressed beyond casual conversation and a perfunctory kiss on the hand."
Rein's silence answered his question.
"Think about it, Rem. I understand you're trying to be honorable. But Samantha's chastity is not all that's at stake here."
A corner of Rem's mouth lifted. "According to Samantha, my concern is not for her virtue, but for my own self-protection."
"She's a very astute young lady."
"Dammit, Boyd!" Rem's smile vanished. "Why have you undergone such a complete change of heart? Am I now the only one who recognizes what Samantha stands to lose?"
"No. But circumstances have changed ... feelings have changed. Remember, there are all kinds of losses. Perhaps Samantha perceives physical innocence as less painful to relinquish than emotional austerity."
"Perhaps Samantha is too naive to know what losing her innocence would mean to her ... and her family. She's so damned trusting, living vicariously through one of her novels, seeing only the best in everyone." Abruptly, Rem remembered something Boyd should know. "Which reminds me, Samantha has a new lady's maid."
"Oh?" Boyd's expression was quizzical.
"It's Cynthia."
"Cynthia?" Boyd started. "Annie's Cynthia?"
"One and the same."
"What is she doing with Samantha?"
"I told you—she's her lady's maid. Apparently, they met several days ago. Cynthia told Samantha she hated working at Annie's. Samantha offered her an alternative."
