Seb nodded. “So, what’s the plan? Wait until Johnstone arrives, barge in, and arrest him?”

“That’s about it,” Ben said. “Let’s just hope he shows. Admiral Cockburn wants us to commandeer the submarine rather than destroy it—he wants it sailing down to the Royal Navy dockyards at Woolwich, but I’ll be damned if I know how to get it there. Either of you know how to sail?”

Alex grimaced. “Don’t look at me. I spent the entire crossing from Belgium casting up my accounts, if you recall. I get nauseous if I look at a puddle.”

Seb shook his head. “I’ve only ever manned row boats.”

“Well, Bow Street only wants Johnstone,” Benedict said. “If Cockburn wants the vessel, he can bloody well send someone to get it. When we’ve nabbed Johnstone, one of us can guard the warehouse until the Admiralty arrives.”

Georgie could have sailed it, he thought. She’d studied the plans, knew how the infernal contraption worked. She’d be miles better than anyone the Admiralty could send. Perhaps he’d suggest it to Cockburn. She’d be in no danger once Johnstone was in custody.

He wondered where she was now. Probably still in bed, catching up on much-needed sleep. The thought brought a smile to his lips, and he realized how impatient he was to see her again. That in itself was unusual. With every other woman, he’d found that sleeping with her invariably got her out of his system. His curiosity was assuaged, the itch satisfied. Not so with Georgie. Making love to her, knowing her more intimately, had only tightened the strings that bound them, increased his curiosity. He wanted her again. Maybe tonight, she—

Seb’s hand, waving in front of his nose, reclaimed his attention, and Benedict felt an uncharacteristic heat flush his neck. Christ. He was acting like a besotted schoolboy.

“Distracted by your lady love?” Seb teased mercilessly, uncannily accurate as ever.

Benedict scowled. “Let’s go.”

He reached for the brass doorknob at the same moment an urgent hammering sounded on the other side. A scruffy lad was panting on the steps. “Benedict Wylde?”

“Yes.”

The boy thrust a folded letter at him. “I was told to give this to you.”

Ben broke the seal, scanned the letter, then swore fluently and long. “That bastard. I should have put a sword through him when I had the chance.”

“What is it?”

He thrust the paper at Alex.

“‘I have your wife,’” Alex read aloud. “‘Tell her sister to retrieve her jewels, along with any cash in the house, and deliver them to me at Rupert’s place in Hounslow. Juliet can give you the direction. If you do not do as I say, I will enjoy my cousin as you enjoyed her last night. Come alone and unarmed, or I will hurt her. Josiah Caversteed.’”