"Fair enough. Our ships are painstakingly designed, then constructed under strict supervision and to precise specifications in our own yard. We use the finest wood and canvas money can buy, not to mention the highest quality iron for our guns. Our engineers, machinists, and carpenters are unsurpassed in their abilities and are instructed to spare no expense in building consistently superior vessels. No corners are cut, ever, not in design, construction, or inspection. Once the ships are completed, I have my men scrutinize every deck for ill-fitted planking, check every sail for slack rigging and poor stitching ... right down to the smallest topgallant. I personally test each and every ship for seaworthiness. Is that procedure satisfactory enough to suit your needs?"
Rem raised his glass in tribute. "I'm impressed. Truly, I am. What you've just said will certainly influence my decision. I have a strong feeling I'll be doing business with you."
"That depends upon whether or not I choose to do business with you."
"Touché." Rem's eyes twinkled. "Then I return the favor. Go ahead and interrogate me—I'll answer any questions you have."
"All right." Drake lounged against his desk in a deceptively relaxed stance. "I hear you're short of funds. How do you plan to pay for this ship?"
Rem grinned broadly. "I'm happy to see you're thorough, Allonshire. It reassures me that my investment is in good hands. To answer your question, my business reverses were temporary. I've recouped all my losses. I can summon my banker here to verify my words, if you require proof."
"No. Your word is satisfactory." Drake's eyes narrowed. "What are you really up to, Gresham?"
"Meaning?"
"Meaning this sudden urge to purchase a merchant ship. Meaning this business risk you're plunging into so impulsively. It's not at all like you. Your style has always been to scrupulously invest money while otherwise attending parties and bedding women. Why the change?"
Coolly, Rem shrugged. "Perhaps I'm bored. Or perhaps my instincts tell me this is a perfect way to scrupulously invest my money, as you put it. I know ships, Allonshire. Better than anyone else you do business with, I trust. Maybe it's time to put that knowledge to use." Rem arched a brow. "And you must admit, you and I would make an extraordinary team."
"We would indeed." Drake nodded. "I don't admire many men, but I find myself developing a grudging respect for you. Perhaps we can work well together at that." Broodingly, Drake stared into his glass. "Parrying aside, I think we should discuss the ongoing problem of the missing ships. The threat is very real, worsening, it seems, every day. I must admit I'm worried. Since I'm certain that, at least in the case of Barrett Shipping, carelessness is not a possibility, it makes me strongly suspect that terrorism is the true culprit here. That's not a pretty thought, not only for the shipping industry, but for all of England."
"I agree."
"As I mentioned earlier, I've hired a team of men to look into the situation. If you and I decide that my company will be constructing your vessel, I'll make certain to keep you apprised of what I learn.1'
Although he'd never actually suspected Drake was involved in the sinkings, Rem found himself impressed by the depth of the man's integrity. "I'd appreciate that. And now I'd like to officially commission Barrett Shipping to design and build my brig."
For a moment Drake's eyes delved into Rem, seemingly in search of something not readily perceived. Then he rose, extending his hand. "We have a deal, Gresham."
Rem clasped Drake's hand. "We'll meet next week to discuss my specifications—after your child is born."
"Yes." Drake smiled faintly. "It's an incredible feeling, having a child of your own. I still remember the first time I held Gray. It was as if a part of me had merged with a part of Alex and formed this extraordinary little being who looked up at me as if heaven itself should bow to my command. The surge of love, of protectiveness, was staggering. It still is. I'd give my life for my son ... and for all his sisters and brothers yet to come." Once again Drake glanced upward. "If only Alex didn't have to suffer so ... it twists a knife in my gut. God, how I wish I could take her pain."
Rem felt that odd constriction in his chest. "You love Alexandria very much."
"More than I ever believed possible." Drake gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I wasn't much of a believer in love until Alex exploded into my life. In fact, I wasn't much of a believer in anything; didn't give a damn for anyone. Except the sea. And Sammy." Drake's brow furrowed as a sudden thought struck him. "Speaking of which, I want to thank you, a bit belatedly, for the excellent care you took of my sister."
Rem nearly leapt from his chair. "Pardon me?"
"Samantha." Drake shot Rem a quizzical look. "Smitty told me you rescued the two of them from the storm their first night in London."
"Oh ... yes. 'Twas nothing. In fact, I'd nearly forgotten."
"I'm sure you barely recognized Sammy; when you last saw her, she was a child."
Warning bells sounded in Rem's head. "True. She's become an enchanting young lady."
"Young is right. Too young to be let loose among the lechers of the ton. I sent her off to London under Smitty's watchful eye so that she could indulge in her first Season. I feel guilty as hell for not accompanying her, but I couldn't bear to leave Alex ... not with the baby's birth so imminent. Still, I'm bloody worried about Samantha. She's too damned open and trusting, and sheltered—my fault, I suppose. But being seventeen years her senior, I've always protected her from the world's ills ... in many ways a father more than a brother."
"I can understand that."
Something of Rem's tension must have conveyed itself to Drake. He inclined his head sharply, eyes narrowed on Rem's face. "Have you had occasion to see Sammy since that night at the tavern?"
Careful,
Rem cautioned himself, "Your aunt Gertrude has been escorting Samantha to all the Season's grand balls and soirees. They were in attendance at Almack's, Carlton House, and at least several other parties that come readily to mind." "I see. So you noticed her at these gatherings?"
"I did."
"Did you dance with her?"
Rem nodded. "She's delightful."
"Yes ... delightful and innocent. Thoroughly innocent. Perfect prey for an immoral blackguard ... wouldn't you agree?"
"Definitely."
"I'd kill any man who touched her. Surely you can't blame me for that?"
"I don't blame any man for doing what he must," Rem replied, calmly meeting Drake's gaze.
"I'm glad to hear that, Gresham. Very glad."
"Your Grace?" Humphreys's knock was loud and purposeful.
Drake reached the door in two strides and yanked it open.
"Is it Alex?"
"Yes." Soberly, Humphreys nodded. "The duchess asked me to give you a message. She would like to remind you that all women, no matter how young, dislike being kept waiting by the most important man in their life-—especially once they've made an entrance."
Already halfway down the hall, Drake came to a screeching halt. "What?"
A broad grin erupted on Humphreys's face. "You have a daughter, Your Grace. Congratulations."
"A daughter." Drake's throat worked convulsively. "Alex ... is she ... ?"
"The duchess herself spoke to me. She's tired, but splendid. And a bit impatient."
Running a shaking hand through his hair, Drake looked dazedly at Rem. "I've got to go to her. Gresham, I—"
Rem waved Drake off. "My best to all of you. Now go. Your family awaits. I can see myself out."
"I'll show Lord Gresham out," Humphreys dutifully offered.
"Yes ... fine . . ." Drake had reached the staircase and was taking the steps two at a time. "We'll pursue our plans for your brig soon, Gresham," he called, disappearing around the second floor landing.
Strangely pensive and out of sorts, Rem followed Humphreys to the front door, then strolled out into Allonshire's expansive gardens. He felt he'd just been privy to an intensely personal and emotional moment in the life of a man who wasn't given to sentimental displ
ays. And Rem couldn't deny that it had affected him ... in a way he'd sworn never to be affected. And what of Samantha?
Drake had vowed to kill any man who touched her, and Rem didn't doubt that he would, nor blame him if he did. Everything the duke had just said about his beautiful, trusting sister was true, and Rem knew he should be plagued with guilt for what he intended. Why wasn't he?
Lord knew, he was many things, but never unprincipled. Even in serving his country, he was vehement in attempting to see that the innocent remained unharmed. Yet in this case he was knowingly taking a virgin to bed, forever altering her life, but still unable to walk away before her ruin was realized. Worse, unable to see their impending union as anything but inevitable. Why? You know what's happening to you, Rem. Boyd's pronouncement reverberated loudly in Rem's head. But if you need me to say the words, I'll say them for you. You're falling in love with Samantha Barrett. A new kind of terror gripped Rem. Boyd was right.
"Hullo."
The small voice seemed to come directly from Allonshire's flower bed. Rem blinked and looked down.
A handsome tot, whose brilliantly green eyes and black hair identified him instantly as Drake's son, grinned up at Rem.
"Well, hello." Rem squatted beside him, wincing as the child yanked a fistful of marigolds from the ground. "You must be Gray."
The boy nodded sagely, pulling up two more handfuls of flowers.
Clearing his throat, Rem looked about for the boy's governess. He had little experience with children and no idea how to handle the boy's destructive sport. Unfortunately, the gardens were deserted, save the two of them.
"May I ask why you're ripping up this lovely flower garden?" Rem inquired at last.
Gray looked at his grimy fist and nodded effusively. "Pretty flowers. Bright colors."
"I agree." Once again, Rem scanned the area. "Where is your governess?"
Triumphantly, Gray pointed to the mansion. "Reading."
"Reading? Why isn't she with you?"
"She thinks I nap."
Rem's lips twitched. "You're telling me that your governess thinks you're napping? Then perhaps you should be."
"No." Gray shook his head vehemently. "No nap. Flowers." Another handful of stems were torn from their grassy bed.
"Why, Gray?" Rem lifted the boy's chin, stared into his intense eyes. "Why flowers?"
"Mama's in bed. She's giving me a brother." He grimaced. "Or a sister." Holding up the mangled bunch of marigolds, he proudly announced, "I give her flowers."
Perhaps it was the afternoon sunshine that made Rem's eyes sting. "I see. Well, I'll tell you something, Gray. Your mama is very lucky to have such a thoughtful son. I'm sure she'll think those are the most beautiful flowers she's ever seen." Smiling at the rapturous expression on the little boy's face, Rem leaned conspiratorially forward. "And do you know what? I think now would be the perfect time to give them to her. In fact, I can't think of a more perfect time."
"I go." Half the flowers fell as Gray struggled to his feet, but Rem suspected Alexandria wouldn't mind their absence. Nor would she mind the glaringly conspicuous bald patch amid Allonshire's otherwise perfect garden. The gift she was receiving was far more precious.
"'Bye." Gray smiled again, and Rem could well understand how that impish grin would melt Drake's heart.
"'Twas a pleasure." Rem solemnly extended his hand. "Incidentally, my name is Rem."
Soberly, Gray shook the proffered hand." 'Bye, Rem." He turned to go.
"Oh, Gray?"
Gray inclined his head quizzically.
"How do you feel about your aunt Samantha?" Rem asked.
Gray's eyes lit up. "Aunt Sammy!"
"She's very special, wouldn't you say?"
An emphatic nod.
"And she adores your papa, doesn't she? Follows him around, looks up to him ... that sort of thing?"
"Aunt Sammy says Papa is a ... a ..." Gray screwed up his face intently, thinking. "A hero!" he exclaimed suddenly.
Warmth seeped through Rem at the characteristically Samanthalike term. "Yes, Aunt Samantha definitely thinks your papa is a hero. Do you know why?"
Shaking his head, Gray waited.
"Because he's her big brother, that's why. And nothing's more special to a girl than her big brother."
Gray's eyes widened.
"Trust me, Gray," Rem advised confidentially. "If you get a brother, it'll be nice, but there's nothing as wonderful as having a little sister who thinks you're the most wonderful person in the whole world. If I were you, I'd wish real hard that your mama gives you just that—a sister who loves you as much as Aunt Samantha loves your papa."
Squeezing his eyes closed, Gray's fist tightened on his flowers. "I'm wishing."
"Good. Now hurry home and see if your wish came true." Quick as a wink, Gray sprinted off toward the manor.
Alexandria Barrett turned her head at the sound of her bedchamber door opening. A soft smile touched her lips as her eyes met her husband's. "Finally."
Gingerly sitting on the edge of the bed, Drake leaned over and reverently kissed Alex's face; her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. "After the unceremonious way you tossed me out, I wasn't sure I was welcome."
"Have you seen her?"
"No. I wanted to see you first." He cupped his wife's face between his palms. "Are you all right?"
"Would you have it any other way?" Alex lay her hand on his jaw.
"No."
"I'm fine. And so is our daughter."
"Thank you, princess." Drake gathered Alex tenderly in his arms. "Thank you for our daughter."
"Another princess," she murmured, a catch in her voice. "Will you withstand it?"
"Gladly."
"I love you, Drake."
"You're my life," he said simply.
"Pardon me, Your Grace." Molly, Alex's lady's maid, poked her head in the room. "Evidently the new babe is hungry. Would you like me to—"
"Bring her to me." Disengaging herself from Drake's embrace, Alex pushed herself to a sitting position.
"But Your Grace—"
"We've discussed this, Molly. Time and time again. The duke and I feel as strongly as we did two years ago when Gray was born. I will feed my daughter. Now would you please bring her in so she can meet her father?"
With a resigned sigh, Molly nodded.
"Princess, are you sure you're not too tired?" Drake traced the dark circles under Alex's eyes with a gentle finger. He still couldn't believe that his tiny, fragile-looking wife was capable of enduring the rigors of childbirth.
"I'm sure." Eagerly, Alex reached out as Molly returned with a small, wailing bundle. Lovingly, Alex took her newborn daughter into her arms, then proudly displayed her to Drake. "Look at her. Isn't she beautiful?"
A muscle worked in Drake's jaw as he gazed into his daughter's fathomless gray eyes—Alex's eyes. Slowly, he lifted her from Alex's arms into his own, cradling her tiny, fuzzy head in his hand. An explosion of pride, protectiveness, and love erupted inside him, so powerful it nearly brought him to his knees. "Hello, little one," he said in a rough whisper.
Instantly, the baby stopped crying. "Oh Lord." Alex rolled her eyes. "Another woman has fallen prey to your fatal charm."
"Evidently not." Drake chuckled as the crying resumed. "Or at least not in lieu of nourishment." He waited for Alex to lower her nightrail before reluctantly shifting the baby back into her mother's hands.
Crooning softly, Alex cradled their daughter to her breast, smiling as the infant greedily latched onto her nipple and, with great enthusiasm, began to suckle. "You're a fast learner, my love," Alex murmured, kissing one flailing fist. Alex was readjusting her nightrail, the baby sound asleep in the crook of her elbow, when Gray exploded into the bedchamber. "Mama, do I have a sister?"
"Forgive me, Your Grace." Miss Hutch, the Allonshire governess, appeared, flushed and panting, beside her charge. "I put the young marquis down for a nap. I had no idea—"
"It's all right, Miss Hutch." Alex's
lips twitched. "Gray may come in. You and Molly are both free to go."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Do I, Mama?" Gray rushed to Alex's bedside, his eyes glued to the tiny form beside his mother, his hands tightly clasped behind his back.
Alex laughed. "Now that's quite a change. I thought only a brother would do."
"No, Mama. I want to be a hero. Like Papa. So I need a sister."
Alex and Drake exchanged baffled looks. "Then rest easy," Alex assured Gray. "You are indeed a hero. Meet your sister."
Gray's eyes opened wide with wonder as he stared down at the peaceful, angelic face. "She's little."
Drake chuckled. "She'll grow, son."
"She's pretty. What's her name?"
Tenderly, Alex rumpled Gray's hair. "Papa and I are still discussing—"
"Bonnie."
Alex blinked. "What?"
"Her name. It's Bonnie. 'Cause she's pretty. I choose, 'cause I'm her hero."
A maternal gleam flashed in Alex's eyes. "Bonnie. It is a lovely name. Drake?" She inclined her head.
"I'm her hero. I choose," Gray insisted.
A rumble of laughter erupted from Drake's chest. "Very well. Since you insist you're the hero—"
"Not the hero, Papa. Bonnie's hero. Same as you're Aunt Sammy's."
"Ah." Drake's brow furrowed as he tried to deduce what had prompted Gray's surprising analogy.
"Here, Mama. For you." Remembering his gift, Gray yanked his hand from behind his back and thrust the bunch of wilting marigolds at Alex." 'Cause you made me a hero."
Alex stared from the droopy flowers to Gray's earnest face, tears filling her eyes. Drawing her son forward, she kissed his cheek and took her bouquet. "Thank you, Gray. They're the most beautiful flowers I've ever received. You really are a hero."
"Just like Rem said."
"Rem?"
"The man. He told me Papa was Aunt Sammy's hero. He told me to wish for a sister so I could be a hero, too."
"I see." Drake grew thoughtful. "When did you see this gentleman?"
"In the garden. Just now."
"Rem ... Remington Worth?" Alex questioned Drake. "Is that who your business meeting was with?"
Drake nodded. "He commissioned Barrett Shipping to build his brig."