Leopold could have intercepted them on the beach. He could have confiscated the tea and turned it over to the authorities as evidence against Crossings. But they’d tried that before, only to later learn it had mysteriously disappeared.
Another option had been for him to keep the tea and sell it for his own profits. But Leopold refused to participate in the opium for tea trade in any way.
He had a better idea—one that wouldn’t only thwart the duke’s operations, but be a slap in the face to anyone who’d support it.
And so he’d hatched this plan, one where they’d meet those boats in the water.
For a moment, listening to the water splashing around them, Leopold imagined men who’d defended Smuggler’s Manor from invaders several centuries before—to protect what was theirs. It was a timeless urge. With the cool mist in his face, Leopold’s heart raced, all his senses on alert, and he clenched his fists in anticipation.
Both of his crews, two boats, cut through the swelling waves without making a sound. They’d honed the uncanny ability to silently communicate, to make themselves invisible, long before they’d ever seen the shores of Smuggler’s Cove.
Ten yards now. Then five.
Crossings’ runners remained oblivious, all of them looking forward as they prepared to land on the narrow beach, watching for the sharp rocks that littered the cove. The poor sods wouldn’t even see it coming,
His crew had all been crouched low, but at Leopold’s signal, he and his men rose up. The moment their boat scuttled parallel to the runners, he, Miles, and Smithy leapt across the gap while Ace worked to quickly tie the boats together.
“What the hell—?” It was all the runner could get out before Leopold had his arm around the man’s neck. The fellow tried to claw himself free, pulling and thrashing about, but to no avail. Having pulled the same maneuver more times than he could count, Leopold simply tightened his grip until the runner went limp. Only then, while binding the unconscious man’s arms, did Leopold glance around to check on the rest of his crew’s progress.
It was almost too easy.
Having the advantage of superior numbers and a surprise attack, they had effortlessly subdued the small team. The runners’ hands were all tied together and their mouths gagged with handkerchiefs so they couldn’t call out to the main ship.
With that part of the mission complete, Leopold and his gang methodically cracked open each barrel, propped them on the edges of the boats, and began dumping the contents into the sea.
As the pungent, unmistakable odor of oolong wafted over the waters, Leopold imagined tea leaves washing up on shores all along the southern coasts of England with a smile.
But he’d gloated too soon.
Leopold had barely tossed the barrel aside when a shadow came swinging toward his head from the side. And then pain.
And then nothing.
Much later, Smithy would say the collision was so loud, he’d thought they’d rammed into another boat, sending one of the unopened barrels into the churning sea.
But the collision wasn’t their boat striking another. It was an oar hitting Leopold’s head. And they’d not lost one of the unopened barrels. No, that splash had been Leopold.
Tumbling over the edge and into the water.
Unconscious.
PRELUDE TO A SEDUCTION
He’d walked out on her.
In the middle of a meal.
Again.
For a full minute after the door had slammed behind him, Amelia sat frozen, silently willing him to return but knowing he would not.
If not for the sheer force of her good manners, she would have stormed out behind him or simply fled to her chamber where she could nurse her bruised pride.
But an entire meal had been prepared. Mr. Beckworth’s servants had no doubt spent hours slicing and chopping vegetables, cleaning the various meats, and seasoning and cooking each dish to delightful perfection.
And she refused to take it for granted. Having been denied the choice to decide what, and how much food she could eat her entire life, her feelings stretched beyond normal appreciation.
And so, she remained in the dining room alone, chipping away at her meal, bite by bite, until she’d finished half of the food she’d served herself.
