Samantha (Barrett 2)
Page 17
"It seems I have a lot to discover about Lady Samantha Barrett."
"Then I suggest you begin at once."
Years of discipline silenced pangs of guilt. "I intend to, imp. I intend to."
4
A nearby clock chimed one.
Rem swung open the door to Annie's, pausing while his eyes adjusted to the sudden burst of gaslight and bustle of activity. As one of Shadwell's few clean, uninfested brothels, Annie's boasted a wealth of decent liquor, continuous music and dancing, and a host of attractive, accommodating women—all of which resulted in a thriving clientele.
Automatically, Rem peered beyond the sailors whirling their enthusiastic partners about the floor, and the rows of gin-swilling couples occupying the benches on either side of the long room. It never occurred to him to search among the raucous merriment for his men—they knew better than to partake in pleasure before business was concluded.
Sure enough, he caught a glimpse of Boyd seated at a far corner table mere seconds before Annie sauntered up to him. "Hello, Rem," she greeted him above the drunken din. "It's good to see you."
Turning his attention to the buxom, flaxen-haired woman be knew to be as sharp in business as any man, Rem grinned. "Annie, my love." Gallantly, he kissed her hand. "You're looking more beautiful than I remembered. It's been far too long."
Amused awareness twinkled in Annie's shrewd blue eyes. "If I didn't know you so well, I'd believe you, Gresham. But I do know you, ever since you first took to the sea. Flattery passes through your lips more naturally than gin. There's not a woman alive who stands a chance of resisting you. And you bloody well know it."
Rem chuckled. "I've been properly chastised."
"Besides, what you're looking for at the moment isn't a willing lady." Hands on ample hips, Annie inclined her head toward Boyd. "They're waiting for you."
"Thanks, love."
"Rem." She stayed him with her hand. "As far as later— do you want me to make arrangements? Katrina is free."
"Katrina is many things, Annie, but never free."
Annie gave a throaty laugh. "True. But she's beautiful, young, and firmly refusing to entertain any other customers since the last time you were here. Apparently, you made quite an impression; one that's costing me considerable income."
"Now who's stooping to false flattery?" Rein's tone was dry. "Lest you've forgotten, my sexual prowess is not the cause of Katrina's recent selectiveness. That you can attribute to the ample compensation I provided her—and you— in order to enable her to be more discerning. If I estimated correctly, my payment exceeded what Katrina normally earns in a month."
"That helped, of course. Without it I'd never be allowing her to remain so particular." Annie gave a frank shrug. "Be that as it may, she wants only you."
"Then I am flattered. But as you yourself said, my mind is currently cluttered with pressing busine
ss matters. I wouldn't be very good company."
"That's debatable. But assuming such is the case, what about when those business matters have been resolved?"
"Let's explore that possibility later, shall we? In the interim"—Rem flashed her one of his dazzling smiles—"I promise you won't go hungry. Between the bottles of gin the lot of us will consume and the temptation your lovely ladies provide to my men, the evening promises to be most lucrative."
"I'm certain it will be. Believe me, Gresham, much as I adore your devastatingly handsome face, I wouldn't allow you to hoard precious space in my establishment for your mystery meetings if I didn't expect the visits to be profitable. Business is business." Annie tossed him a saucy grin.
Rem threw back his head and laughed. "You're incomparable, Annie—a constant source of wonder."
"In more ways than one." She leaned into Rem, her deeply cut bodice tantalizingly exposed. "My long time offer still stands, you know. I never mingle with my customers, but with you ... I'd make an exception." With a wink, she sauntered off.
Chuckling, Rem weaved his way through the crowd.
"Rem." Boyd nodded a greeting, handing Rem a mug.
"Thanks." All traces of amusement gone, Rem slid into an empty chair, his eyes on the two men seated across the table. "Templar. Harris."
"Hello, Gresham." Templar, a slight, scattered, nervous-looking man was, in truth, the complete antithesis of what his appearance implied. Actually, the wiry fellow possessed nerves of steel and an aptitude for details rivaled by none. "What's this case about?"
Rem lit a cheroot, then took a liberal swallow of gin. "What has Boyd told you?"