Page 12 of A Game of Hazard

“I have a scheme that will rid us of both the danger of discovery and the unwanted attentions of Captain Giles Harewood.” It was a desperate remedy, but then, the situation was desperate.

“I’m relieved to hear it. Despite his appearance of charm and good nature, I find the officer’s custom of opening our correspondence decidedly unpleasant. Having once thought of him as a good marriage prospect for you, I can now tell you I have eradicated him from my list of potential suitors.”

Mama had a list? Then it was more important than ever that Alex carry out her plan, and the two of them escape Bath as soon as possible.

“I am going to need laudanum, white lead, and rouge. We’ll need the services of an apothecary and an undertaker. And we’ll have to bribe them if we can’t fool them. But you must write the messages to summon them—Harewood knows my handwriting now, and if my ploy is to succeed, he must think me no longer capable of writing.”

Mama’s eyes were wide. “What on earth are you scheming about now, Daughter?”

“I’m going to try something used by one of the most infamous smugglers this country has ever seen.”

“I can’t imagine what you mean.”

“I am going to confound Captain Giles Harewood once and forever. I’m going to die.”

CHAPTER 6

Miss Alexandra Isaacs was as clever as she was beautiful. Whether or not she was involved with lowlife contrabanders, Giles couldn’t help but admire how she’d stood up to him. They’d met but twice, and there was so much he didn’t know about her. And a great deal that he wanted—dash it, needed—to know. He must wear her down in the end—especially if he was to save her neck. The reward money had gone up by another hundred guineas, and he was still trying to work out how he could take the smuggling ring down and collect the reward without harming Miss Isaacs.

She couldn’t evade him forever. And her smuggler lover, whoever he was, was bound to try contacting her. When he did, Giles would be ready to take him. Had Lady Osbourne known, when she’d forced him to court Miss Isaacs, that the young lady’s heart was already taken? And why had her ladyship told him that the young woman was an heiress? He’d seen no sign of great wealth about her person, nor that of her mother, and their rented dwelling, though respectable, was nowhere near as lavish as the rooms occupied by Lady Pandora Osbourne.

There was something rank about the whole business. Why had he been fed false information about a cargo of liquor being stashed at the Boar? Was someone trying to implicate Miss Isaacs’s lover? Or did they have something against the young lady herself?

He hated being made a fool of. He was sure there had been contraband there, but he simply hadn’t had enough men for further searching. Those who’d accompanied him had already made themselves look ridiculous by tearing apart haystacks, shoveling a heap of manure from one spot to another, and dragging the nearby millpond with pitchforks.

The only peculiar thing they’d discovered was a short shaft running from the taproom chimney into the room Miss Isaacs had been sleeping in. Somehow, the smuggler—or smugglers—must have reached that room by scrambling up the chimney before climbing out the window and escaping across the roof. How they’d accomplished this without being seen by the soldiers outside, Giles had no idea.

His gut told him that Miss Isaacs was the key, and he couldn’t afford to let her out of his sight until she’d given him the information he needed. Let Lady Osbourne think he was courting her, let Bath society think he was a jilted lover who refused to give up—it didn’t matter. He would triumph in the end.

There was a bustle about the house this morning. An apothecary had been sent for, and Giles had let him into the house without questioning him. If someone was ill, it was no business of his. Besides, he suspected it was just a ruse on Miss Isaacs’s part to convince him she was too sick to receive him. As he’d attended more than one siege during his army career, he knew how to play the waiting game. The occupants of the house would tire eventually, and he’d get what he needed.

The front door clicked open, and Giles straightened to see the apothecary hurrying out, his bottles making a cacophony of clinking in his bag. He caught the man’s eye and raised a questioning eyebrow, but the fellow shook his head dismissively and hurried off down the street.

The hairs stood up on the back of Giles’s neck. Had he read the situation wrong? Was Miss Isaacs genuinely sick? If so, he’d just wasted an entire week. No, not wasted. He’d taken forbidden pleasure in the few glimpses of her he’d been granted, and allowed his thoughts to wander down those amatory avenues again.

If he were free of his commitments—and if her heart did not belong to a worthless criminal—they would deal very well together. Was this something that Lady Pandora Osbourne had foreseen? Was this why she’d cheated at that game of Hazard—because she knew she was pointing him in the direction of his perfect mate? He was now positive that she had cheated—her tapping the dice on the table had been no idle action.

Flexing his shoulders, Giles had just decided it was time someone else took over the watch for a while when another gentleman approached the Isaacs’s front door. He was clad in black, carried a notebook, and had a measuring tape spilling out of one of his voluminous pockets.

Giles straightened immediately and strode toward the fellow, grasping his elbow before he could knock on the door.

“May I ask your business, sir?” He scanned the new arrival, looking for any indication that he might be Miss Isaacs’s beau or some go-between for the smuggling ring to which that beau belonged.

The gentleman, a fellow somewhat advanced in years and very respectable-looking, reached into an inner pocket and opened his card case.

“Henry Finchhorn, at your service. Bespoke coffins and other funerary arrangements.”

Giles dropped the card like a burning coal. An undertaker?

The old man stooped, dusted his card off, and handed it back to Giles. “You’ll find my services very reasonable, so you may as well keep it.”

“I cannot believe that anyone in this house has died. I think you’ll find when you enter that you’ve been hoodwinked, sir.”

The man removed his glasses, wiped them on his sleeve, and replaced them. “I mean no disrespect, but people are generally correct when they believe someone has passed away. Now, if I can be of no further use to you, pray let me carry on about my business. It is most painful for the family and therefore, best dealt with swiftly.”

If this man was a smuggler in disguise, he was putting on a laudable act. To go to the trouble of having business cards printed out was a sign of true cunning.

The undertaker peered at Giles. “Is the household under arrest?”