Samantha (Barrett 2)

The stakes were doubled.

The next hand resulted in Rem and Hartley together amassing an even greater score.

The stakes doubled again.

The tension swelled.

The evening wore on.

Rem and Hartley continued to win, and Gladdington and Anders continued to raise the stakes.

It was nearly dawn when Gladdington tossed down his cards. "I've definitely had enough." Ruefully, he glanced at his scorecard. "I shudder to think how much we've lost."

"Over ten thousand pounds, I should think," Anders replied. Calmly, he reached into his pocket, withdrawing the requisite number of bills, leaving, as Rem could see from the corner of his eye, nearly twice that number intact.

"Ah well," Anders rose, stretching, "it appears my fortune lies elsewhere today. Therefore," his gaze flickered briefly to Rem, "I'd best get some rest. I have an important social engagement this afternoon."

"Really?" Gladdington leaned back in his chair. "With young Samantha Barrett?"

Beneath the table, Rem's fingers gripped his knees.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Anders said with a meaningful smile.

"I suspected as much. At first I wondered if Gresham might be pursuing her, but I dismissed that as nonsense." He shot Rem a knowing look. "A child fresh from the schoolroom certainly isn't your style, is it?"

Rem arched a brow, seizing the opportunity he'd awaited. "Quite the contrary. What I'm attempting to do is look out for Samantha's well-being. Her brother is exceedingly concerned, and with good reason. An innocent beauty like Samantha needs to be shielded from the lechers of the ton."

"I quite agree," Hartley interceded fervently. "Why, Grayson's daughter is little more than a babe. I can remember the day she was born!"

"So Drake Barrett has elicited your services, has he, Gresham?" Gladdington looked thoughtful. "Well, that certainly explains your attentiveness to his sister." Casting a sidelong glance at Anders, Gladdington turned his questions to the viscount. "And what are your intentions toward Samantha? I hear tell you visited the Barrett Town house three times already this week. Is there anything you'd care to share with us?"

Hartley's head snapped around. "Anders, I didn't know you were pursuing Samantha Barrett."

"Relax, Hartley." Anders's tone was dry. "Your friend Grayson would approve. My intentions toward his daughter are completely honorable." He smoothed his waistcoat. "The way things look, Samantha will finish this Season as my wife."

Rem's chair scraped the floor loudly. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I, too, must get some rest."

"Ah, yes. Your new business venture, Gresham." Anders's gaze narrowed on Rem's face. "When will this exemplary brig of yours be ready?"

"My plans will come to fruition as soon as possible." Rem scooped up his winnings, his jaw clenched to restrain the fury threatening to erupt. "You may rely upon it."

"Anders is doing something illegal. I'd stake my life on it." Rem shoved the end of his cravat through its loop, yanking the ends into a knot with all the venom he wanted to use on Anders's throat.

Boyd polished off his brandy, watching in amusement as Rem fumbled with his cuffs. "Are you certain you're not letting personal feelings cloud your thinking?"

"You know me better than that." Rem shrugged into his coat. "I've never permitted sentiment to interfere with business."

"You've also never been in love."

"Samantha has nothing to do with this."

Boyd gave a pointed cough.

"All right. I despise the man. If he goes near Samantha again, I'll kill him. But that has nothing to do with my suspicions."

"That's honest enough. And you certainly have reason to question the viscount's actions. With a company that's nearly bankrupt, and no other visible means of income— despite his pompous boasts to the contrary—how did he manage to pay for an elaborate

necklace and satisfy losses of over ten thousand pounds at White's?"