Page 50 of When You Rescued Me

And then she’d escaped his study before he could reconsider.

Hannah sighed. It truly had seemed like a good idea then. Now she was not sure what to think.

A knock on the door interrupted her musings.

“Come in,” she called.

Romford appeared. “Mr. Ross is here, Miss Dennington,” he announced.

Her heart lifted. “Is he in the drawing room?”

“Yes, miss. Do you wish me to have John and Fanny join you?”

“Thank you, yes. And let my sisters know we are gathering, too, if you would.”

He inclined his head. “Of course, miss.”

Romford set off down the hall to gather everyone, and Hannah hurried downstairs. The drawing room door was open, and when she entered, Samuel had already removed his hat and cloak and was standing near the fireplace, gazing sightlessly into the flames. Her pulse quickened. The navy could probably take much of the credit for his muscular physique, but his thick dark hair, firm jaw, and slightly crooked nose were all his own. And he was, by far, the most handsome gentleman of her acquaintance.

“Good day, Samuel,” she said.

He startled, and for a split second, she caught the worry in his eyes before it disappeared behind a polite smile. “Good day, Hannah.” He bowed. “I apologize for being late.”

She walked toward him, wishing she’d had time to fully read his earlier expression. No matter his seemingly calm greeting, something was not entirely as it should be. “It is quite all right,” she said. “But I hope your delay was not caused by anything significant.”

He hesitated a fraction too long.

“Would it help to tell me?” she asked. “If you are permitted to, that is?”

He nodded. “I daresay it will be common knowledge soon enough,” he said. “Bow Street just received word that someone ignited a fire in the dockyard rope warehouse at Portsmouth last evening. The warehouse burned to the ground, and the naval stores were destroyed.”

“Good heavens!” Hannah did nothing to hide her shock. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”

“I cannot say. It may have been an accident, although Sir John is skeptical on that point. He has sent Clarke and Stephenson to investigate.”

“But you wish he had sent you?” she said.

Surprise flickered in his eyes. “I had not thought myself so transparent.”

“You are nothing of the kind, but I can tell the news has you distracted.”

“Clarke and Stephenson are better qualified to uncover evidence at the site, but I confess, I would have liked to have joined them.” He released a tense breath. “After reporting to the Admiralty in London, HMS Swan’s new captain sailed her to Portsmouth for repairs. Even though we have heard nothing about any damage to the ships at dock, I will be anxious to hear Clarke and Stephenson’s report.”

“I can understand that,” she said. “After so many years together, your crewmates must have seemed like family. It is only natural that you would be concerned for them.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” He glanced at the open door. “If you are willing, there is another matter I would speak to you about before anyone else arrives.”

“Of course.” Hannah had no way of knowing how quickly Romford would find the others, but she was quite sure it would not be long before they were interrupted.

Samuel tugged his gloves off and balled them in his fists. “That day you saw me at the wharf,” he began, “it was not the first time we had seen each other.”

“It was not?” Confused, she studied his face, noting the deep lines on his brow and the sorrow in his eyes. Her gaze dropped to his clenched hands, another sure indicator of his disquiet. His left hand twitched, and for the first time, she noticed the circular scar running across his center knuckle. Why did it look familiar? Her thoughts spun as she attempted to connect the mark with something locked in the far recesses of her mind.

He swallowed. “My name is Samuel Ross,” he said, “but in my youth, some called me Sammy.”

Sammy. The moment he said the name, a long-forgotten memory—of a scar the very same shape and in the very same location as the one on Samuel’s hand—filled her mind.

“The pickpocket!” The words escaped her in a strangled whisper. It couldn’t be! That Sammy had been taken into custody and sentenced to death long ago . . . Hadn’t he?