Wilcox was delighted to see Ezra Stanton come into the inn—right on time and looking eager to claim his cargo.

The public room of the inn was nearly empty this early in the morning, and that served Wilcox well, as he did not want their conversation to be overheard.

Ezra scanned the room, and seeing Wilcox, came over and sat at his table.

“It arrived?” Ezra asked.

“It did,” Wilcox responded.

“And it is unloaded and ready for my wagons to pick it up?”

“The warehouse is locked, secured, and all is ready for delivery.”

“But it cannot be until it is dark again,” Ezra insisted. “Too many inquisitive eyes in daylight.”

“That is entirely up to you,” Wilcox said. “But the goods have been delivered, and the final payment must be made… now.”

“Not so fast,” Ezra insisted. “You gets the money when I gets the goods. That was the deal.”

“I do not intend to wait around all day until it is dark again,” Wilcox complained.

“If I must, you must.”

“But I promised the shipper I would have his payment to him today.”

“Later tonight will still be today. And you will get your payment then. End of story.”

Wilcox was furious, but there was nothing he could do. This man was a thug and could easily do him in, get rid of the body, and keep the goods and the payment. But then, he also knew that Ezra wanted to continue this partnership if all went well, so he was unlikely to do anything to jeopardize that arrangement.

“Very well,” Wilcox finally said. “We meet back here at ten tonight.

The harbor should be quiet then and I will unlock the warehouse, and your wagons can go inside and load up in secret. But payment before I open up. Is that clearly understood?”

“After you open up and I can verify the shipment has arrived safely and is intact,” Ezra said standing and walking out of the pub.

Thomas stood at his bedroom window looking out over the winter wonderland stretching out before him. There had to be at least a foot of new snow since he had checked before bedtime. The storm had dumped at least a foot and a half to two feet total.

That meant no meaningful work on the racetrack and no working the horses in the ring. That almost certainly meant he would have three additional ladies on his hands for the entire day.

He sighed, dressed, and went down to breakfast.

Only Cordelia had arrived. It seemed everyone else was sleeping in—including his Grandmamma.

“We hardly ever get snow like this in London,” Cordelia enthused. “Can I go outside and make a snowman?”

“I do not see why not. Do you have warm enough outdoor clothing? If not, I am sure we can dig something up for you to wear.”

“Oh, yes, that would be lovely. We brought nothing nearly suitable for weather like this.” She laughed. “After all, we are delicate ladies, unsuited to the rigors of country living, as my sister so likes to insist.”

That gave Thomas a laugh too. “So, your sister does not care for the country?”

“Oh, she would loathe to have me say so. She wants to impress you with her worldly sophistication, but she can really be a snob sometimes. But you never heard that from me,” she said with a giggle.

So… Thomas thought, Lady Alderman is not all as she presents herself to be.”

“And what about you, Miss Cordelia, do you like the country?”

“I like horses. I really enjoyed seeing your racers yesterday. What a fine bunch. I think you will do very well and make our family a lot of money for our investment.”

“Well, I am happy you think so. But there is still a lot of work ahead if we are to be successful. Work that is not always dainty and ladylike. Do you think your sister would be the sort of person to pitch in and help out where needed?”

Cordelia took a bite of kippered herring and said, “If you needed someone to organize a party and entertain, then she might be your lady, but if you needed her to muck out a stall I would not place a bet on it.”

“Miss Cordelia, I do appreciate your honesty.”

“There is not a premium placed on honesty in London. I am often scolded for being a big mouth, my mother says—indelicate and not ladylike. But… well, I tend to say it as I see it.”

Lady Alderman, the elder, had come into the room and Cordelia spied her and said, “Oops. Am I in trouble?” she asked her mother.

Lady Alderman appeared not to want to get into a heated discussion in front of the Duke and said, “I have no idea what you are talking about, child. But it looks as though we have become snowed in.” She turned to Thomas and sighed, “It appears we shall be spending our day before the fire. I cannot imagine anyone will be going outside today.” She sat at her place at the table and said to Willoughby, “Tea, and something very warming for breakfast. What do you suggest?”

“We have porridge, Your Ladyship. As well as the usual fare. Whatever pleases you.”

“Porridge is disgusting. I see kippers. I shall have that, an egg, and toast with marmalade.”

“Of course, Your Ladyship. Right away.”

Lady Alderman and her daughter entered into a conversation about woolly undergarments to keep out the cold, and Thomas drifted into his own thoughts.

He had become alarmed at what he was discovering about the Aldermans and decided he needed to have a conversation with his Grandmamma.

Right after breakfast, Thomas trudged through the snow to the stables. He expected to find Barnstable, as he lived in a flat above the horses. But he was shocked to see the young Robert standing by and ready for whatever was required of him.

“Mr. Robert, I did not expect you on a snowy morning like today. How ever did you get here?”

“My papa bought me a horse. Not a fine one, but a serviceable one.” He pointed to what had been an empty stall and Thomas could see a most dilapidated-looking nag. “Is it fine for me to keep her here while I am working, Your Grace?”

“Aye. Happy we can provide a shelter for her on a day like this.”

“I am ready to work. How can I help you today?” Robert asked.

Thomas was most impressed with the spunk the boy showed, and he felt they had made the right decision in hiring him.

“There will be no riding today.” Thomas turned to Barnstable and asked, “Might you be able to give the lad some indoor instruction? Basics before he starts actually riding?”

“That is what I was thinking. Thought we might start with grooming the horses. In weather like this, we need to keep them warm and a good brushing helps.”

“Excellent. Do whatever can be done today. Best to do inside work. And let me know if you need anything.”

“Aye, Your Grace,” Barnstable said, touching his cap.

Thomas started to leave but stopped and said to Robert, “I saw your sister, Jenny, last evening. Did she manage to get home last night?”

“No sir and it was causing an uproar in the bakery before I left, I can tell you,” Robert said with a laugh.

Thomas found his Grandmamma in the kitchen pantry checking the seals on her newly made raspberry jam.

“Here you are. When can we try some of that?” he asked.

“Any time. I shall instruct Cook to put it out with the marmalade to serve next breakfast,” she answered, as she stood back to admire her shelf laden with her new treat. “What a storm last night, I was afraid you might not make it home but would be found, by the side of the road, frozen solid like a tin soldier in the midst of battle.”

“It was close but, as you can see, I survived.” He took his Grandmamma’s arm and asked, “What is your impression of our guests, Grandmamma?”

She looked at him askance. “I will just say I am reserving my judgement for the moment.”

“Then you have reservations about Lady Alderman?”

She pursed her lips and reached up to turn a jar, so the label was in alignment with the other jars. “She meets all of our qualifications for a duchess…”

“But?”

“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.