Samantha (Barrett 2)

Rem watched them go. "As for you, Hartley—" he began.

"Don't move, Gresham." The cold barrel of Hartley's pistol jabbed Rem in the back. "And drop your gun."

Concealing his astonishment, Rem complied. Silently, he chastised himself for underestimating Hartley's precarious state of mind. "Do you plan to shoot me?" he inquired calmly.

"Only if I must." Hartley's voice and hand shook. "I'm an old man, Gresham. I'd never survive Newgate. I don't want to kill you, but I have little to lose at this point." He gave an hysterical laugh. "This is all a horrid dream. I keep waiting to awaken."

"Hartley ..." Rem started to turn.

"Don't!" The hysteria dissipated; the weapon prodded harder, making Rem wince. "You're going to accompany me in my escape, Gresham. Once I'm free, I'll release you. But if you try to stop me, I'll shoot you."

"No, Lord Hartley, you won't."

Both men's heads snapped around at the sound of the soft feminine voice.

"Samantha!" Rem's pupils dilated in shock. "Lord ... no! What the hell are you doing here? Get out!"

"I'm sorry, Rem. That is something I cannot do." Yanking off her gardener's cap, Sammy walked toward them, weaponless but for her wits.

"Samantha?" Hartley wiped a sleeve across his face. "This doesn't concern you, my dear. You'd best—"

"But it does concern me, my lord. You see, the man you're holding a gun on is the man I love. And I cannot allow you to hurt him. Which, knowing you as long and as well as I do, I cannot believe you would." She paused, inclining her head. "I remember when I was small, my father used to tell me that should I ever require help while he and my brothers were away, I could always summon you, that you were a fine decent man ... a man to be trusted. Do you feel any of those traits apply to you right now, my lord?"

Tears trickled down Hartley's cheeks. "You're a child, Samantha. You don't understand—"

"Yes. I do understand. I followed Stephen here, and I overheard everything. I understand you built ships for Anders Shipping, then, together with Stephen and Mr. Summerson, stocked those vessels with worthless cargo so you could collect the insurance money when the ships were seized. I understand that, in your case, thievery is the sole extent of your crime ... not that I expected otherwise. Most of all, I understand that you must have had an excellent reason for becoming involved in so gruesome a plot."

A sob escaped Hartley's lips. "Hartley Shipping was nearly bankrupt I forged the records so no one would suspect I didn't know where to turn..."

"'Tis often easier to be a child than an adult," Sammy murmured. "In childhood we are told to whom we can turn; as adults we are expected to resolve things on our own. In truth, my lord, that is a dreadful fallacy, for none of us ever stops needing the support of those we love. I'm sorry you had to bear your anguish alone. I'm sorry the terror was so acute that it forced you to take steps you would never otherwise have taken. I don't condone your actions. But I still believe that my father was right. You are, inherently, a fine, decent man. Please don't prove Father and me wrong."

Rem tensed, prepared to make a move, but Sammy shook her head.

"The marquis needs no coercion. He will face his actions willingly, and with the knowledge that it's the only way he'll ever be able to forgive himself. I, in turn, will talk to Drake. Between the two of us, I feel confident that we can offer enough evidence of Lord Hartley's fine character to convince the court to reduce his punishment significantly-enough to effect the necessary retribution while eliminating a term in Newgate. My father would want it that way." A soft smile touched Sammy's lips. "So you see, Lord Hartley, you do have somewhere to turn."

A spasm of emotion crossed Hartley's face. ""You were a precious child, Samantha ... a brilliant ray of sunshine and a blessing in your father's life." His voice broke. "You haven't changed. Grayson would be extraordinarily proud." Slowly, the marquis retracted his weapon, extending it, handle first, to Rem.

"Father would be proud of you as well, my lord," Sammy told Hartley as Rem relieved him of his pistol. "The decision you just made was a remarkably courageous one." She lay her hand on the elderly man's arm. "Thank you," she whispered, pained by the lost look on his face, "I'll go home at once and speak with Drake. You should know, however, that my reasons are somewhat self-serving. Remington and I are

being married in two months' time. Since my father can be present only in spirit, it would mean a great deal to me if you would attend in Father's stead, see me walk down the aisle on Drake's arm and join with the man I love. Would you do that for me, my lord?"

Hartley straightened his stooped shoulders. "I'd be honored," he replied with as much dignity as he could muster. He inhaled sharply, then headed toward the door. "I'm ready, Gresham."

Rem was still reeling from what he'd just witnessed. "Hmm? Oh, yes. Bow Street." He glanced dazedly at the gun in his hand, then slowly assessed Sammy in her gardener's apparel. "Is that the customary attire donned by Gothic heroines when unraveling a mystery?"

Sammy's grin was impish. "No, my lord. In that way, I am unique."

"In many ways," Rem muttered, shaking his head. "Tell me, when did you take it upon yourself to come to London?"

"The moment I received your last missive. I realized at once that you needed me."

"I don't recall saying—"

"You didn't have to. My heart simply knew. Just as it knew Lord Hartley wouldn't disappoint me." Sammy caressed Rein's jaw, "I didn't get here a moment too soon."

Rem turned his lips into her palm. "That faith of yours ... it's going to be the death of me, imp." His gaze fell to her mouth and his dimple flashed. "I don't know whether to kiss you or throttle you. In fact, I'm not even certain exactly what just happened here."

Sammy gave him a dazzling smile. "I'd much prefer the kiss. As for what happened, that's easy enough to recount. I rescued you, my lord. Just as I promised I would."