"How are you going to do that?"
Rem gripped his knees. "That's where I need your help. I have an excellent description of the privateer. The problem is, I have no idea when he'll show his face. My guess is, he won't risk discovery by appearing during daylight hours. But eventually he'll have to meet with Summerson, to get his next sum of money. And I intend to be there when he does."
"But if you confront him and Summerson then, you'll still lose any chance of apprehending their unknown partner."
"Exactly. So I plan to have a private talk with our pirate friend ... after Summerson takes his leave. As a privateer, he's bound by neither document nor friendship, and his interests are entirely his own. So I needn't worry about him alerting the others. With the proper amount of persuasion, perhaps I can convince him to convene a meeting of all the parties involved."
"That makes sense. But how do you intend to survey the docks each night without being noticed?"
"Barrett Shipping overlooks a large section of the Thames, as well as the entire area surrounding Anders Shipping."
"So it does." A glint of understanding lit Drake's eyes.
"No one would question your watchman for making his nightly rounds, would they?"
"Certainly not." Drake rose, intrigued and decisive. "Consider yourself hired, Gresham. As of tomorrow night you work for Barrett Shipping."
20
"I still can't believe it! By the Season's end, I'm going to be the Countess of Gresham!" Sammy danced around the room, swinging Rascal in the air.
"Why can't you believe it? You've been plotting this for weeks now," Cynthia muttered, her brusque tone belied by the twinkle in her eyes.
"You can't fool me, Cynthia. You're thrilled for my happiness. So stop pretending." Sammy hugged Rascal tightly. "You shall become a Worth, as well," she informed him. "And we'll all live happily ever after."
"An original thought."
Sammy turned to give her friend a knowing look. "Perhaps not original, but also not unique. When are you going to admit to me that you care for Boyd Hayword?"
Cynthia flushed, hastily turning down Sammy's bed.
"You didn't answer me."
"There's nothing to say."
"I know you've been seeing him. And I know he cares for you. He all but told me so."
"Did he?"
"Yes." Sammy stroked Rascal's fur absently. "Boyd won't hurt you."
"Perhaps not intentionally." Cynthia stared down at the bare white sheets. "But what about when he learns who ... what I am."
"He already knows who and what you are. What you were was a victim. Tell him the truth; give him a chance to understand ... and to help you understand yourself. Then put the past where it belongs. Behind you." Sammy reached across the bed to take Cynthia's hand. "You're a wonderful friend; a fine, decent human being. You deserve to be happy."
"But what if I can't make Boyd happy?"
"That's nonsense. Why wouldn't you be able to—" Sammy broke off as a flash of insight occurred. "You mean in bed, don't you? You're worried that you'll disappoint him when you make love."
Cynthia turned away. "I can't discuss this, Samantha."
"You must discuss this." Sammy placed Rascal on the bed and turned to face her friend. "Cynthia, what that blackguard did to you, what happened at Annie's, that bears no resemblance to what it will be like with Boyd."
"How do you know?"
"Because when you and Boyd are finally together, it will be rooted in love, and you'll feel what I feel when I'm in Rem's arms: tenderness, excitement, wonder. It's a closeness beyond comprehension; as if we're one. Believe me."
"Boyd's been an absolute gentleman. I know he's waiting patiently, but I'm just not ready. It's too soon."