Samantha (Barrett 2)

"Like a tempest. A delightful tempest, mind you, but a tempest just the same."

Sammy flashed Cynthia an impish grin. "Yes."

"I was afraid of that."

"We have two days to get you accustomed to your new position. Monday night you'll make your first official appearance as my chaperon."

"Monday night?"

"Yes ... we're going to Vauxhall."

"Who is 'we'?"

"You, Remington, and I."

Cynthia halted on the second floor landing. "You're not serious."

"Of course I am. You're my companion, remember? Certainly you didn't think my escort and I would be permitted to go out alone, unchaperoned? Why, Millie accompanied me everywhere."

"That's not the point, Samantha. Lord Gresham knows who—what I am. He met me at Annie's."

"Good. Then when he realizes you've abandoned Annie's in favor of my more desirable company, perhaps he'll do the same. Besides"—Sammy placed a conspiratorial finger across her lips—"you'll be overseeing us only as long as it takes to quiet the tongues of Vauxhall's gossips."

"You're not thinking of going off alone with him, are you?" Seeing the triumphant expression on Sammy's face, Cynthia shook her head emphatically. "You're making a big mistake, Samantha. I mean it. You're playing a dangerous game . . . with rules you don't even know."

"Remington wouldn't hurt me."

"He would and he will."

"Then you'll just have to come along."

"So I can protect you?"

"No, so I can prove you wrong."

Vauxhall's thousands of colored lamps illuminated the grove and its surrounding pavilions, bathing the gardens in an ethereal glow.

Sammy had never seen anything more romantic in her life.

"Oh ..." she breathed, alighting from the carriage. "It's breathtaking. And listen! The concert is under way—do you hear the musicians?"

"Yes, imp, I hear them." Tenderly, Rem tucked Sammy's arm through his. In truth, he was having trouble concentrating on anything but Samantha. She'd pervaded his thoughts since Friday, eclipsing everything—even his mission— from view. It was frightening. To lose his focus would be insane. Yet, deny it though he would, Rem could feel himself weakening, unable to recall that his sole purpose for pursuing Samantha was to discover how much she knew about the disappearing ships.

If the pull between them continued to intensify, his mission and Samantha's innocence would both be in jeopardy. Rem was acutely aware of the disastrous possibilities, just as he was aware that he was all wrong for Samantha, that what she needed wasn't inside him to give. But, God help him, he couldn't stay away. And now, immersed in her beauty, watching the rapturous expression on her face, he wondered if he even wanted to try.

Rem cleared his throat, but not his head. "Millie is still in the back seat of the carriage. I'll help her alight. Then we can get some punch and go for a stroll."

His words snapped Sammy out of her reverie. "Millie's gone," she blurted out.

"What?"

"She's gone. I sent her back to Hampshire. She hated it here."

Rem's brows drew together in puzzlement. "Well then, what specter darted into the rear of my carriage just before we departed?"

"My new lady's maid."

"Oh. Fine. Then I'll help your new lady's maid alight." With a mock bow, Rem turned back and extended his hand.