Samantha (Barrett 2)

"I'll be here. Your food is better than mine, anyway."

Rem didn't smile. "We've both grown spoiled, my friend. Do you remember what we used to eat at sea?"

A shadow crossed Boyd's tired face. "I have the same memories you do, Rem. But those days are behind us now."

"Are they?"

"They must be."

"I still have nightmares ... vivid ones." Rem inclined his head, meeting Boyd's eyes with a penetrating stare. "Do you?"

"Sometimes."

"Don't you find yourself questioning the fates?"

"No." Boyd brushed a lock of shaggy hair from his face. "Nor should you. Because it's futile to do so. All the answers we ever hope to attain, we already possess." He held up one finger. "I joined the navy to escape my mother's interfering domination and managing a dull textile business. You had a relentless dream to leave your mark on this world and a spirit that refused to be tamed."

Counting off his second finger, Boyd continued. "I left the navy because I no longer wanted to run. I felt I had something meaningful to do—you provided me with that opportunity. You left because the innocent bloo

dshed sickened you and your dream was transformed into an obsession for justice. As for everything else—the death, the futility—there are no answers to those things, Rem. Stop looking for them. All you're succeeding in doing is torturing yourself. You're accomplishing all you intended—righting the inequities within your control. The rest is up to fate. When are you going to accept that?"

"Perhaps never."

"Never is a long time, my friend." Boyd lay his hand on Rem's shoulder. "Isn't it time you made peace with yourself?"

"I don't know if that's possible. Not in a world as ugly and unjust as ours."

"There's beauty, too. Seek it out."

"I'd rather not. Beauty elicits emotion, and I have no desire to grapple with feelings of any kind, other than conviction and passion. I find solace in my conviction and distraction in the arms of willing women."

"You're still searching," Boyd assessed quietly.

"You're wrong. The dream you alluded to died long ago, along with the boy who envisioned it. Now there is only reality."

Boyd held Rem's gaze. "That's no longer enough. Not for me ... and I don't think for you. Your thirtieth birthday came and went last year, and mine two years before that. Surely life must hold more for us than rushing from one mission to the next?"

Rem's brows rose. "I had no idea you were unhappy."

"Not unhappy, Rem. Just lonely. Even jaded seamen can want something tangible to turn to in their old age, can't they? Something that is truly theirs?"

Abruptly, Rem turned away. "I don't know, Boyd. I honestly don't know."

"No ... you don't," Boyd said sadly, scooping up his coat. "I pray that changes, for your sake. Good night, Rem."

5

"Almack's," Sammy breathed. "At last."

She scarcely heard her own name or Aunt Gertrude's being announced, so intent was she on drinking in the graceful arches that defined Almack's famous ballroom, the rainbow of colors filling the assembly walls as the beau monde's most noted ladies twirled by in gowns of the latest fashion and hue.

Almack's. How many nights had she watched Alexandria ready herself for balls such as these, always wishing, dreaming, that she could accompany her beautiful sister-in-law? How many arguments had she and Drake had over this issue, ending always with his firm refusal to bring her out one single day before her eighteenth birthday?

At long last, she was here.

"Aunt Gertie, I'm so happy," Sammy breathed fervently.

"Oh dear." Gertrude pressed her fingers to her throat in distress. "I am becoming absentminded. I forgot to warn you, didn't I?" She leaned closer to Sammy's ear. "The food they serve here is atrocious," she confided, speaking in what she presumed to be a whisper. Two of Almack's patronesses turned around to scowl. "If you were hungry, you should have eaten before we came."