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“Very well,” he said, dropping into the chair opposite the one Jonas occupied. “I grant that I owe you an opportunity to elaborate upon your madcap plan, but agreeing to listen does not signify my approval.” He eyed him warily. “Like it or not, we are no longer school boys; the responsibilities we bear are significant.”

Jonas needed no reminding. The tragedy that had initially brought the boys together at Eton had taken the lives of Jonas’s father and Alexander’s uncle. A mere three years later, Alexander’s father had died of the influenza, leaving both young men shouldering the weight of their respective inheritances. Along with titles, land, and money had come obligations to their mothers, tenants, and parliament.

“Believe me,” Jonas said, “my quest to expose the leaders of the Lamhurst Gang is no act of tomfoolery. Their lawless reign along the coast of Kent has continued far too long, and it’s time to make things right. Not only for the sake of your mother and mine but for the countless others they’ve hurt who’ve never had a voice.”

“That’s all very noble,” Alexander said, “but you are one man. Do you really believe you can succeed where so many customs officials and lawmen have failed?”

Jonas snorted. “Bloxley Hall may not be located as close to the sea as Langton Manor, but you know full well how poorly the customs officials operate along our shores. They’re outnumbered and outwitted at every turn. Coastal residents whose consciences have been deadened by the allure of money or the fear of reprisal conspire with the smugglers and choose to ignore the violence occurring in their own villages.” He leaned forward in his chair, his voice becoming impassioned. “It has to stop, Alex. My father died attempting to prevent the Lamhurst Gang from wrecking a ship and killing its passengers. I will not allow his death to be for naught.”

“And so you have decided to become one of them.”

Alexander’s ironic tone was not lost on Jonas. “It’s the only way. Gang members infiltrate every layer of Kent’s society. Their organization is such that the leaders are known to only a select few—certainly not to anyone outside their ranks. Any attempt to identify them and bring them to justice will have to come from within.”

“And exactly how do you intend to enter the Lamhurst Gang?”

Jonas leaned back in his chair once more, his brown eyes twinkling. “It’s already done.”

Alexander stared at him for a full ten seconds. “Would you care to elaborate?”

Setting his glass on the table beside his chair, Jonas sifted through the memories of the last few months, wondering how much he should share.

“There’s a tavern in the rookeries with an unlikely repute for serving excellent French spirits. Not surprisingly, the liquor is also priced far below anything your butler, Hastings, would normally have to pay.”

“I can only imagine,” Alexander said dryly. He swirled the remaining liquid in his glass, then finished it with one swallow.

Jonas stifled a grin. “A few months ago, I spent an evening lingering over a drink at that salubrious establishment. By midnight, most of the patrons were well into their cups and stories of clandestine deliveries and payments were being shared as freely as fleas.” He shrugged. “I simply ensured that several of the biggest talkers were aware of my interest in helping with the transfer of commodities of questionable origin.”

“Do you mean to tell me that not one of the miscreants in that tavern questioned why a member of the nobility was offering his services to transport smuggled goods through London?”

“I think it safe to say that they were completely unaware that a member of the nobility was anywhere in the vicinity. The man they spoke with looked and smelled as unpleasant as they did, and he answered to the name Reynard.”

Alexander groaned. “You took the nickname you earned at Eton?”

“Reynard the Fox, no. But why not simply Reynard? Whatever skills I developed in evading our schoolmasters could just as easily be applied to Bow Street runners.”

“Need I remind you that runners carry pistols?”

“So do I.”

“A fact that would likely place you in even greater peril should you be apprehended by one of them.”

Jonas inclined his head. “A fair but thankfully moot point. Last night, I completed my final delivery of half a dozen packets of tea to establishments in and around inner London. And I did so without encountering a single lawman.”

“Your final delivery?” An odd blend of curiosity and relief filled Alexander’s voice.

Wishing he could claim a similar sense of reprieve, Jonas rose to his feet. If the exploits he and Alexander had shared at school had taught him anything, it was the value of having a trustworthy ally. In truth, it was the reason he’d come to see his friend today. His involvement with the smugglers was about to enter another far more perilous phase, and he needed to know that Alexander was there should something go terribly wrong. He walked over to the study window and watched a carriage roll down the tree-lined street.

“It seems that Reynard has passed whatever test the Lamhurst Gang sets for its novice members,” he said. He turned to look at Alexander. “I’ve been summoned to Kent. To help unload a ship due to arrive off the coast next week.”

Alexander paled and stood to face him. “Where in Kent?”

“Little Tilbury.”

“Impossible,” Alexander said firmly. “Langton Manor is less than five miles from that village. The risk of you being recognized is too great.”

Jonas shook his head. “Not necessarily.” Clasping his hands behind his back, he crossed the short distance to the fireplace. “Although I visited the village often enough as a young boy, consider how my time has been spent since then. Like you, after five years boarding at Eton, I was off to Cambridge. My studies were followed by a tour of the Continent, and since then, other than a few short visits to see my mother and attend to occasional pressing needs on the estate, I’ve been in London. My steward takes excellent care of the day-to-day responsibilities at Langton, which has enabled me to focus on my investments here.”

“Your choice of residence is all well and good,” Alexander said. “But have you paused to study yourself in a looking glass recently? No matter how young you were the last time you visited Little Tilbury, someone is bound to notice your resemblance to your father.”