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“Frankly, you were so quiet and controlled about everything, it was hard for us to tell what was going on,” Kade said.
He grimaced. “I’m sorry that I worried you all.”
Logan pointed a finger at him. “I’m going to lock you in a room with Angus and his bagpipes if you don’t stop apologizing. You need to focus on the problem—and the solution—in front of you.”
“Samantha,” Braden replied.
“Yes. She’s a sweet, bonny lass, and she needs your help.”
“She’s also a bloody warrior,” Braden wryly said. “She’ll run you through with that blade of hers, if you’re not careful.”
Logan flashed a grin. “Sounds like my kind of woman. And I think she’s your kind, too.”
Braden drew in a deep breath, as if preparing to leap into the unknown. For such a long time, he’d been living in the past, unable to imagine a future beyond his work.
But now, finally, he could begin to envision something more, a future with Samantha. Still . . .
“I’m afraid of failing her,” he admitted.
Kade shrugged. “So don’t.”
“As easy as that, is it?” he sarcastically asked.
“Do you love her?”
Surprisingly, he didn’t even have to think about it. “I do. Although I can’t say she loves me.”
“I think she does,” Logan replied. “She just doesn’t fully realize it yet.”
Braden eyed his brother. “So, what do you suggest as my next step?”
“Go and rescue the lass. And while you’re at it, let her rescue you, too. She’s more than a match for you, Braden. So, as Angus would say, quit sittin’ around on yer arse and get the bloody job done.”
CHAPTER21
Samantha blearily tried to focus on the ledger in front of her. By all rights she should be working at the foundation today, following up with Mrs. Girvin and investigating Haxton’s odd behavior. But given last night’s debacle with Lord Beath and her subsequent sleepless night, she doubted that she’d be able to carry out her work with any semblance of success.
Besides, she was genuinely afraid to leave the house for fear that Beath would show up in her absence. Samantha wouldn’t put it past the old goat to bring a constable along to help him enforce his rights to cart Felicity away to the country.
Sighing, she rested her aching head in her hands. She’d spent most of the night trying to think her way out of her problems, and the only answer she could arrive at went by the name of Braden Kendrick. But unless the man was a miracle worker, how could he change the equation?
She reached for the coffeepot perched on her desk then put it back down because it was empty. What she really wanted was a hefty dram of whisky, even though it was only ten in the morning.
Fortunately, before she could do something stupid, Mrs. Johnson came into the study. She picked up the coffeepot, clearly intending to pour Samantha a cup, but then put it down with a sigh.
“Ye drank the whole pot? Ye’ll give yerself a headache, my lady.”
“Actually, I was hoping the coffee would get rid of my headache. But no luck so far.”
The housekeeper inspected her with a critical eye. “Ye didn’t get a wink of sleep, and now yer trying to figure out those blasted figures. Why don’t ye send that ledger over to Mr. Logan Kendrick? He’ll figure things out.”
Samantha had already reached that conclusion herself. “You’re right as always, Mrs. Johnson. Have one of the maids run a package over to Heriot Row this morning.”
Mrs. Johnson took the ledger from her. “At least ye had the presence of mind to remove it from yer office. Girvin or Mr. Haxton likely would have snatched it up if ye hadn’t.”
By the time the party ended, Samantha had been utterly frazzled. But before leaving with John and Bathsheba, she’d run up to fetch the ledger. Thankfully, it had still been in its usual place in the locked cabinet.
“I did ask the Kendrick’s butler to keep a weather eye out in case anyone went upstairs,” Samantha replied. “Macklin told me at the end of the evening that no one had made the attempt.”
