"I'm not telling you anything, Your Grace."
"If that bastard has touched my sister—"
"Agonizing will get you nowhere. Neither will threatening the earl or coming to blows."
"Then what the hell do you suggest I do, Smitty?"
"I suggest you accept that you're not able to deal with this situation rationally."
"I already accept that. But I'm Samantha's brother—I feel like her father, dammit. And there's no one who loves her as much as I do and who could better handle her—"
"Yes, there is," Smitty interrupted. "Your wife. Let the duchess talk to Lady Samantha. She will do an excellent job of listening"—Smitty let the word hang purposefully between them—"as well as guiding."
Drake blinked. "Alex ... yes. Sammy always does confide in her; maybe she'll do so this time as well. Of course, nothing of this magnitude has ever happened before, so I'm not sure how Alex will react. An innocent child like Sammy, barely of age, getting involved with a rogue like Gresham, who uses women for only one thing. Hell!" Drake slammed his hand against the wall. "I don't know if even Alex is equipped to combat this dilemma."
Smitty's eyes twinkled, his memory clearly recalling an identical dilemma in the not-so-distant past. "Oh, I think she can, Your Grace. Rest assured, I think the duchess will manage just fine."
Boydry's was dark.
Any passerby would assume the pub had closed for the night.
"Now what?" Boyd tossed off a glass of gin, watching Rem pace the silent room.
"Now we find out the identity of Anders's other partner. Fast." Rem paused, scowling at his drink. "We're not discussing ships alone anymore, Boyd. We're discussing men; men who are being sold like chattel. It sickens me."
"It appears that your instincts about Anders were right."
"No." Rem shook his head. "I never would have thought he'd go this far. Money, yes. Lives, no. The bastard has surprised even me." Rem's lips thinned into a grim line. "This sheds a whole new light on that conversation I overheard between Anders and Summerson at Devonshire House. Samantha could be in grave danger."
"Yes, she could."
"I've got to work fast."
"Towers's statement is all the evidence we need. Anders's association with Summerson, his reference to Atlantis, Summerson's connection to the privateer—that's more than enough to put them away for a long, long time."
"That would be fine, if putting them away was all we wanted. But it isn't. We want their partner." Rem clenched his fist, "We've got to find out who he is. Then we'll close in on the three of them."
"And in the meantime?"
"In the meantime it's up to me to protect Samantha."
"Lady Samantha, did you say?" Rem's butler sniffed. "My lady ... I'm sorry. The earl is just not at home."
"But he must be home—it's nearly dawn!" Sammy felt close to hysteria. She'd run all the way to Rem's Town house, unconcerned about her reputation, unconcerned about anything but getting to Rem before Drake did.
"I assure you, he is not."
"Where is he?"
"Pardon me?" The butler blanched.
Sammy inhaled sharply and tried again. "What is your nam
e, sir?"
"Peldon, my lady."
"Peldon, do you know who I am?"