“Hmm. As I said, I am withholding my judgment for the time being.”
Thomas was not willing to withhold his judgment and said, “I am not certain she is cut out for country life. She complains about so many things and seems to miss London, even though she has been gone but a few days. And you know that I cannot run my business from London. I need to be fully engaged here.”
Augusta patted Thomas’s arm. “But there is the forty thousand a year…”
“A sum we might well equal if our business is successful.”
“But I thought you found her intelligent and charming?”
“At first. But on closer examination… well… I, too, am withholding my judgement for the time being.”
* * *
Wilcox was back in the public room of the inn well before ten o’clock later that same evening. But he was restless, and he did not sit but paced until Ezra showed himself.
“There you are.”
Ezra gave a gruff laugh. “Did you think I would not show up?”
“Are you ready?” Wilcox asked nervously.
“The wagons are lined up and ready to go.”
“Come then.” And Wilcox led the way out of the inn, down the street and toward the warehouse.
At the corner, across the street from the warehouse, Wilcox and Ezra stopped and carefully inspected the street for unusual activity. But all was quiet except for the train of Ezra’s wagons waiting to be let into the warehouse for loading.
“Come,” Wilcox said, as he dug into his pocket for the keys to let them gain entrance.
They crossed the street, and Wilcox quickly opened a small door, and they entered. The large doors he unlocked from the inside, and both men began to roll the doors aside to let the wagons pull into the warehouse. Men jumped down and immediately began to load the casks of rum into the wagons, as quickly and quietly as possible.
“The money?” Wilcox insisted, holding out his hand.
Ezra gave Wilcox a wry smile and plopped a purse of coins in his hand. “There, as promised. And let this be the beginning of a profitable venture for all of us.”
Wilcox quickly pocketed the purse and said, “Hurry up. The sooner you are out of here the better.”
“Patience. Patience. All is well. Half an hour, tops.”
Wilcox was uncommonly nervous and began pacing again. He went to the door and looked up and down the street. There was no sign of any activity. He took a breath and finally began to relax just as the first wagon was loaded and ready to leave the building.
Ezra came over and shook Wilcox’s hand. “We are done. I will contact you when I am ready for the next shipment. Should be in…”
But suddenly there were cries of “Stop—Tax and Revenue. You are not going anywhere.” And a multitude of men with firearms suddenly appeared and blocked all the open doors.
Wilcox tried to flee up a flight of stairs that led to offices above the warehouse floor, but a number of agents came down the stairs toward him and grabbed him and bound his hands.
Both Wilcox and Ezra glared at each other, thinking the other was responsible for this. But then Wilcox realized, there was only one person who could have done this—Ralph, the Earl of Comerford.
Chapter 33
It was a heartbreaking task—replying to Evan’s letter, but Jenny knew Helena was right. She must break off her relationship with Evan, even if it meant she would be alone. But then, she still had her baking and her dream of one day being a pastry chef in a grand house. That was where she had started, and that was where she would end. She was determined to make her dream a reality and began to think how she might reach out to estates across the country looking for a pastry chef. That gave her some comfort.
But that plan did not make it any easier to write this letter to Evan.
Dearest Evan,
I received your kind and loving letter, but forgive me for not responding sooner. It has been most difficult for me to know how to answer you.
