"Thank you. I only hope that Remington agrees."
Remington agreed.
He, who, over the years, had beheld countless ravishing women in every possible state of dress and undress, required a full minute to recover himself when Samantha first made her appearance.
"Will I do, my lord?"
She was going to be the death of him yet. "You'll more than do, my lady." Rem swallowed, audibly. "I don't believe a single gentleman in Covent Garden Theater will be able to concentrate on tonight's opera."
"Will you?" She tipped her head back, gazing up at him with innocent provocation.
Again, that damned guileless candor. Rem clenched his fists against his sides. He wasn't going to yield to it again. He couldn't.
His loins throbbed their disagreement.
"I'll do my best," he replied carefully.
"In that case, I hope the coach ride is endless."
Rem's lips twitched as he guided her from the Town house. "It won't be. We're only a short distance from the theater. And tonight I did bring my phaeton."
Sammy stopped short, crestfallen. "Oh."
"I thought you were going to control that dangerous honesty of yours," Rem reminded her gently when they were on their way.
"I tried. I cannot. It seems to be an unshakable part of me. "
"I see. Was it conspicuous with Viscount Anders this afternoon?" Rem realized he sounded exactl
y the way he felt: possessive.
"I don't know," Sammy replied in uncertain bewilderment.
"What does that mean?"
"It means, I don't recall much of Stephen's visit." She bit her tongue to keep from blurting out that all she'd been able to think about was Rem. "I was preoccupied."
"With what we discussed yesterday?"
"Pardon me?"
"Barrett Shipping."
"Oh ... that. I suppose so." It was better for Remington to believe she was pondering the family business than the truth: that she was trying to think of ways to make him fall in love with her. "I'm c-concerned about our ships." Oh, why did she have to be such a wretched liar?
Rem was thinking much the same thing. He knew what he had to do, and felt guilty as hell for doing it. With substantial effort, he pushed his conscience aside. "You mentioned a man named Goddfrey. Is he a friend of your family's?"
"A business associate." She prayed Rem would attribute the trembling in her voice to the swaying of the carriage. "Why?"
"Just curious." Rem's tone was nonchalant, his gaze fixed on the road.
"Are you acquainted with Viscount Goddfrey?" Sammy knew her own attempt at nonchalance was an abysmal failure.
"Somewhat. We've run into each other at White's from time to time."
"Was he gambling or abstaining?"
"Now, that's a curious question." Rem feigned surprised. "Why would you inquire about something like that?"