Chapter 39.

It took Benedict less than three seconds to recognize his wife as she slipped through the coffeehouse door. He scowled. She probably thought she was being unobtrusive, keeping her head down so the cap shaded her features, but he was so intensely aware of her that he couldn’t believe no one else saw through her disguise.

She slid onto the wooden bench next to him. He glanced at the front of her shirt, buttons straining over her small, pert breasts, and prayed for strength. Her slim legs were encased in tight brown breeches, which outlined her rounded derrière in the most tempting way possible. They weren’t touching, but he caught a whiff of her perfume, the intoxicating scent of her skin as she moved. That unmistakably feminine smell would be a surefire giveaway to anyone who got close to her. Not that he’d allow anyone to get close to her.

He pressed his palms flat on the table to stop himself grabbing her by the lapels, hauling her outside into the alley, and ravishing her up against the wall.

Bloody hell.

“Evening, George,” Alex murmured across the table.

She nodded at him, then at Seb, who was slouched in the corner, cradling his second cup of coffee. Ben glanced over at the large tavern clock positioned next to the bar. Not long to go. He ordered a chocolate for Georgie, and she sipped it dutifully.

Despite the fact that it was nearly midnight, the place was still lively, but the crowd thinned a little as they waited for the tide. He, Alex, and Seb had gone over the plan in detail. After they slipped into the warehouse, they would slide open the rear doors and launch the vessel into the water. He and Georgie would navigate it to the Royal Navy dockyards, while Alex and Seb would remain to dismantle the rest of the smugglers’ paraphernalia and look for further evidence that might incriminate Johnstone and O’Meara.

Benedict kept an eye on the masts of the boats moored in the small dock behind the warehouse. The pool was separated from the main flow of the river by a set of thick wooden gates that could be swung open to allow access. As he watched, the boats turned on their anchor chains, swinging around to face the opposite direction with the turning of the tide. “All right, it’s time.”

He was about to stand when a scruffy figure sidled up to the table, and he raised his brows as he recognized the newcomer. Jem Barnes wiped his nose on his sleeve and gave an eloquent sniff.

“Evenin’, all.” He nodded at Ben, Seb, and Alex, cast the briefest look at Georgie, and added, “Miss.”

Ben snorted. So much for her disguise. Nothing got past a sharp one like Jem. “What are you doing here?”