Andrea Kane Read Free Page A

alight, assisting her into his own elegantly appointed vehicle. “My coach awaits you, my lady.”
    “Thank you so much.” Samantha snuggled into the plush seat, wrapping Gresham’s greatcoat more tightly about herself and Rascal. She felt very adult and thoroughly buoyant, tucked away in a dashing hero’s carriage, ready to begin her great adventure in the exhilarating rainstorm.
    It took mere minutes for the earl and Smitty to transfer the majority of Sammy’s belongings from the Barrett’s carriage to the earl’s. That task completed, Smitty hoisted himself into the seat across from Sammy and turned to address Gresham through the open window.
    “I cannot thank you enough, my lord.”
    “No thanks are necessary,” Gresham assured the elderly valet, then gave Samantha a conspiratorial wink. “Number Fifteen Abingdon Street. Between two and four o’clock. I’ll be by with your mended coach.”
    “I’ll be waiting.”
    If Gresham saw Smitty’s disapproving scowl, he gave no notice. “Have a safe trip. It was a pleasure to see you again Smithers. And to meet the lovely young lady you’ve become, Samantha.”
    The chill in Sammy’s bones instantly melted. “I’m delighted to have met you as well … Remington.”
    His eyes twinkled. “Until tomorrow.” Backing away from the carriage, he signaled his driver to be off.
    Sammy watched until Remington disappeared from view. Then she sighed, leaning her head dreamily against the seat, running her fingers over the luxuriously appointed material.
    “Lady Samantha,” Smitty began, “I really don’t think—”
    “Oh, Smitty,” she murmured, interrupting whatever he had been about to say. “Isn’t he dashing?”
    “His Grace would never approve—”
    “Drake. Yes.” Her smile was jubilant. “I wonder what my brother will say when I tell him that I’m going to become the Countess of Gresham.”

2
    H ELLO, BOYD.”
    The stocky tavern keeper looked up and grinned, putting down the mug he’d been filling. “Rem … I thought I saw you come in. But then you disappeared.”
    “I was temporarily waylaid.”
    “Yes, well, I don’t blame you. I spied the little chit who waylaid you. Quite a beauty. Well-bred, too. What the hell was she doing in here?”
    “Her carriage broke down. She needed assistance.”
    Boyd’s dark eyes gleamed. “And I’ll just bet you gave it to her.” He shook his shaggy head, sighing with mock dismay. “Ah, why did I choose that particular time to check my supplies? I’d have been delighted to offer her my help … or anything else she wanted.”
    Unreasonable annoyance struck Rem, hard. “She’s half your age, Boyd—not yet out of her teens.” A pause. “She’s also Drake Barrett’s little sister.”
    A low whistle escaped Boyd’s lips. “No wonder she looked so bloody regal. Well, that changes things. If I were you, I’d stay the hell away from her. You’ve got enough women nipping at your heels without involving yourself with—”
    “I’m not getting involved with her,” Rem snapped. “I just loaned her my carriage and offered to have hers repaired. I’ll return it tomorrow. After that, I’ll probably never see her again. Besides,” he lowered his voice, “I didn’t come in to discuss Samantha Barrett.”
    Boyd’s eyes narrowed slightly—his only overt reaction to Rem’s uncustomary loss of composure. “Are you here to see me, or are you meeting Briggs?”
    “Meeting Briggs. I take it he’s not yet arrived?”
    “No. But that shouldn’t surprise you. This storm could delay him for hours. Here,” Boyd handed him a glass of beer, “have a drink while you wait. Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
    Rem relaxed into a roguish grin. “I’ve been busy.”
    “Busy, huh? Which one is it this time?”
    “Never one, Boyd.” Rem took a deep, appreciative swallow. “In my situation, that’s far too risky. Several. Always several.”
    “The Season’s under way. Will you be