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She sighed. “Yes, I know I’m not exactly a paragon, either.”
“We’ll have a brief chat and then rejoin the others,” he said. “Beath will hardly know you’re gone.”
“I’m being a nervous ninny, aren’t I?”
His gaze took on an expression that was growing increasingly familiar—the smoky look that muddled her insides.
“You’re utterly delightful, is what you are,” he said.
Well.
That compliment was certainly delightful, but since Beath was just down the hall, she had no intention of engaging in a flirtation with him.
Samantha smoothed down her skirts, trying to settle her nerves. “Thank you. But let’s get to the matter at hand, sir. What did you wish to tell me?”
* * *
Braden noted the slight tremble in Samantha’s fingers. Understandable that she would be twitchy since Beath was circling her like a vulture, waiting to strike. She was also, he knew, nervous about his marriage proposal. He’d not wanted to pressure her this week, but time was not on their side. They needed to reach a decision, and preferably tonight.
Her response to his proposal made it clear that she’d never expected to remarry. Braden suspected that she was afraid to love again, given the torment she’d suffered after Roger’s death. He knew how gutting such a loss could be and how it affected one’s vision of the future, especially when it came to matters of the heart.
At the same time, he was convinced that he and Samantha were perfectly suited. If he were the superstitious sort, he might even believe that fate had played a hand the night that she and Donny had rescued him. That event had catapulted him straight into an adventure, and into her life.
Onecouldlove again, he’d come to discover. Now, he needed to help Samantha realize that, too.
She tilted her head, looking slightly perplexed. “Sir, are you simply going to sit there and stare at me? Time does march on, and Beath will surely notice my absence.”
Braden mentally shook himself. “Sorry, lass. I was just collecting my thoughts. Although you are well worth staring at, I assure you. You look lovely tonight.”
Samantha scoffed. “I look like a vicar’s wife, and you know it.”
“If all vicars’ wives looked like you, there would be legions of men storming into the profession.”
“Braden, Irefuseto flirt with you with Beath sitting in the next room. Now, you either tell me what it is you wish to discuss or take me to get something to eat.”
He pressed a hand to his chest. “Apologies, my lady. I promise to behave, word of a Kendrick.”
“I will hold you to that. Now, I presume you have some news about the various problems we’re attempting to juggle?”
She was all business, his lass. That was something he hoped to change before the evening was out.
“As you know, Logan has some of his best men in Old Town, trying to scare up leads on the missing children.”
“Any luck so far?” she hopefully asked.
“Lots of rumors, but nothing we haven’t already heard.”
She grimaced. “Drat. Emmy dropped me a note a few days ago. She’s heard nothing new, either. What about the Hanging Judge? Have Logan’s men made any inroads on that front?”
“Believe it or not, one of them managed to get into the place, although during the day.”
Her eyebrows arched up. “Goodness, how did he manage it?”
“Very carefully. Even in the daylight hours, the place is full of some fairly rough sorts. But Logan’s man, Stevens, worked on the docks when he was a lad, so it was easy for him to fit in as an itinerant dockworker. He put it about that he was looking for a little extra work, shall we say.”
“Criminal work.”
Braden nodded. “He dropped a few hints that he’d be interested in a spot of thieving or swindling if anyone had need of an extra hand. Of course his offer was met with some degree of suspicion, but he’s convinced that his cover was sound. Because they don’t know him, the denizens of such an establishment would naturally be suspicious.”
