cared to admit, even to himself. “I’ll do my best to see that Samantha—and her feelings—remain intact.”
Boyd cleared his throat. “So, you escorted Samantha to Hatchard’s. …I take it she enjoys reading?”
“I don’t think the term ‘enjoy’ is powerful enough to describe the relationship Samantha has with her books.” Rem grinned, remembering the look on the harried footman’s face when he’d seen the towering pile of reading matter Sammy had purchased in one hour’s time. “The stack we carried to the carriage was taller than Samantha herself. She assures me, however, that she will have read the whole lot of them in a fortnight.”
“Then you’ll have to take her back for new ones, won’t you?” Boyd asked carefully, studying his friend’s face.
“Yes. I suppose I will.”
A flicker of awareness registered in Boyd’s eyes, then vanished. “I’d best get some rest. The next few days promise to be taxing ones.” He rose. “How do you want to handle the situation with the Bow Street Magistrate? Do you want me to contact Briggs?”
Rem nodded in obvious relief. “I had planned to pen him a note—in code, of course—and have one of my servants deliver it, but since you’re here rather than at Annie’s …” Leaning over his desk, Rem extracted a plain sheet of paper and a quill. “It would be safer for you to handle the situation. Briggs must receive the message before dawn, so that the Admiralty can arrange things immediately … by midday, hopefully.”
“It’s as good as done.” Boyd glanced out the window at the pitch-black skies. “I’ll go to Briggs’s residence directly from here, while it’s still dark. Then I’ll snatch a few hours’ sleep and make my way to the docks.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “I’ll arrive just in time to have breakfast with our assistants on the wharf.”
“Excellent.” Rem completed his cryptic note with a flourish, folded it and handed it to Boyd. “Can you be back here by mid-afternoon? I should have news from the Admiralty by then.”
“I’ll be here. Your food is better than mine, anyway.”
Rem didn’t smile. “We’ve both grown spoiled, my friend. Do you remember what we used to eat at sea?”
A shadow crossed Boyd’s tired face. “I have the same memories you do, Rem. But those days are behind us now.”
“Are they?”
“They must be.”
“I still have nightmares … vivid ones.” Rem inclined his head, meeting Boyd’s eyes with a penetrating stare. “Do you?”
“Sometimes.”
“Don’t you find yourself questioning the fates?”
“No.” Boyd brushed a lock of shaggy hair from his face. “Nor should you. Because it’s futile to do so. All the answers we ever hope to attain, we already possess.” He held up one finger. “I joined the navy to escape my mother’s interfering domination and managing a dull textile business. You had a relentless dream to leave your mark on this world and a spirit that refused to be tamed.”
Counting off his second finger, Boyd continued. “I left the navy because I no longer wanted to run. I felt I had something meaningful to do—you provided me with that opportunity. You left because the innocent bloodshed sickened you and your dream was transformed into an obsession for justice. As for everything else—the death, the futility—there are no answers to those things, Rem. Stop looking for them. All you’re succeeding in doing is torturing yourself. You’re accomplishing all you intended—righting the inequities within your control. The rest is up to fate. When are you going to accept that?”
“Perhaps never.”
“Never is a long time, my friend.” Boyd lay his hand on Rem’s shoulder. “Isn’t it time you made peace with yourself?”
“I don’t know if that’s possible. Not in a world as ugly and unjust as ours.”
“There’s beauty, too. Seek it out.”
“I’d rather not. Beauty elicits emotion, and I have no desire to grapple with
Boyd cleared his throat. “So, you escorted Samantha to Hatchard’s. …I take it she enjoys reading?”
“I don’t think the term ‘enjoy’ is powerful enough to describe the relationship Samantha has with her books.” Rem grinned, remembering the look on the harried footman’s face when he’d seen the towering pile of reading matter Sammy had purchased in one hour’s time. “The stack we carried to the carriage was taller than Samantha herself. She assures me, however, that she will have read the whole lot of them in a fortnight.”
“Then you’ll have to take her back for new ones, won’t you?” Boyd asked carefully, studying his friend’s face.
“Yes. I suppose I will.”
A flicker of awareness registered in Boyd’s eyes, then vanished. “I’d best get some rest. The next few days promise to be taxing ones.” He rose. “How do you want to handle the situation with the Bow Street Magistrate? Do you want me to contact Briggs?”
Rem nodded in obvious relief. “I had planned to pen him a note—in code, of course—and have one of my servants deliver it, but since you’re here rather than at Annie’s …” Leaning over his desk, Rem extracted a plain sheet of paper and a quill. “It would be safer for you to handle the situation. Briggs must receive the message before dawn, so that the Admiralty can arrange things immediately … by midday, hopefully.”
“It’s as good as done.” Boyd glanced out the window at the pitch-black skies. “I’ll go to Briggs’s residence directly from here, while it’s still dark. Then I’ll snatch a few hours’ sleep and make my way to the docks.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “I’ll arrive just in time to have breakfast with our assistants on the wharf.”
“Excellent.” Rem completed his cryptic note with a flourish, folded it and handed it to Boyd. “Can you be back here by mid-afternoon? I should have news from the Admiralty by then.”
“I’ll be here. Your food is better than mine, anyway.”
Rem didn’t smile. “We’ve both grown spoiled, my friend. Do you remember what we used to eat at sea?”
A shadow crossed Boyd’s tired face. “I have the same memories you do, Rem. But those days are behind us now.”
“Are they?”
“They must be.”
“I still have nightmares … vivid ones.” Rem inclined his head, meeting Boyd’s eyes with a penetrating stare. “Do you?”
“Sometimes.”
“Don’t you find yourself questioning the fates?”
“No.” Boyd brushed a lock of shaggy hair from his face. “Nor should you. Because it’s futile to do so. All the answers we ever hope to attain, we already possess.” He held up one finger. “I joined the navy to escape my mother’s interfering domination and managing a dull textile business. You had a relentless dream to leave your mark on this world and a spirit that refused to be tamed.”
Counting off his second finger, Boyd continued. “I left the navy because I no longer wanted to run. I felt I had something meaningful to do—you provided me with that opportunity. You left because the innocent bloodshed sickened you and your dream was transformed into an obsession for justice. As for everything else—the death, the futility—there are no answers to those things, Rem. Stop looking for them. All you’re succeeding in doing is torturing yourself. You’re accomplishing all you intended—righting the inequities within your control. The rest is up to fate. When are you going to accept that?”
“Perhaps never.”
“Never is a long time, my friend.” Boyd lay his hand on Rem’s shoulder. “Isn’t it time you made peace with yourself?”
“I don’t know if that’s possible. Not in a world as ugly and unjust as ours.”
“There’s beauty, too. Seek it out.”
“I’d rather not. Beauty elicits emotion, and I have no desire to grapple with
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