Samantha (Barrett 2)

You are no longer a reckless child, Samantha,

she silently berated herself. For heaven's sake, act like a lady, not a hoyden. Counting slowly to ten, she released her breath, smoothed down her gown and gave Millie a beatific smile. "What would you say is a respectable period of time to wait before greeting a gentleman caller?"

Millie blinked. "Why, I don't know, m'lady. A quarter hour perhaps?"

"I'd never last. Five minutes." Sammy turned decisively, her gaze fixed on the clock. Four minutes and a flurry of pacing later, she headed back toward the door, this time maintaining the proper pace and gentility. "Wish me luck, Millie."

"I do, m'lady."

As Sammy descended the stairway, she could make out Remington's rich baritone as he introduced himself to Hatterly, the Barrett's Town house butler.

"It's an honor, my lord," Hatterly responded with his customary starched dignity. "Lady Gertrude will be very grateful for your kindness. I'm certain she wishes to thank you herself, but unfortunately, she is currently indisposed."

"There is no need to disturb Lady Gertrude," came Rem's gallant reply. "I merely wanted to return the carriage and make certain that Lady Samantha and Smithers arrived safely despite last night's storm."

"We did, thanks to you, Lord Gresham." Sammy advanced toward the doorway, mentally cautioning herself not to bound at Rem like a welcoming, exuberant puppy. "Without your assistance, I shudder to think what the evening's outcome would have been. You acted quite the hero."

Rem's chin came up, an indulgent light warming his eyes as they met Sammy's. Fleetingly, almost involuntarily, his gaze flickered over her body, the action so swift that Sammy thought she might have imagined it. She prayed she hadn't.

Leaning forward, Rem captured her hand and brushed it with his lips. "Hello, imp," he murmured against her knuckles. "I'm pleased to see you looking so well." He raised his head, gifting her with a slow, dazzling smile. "Have you read your cumbersome stack of books yet?"

"No." Sammy could still feel the warmth of his breath on her hand. "We arrived quite late last night. I barely had time to bathe before falling asleep. But this morning I reread Mysteries of Udolpho, the Gothic I described last night."

"I see. Then perhaps you'd prefer I take my leave so you can—"

"No!" Her protest erupted with a will all its own. "That is ... you did come specifically to return our carriage."

"True." Another melting smile. "It is repaired, and as promised, brought here between two and four o'clock."

"You're prompt as well as kind, my lord. The very least I can do is invite you in."

"I believe the earl is already in, my lady." Smitty's disapproving voice descended from the second floor landing like a bucket of ice water.

Sammy winced. "Lord Gresham has returned our mended coach, Smitty. I'm certain Aunt Gertie would want to properly thank him. Since she is abed, I believe the responsibility to do so falls upon us."

"We appreciate your generosity, Lord Gresham," Smitty said stiffly, coming to stand beside Samantha. "You have our gratitude. I'm certain the Duke of Allonshire will contact you personally once I've advised him of your kind rescue; Lady Samantha means the world to him." A meaningful silence. "On behalf of His Grace, I must apologize for putting you to so much trouble. It won't happen again. Your greatcoat is restored and has already been placed in your carriage. And now, as I'm certain you have pressing matters that await you, we shan't take up any more of your time."

" 'Twas no trouble and no thanks are necessary, from His Grace or yourself," Rem assured Smitty with more than a twinge of amusement. "As for taking up my time—"

"We can at least offer you some refreshment before you go," Sammy broke in.

Rem's penetrating gaze returned to her face and he made a formal bow. "Refreshment sounds delightful, my lady." The teasing tone in his voice indicated that he was still vastly amused.

Amusement was not the emotion Sammy sought.

She blurted out the first thing she could think of to alter that. "I was just about to adjourn to the sitting room for a glass of brandy when you arrived. Please join me."

"Brandy?"

Smitty nearly choked on the word. "Yes, brandy." Samantha shot him a withering look. "Of course, the earl and I will understand if you haven't the time to join us, Smitty."

Without awaiting a reply, Sammy marched into the sitting room and seized the decanter of brandy from the sideboard. How much of the spirit did one pour into a glass, anyway? she wondered. It appeared innocuous enough. A gentleman would require a hefty portion in order to satisfy his thirst. As for a lady .. . Sammy reminded herself again that Remington was used to women of great sophistication.

She filled two goblets to the brim.

"Your brandy, Lord Gresham." Sammy extended a glass to Rem, whose expression had, at last, gone from amusement to incredulity. So, she'd finally made an impression! Well, she'd only just begun.

With a thoroughly adult smile, Sammy raised her glass. "In honor of your kind assistance, I toast you, my lord." Lifting the glass to her lips, Sammy swallowed liberally ... once, twice.