Page 9 of A Game of Hazard

His senses heightened—the prickling on the back of his neck told him the tavern had been a hive of activity just a few moments before. There was no point giving the occupants any additional time to prepare, so he strode forward, kicked in a panel of the door, and reached through to unbolt it.

As the door crashed open against the wall, he reached back for Willmott’s lantern, then turned to the men.

“Guard all doors and gateways in case our quarry attempts to escape. Lieutenant, take the ground floor, and Masterson and I will take upstairs. We’ll round up everyone we find and meet back in the taproom.”

By this time, a red-faced innkeeper in nightshirt and bed cap had appeared. A middle-aged female, with a wrap thrown over her nightgown, leaned over the banisters and glared at Giles.

“What’s going on? Explain yourself, sir!”

He gave her a mocking bow. “Forgive the intrusion, ma’am. I have reason to believe there are wanted criminals beneath your roof. I have a license from the Customs Office to apprehend them.”

“Our customers went home hours ago, and there’s only one person staying.”

“You must bear with me while we search the premises. Far be it from me to dispute the word of a lady, but in my profession, I’ve learned that few people tell the truth to a man in uniform.”

He mounted the last few steps, shone his lantern into the room from which the woman had just emerged, and noted the rumpled bedsheets. He gave a mirthless smile. Easily staged. After a good hunt, he progressed to the adjoining room, but it was locked.

He turned to the innkeeper’s wife. “What’s in here?”

The woman folded her arms across her bosom. “The guest I told you about. A young lady who was taken ill and left behind by her companions. I’m charged to take care of her until they return.”

He rolled his eyes—a likely story. Some wench who had run off to be with her lover, no doubt. Well, that didn’t matter to him. He needed to see with his own eyes every resident of the inn, whether they be illicit lovers or not. He wouldn’t be satisfied until his men had examined all the rooms for hidden caches under the floorboards, tunnels, and secret cellars concealed behind stacks of ale barrels. And there were any number of places the ringleader might hide—he’d even heard of escape holes in chimneys so well sealed that a fire could be lit in the grate without smoking out the occupant.

A shout from below diverted him from his intention of disturbing the young lady. Leaving Masterson to stand guard in the passage, he chased downstairs to the taproom and found Willmott peering into the vast fireplace.

“I haven’t found anyone but the staff so far. But there’s something afoot here, sir.” He placed his hand on the large curfew covering the fire. “It’s scorching hot, so the fire has only just been extinguished. Why would anyone do that?”

Giles bent and touched the curfew, then pulled out his kerchief and wound it around the handle, removing the vessel from the fire. Willmott was right. The fire had been a roaring blaze not ten minutes ago. Why had they put it out so quickly? And why was there a heap of fresh soot at the back of the fireplace? There was a scatter of it on the hearthstone, too.

He raised his lantern, poked his head in, and gazed up the chimney shaft. “I can’t see anything. But it’s possible contraband was hidden here. Or even a person. But we’ll have to let the bricks cool before we can investigate.”

He pulled back and turned to Willmott. “Leave a man here to watch these two.” He indicated the innkeeper and a tousle-headed pot boy who had just appeared. “I’m going to continue my search upstairs. There’s something amiss here—I’m sure of it.”

He arrived back on the landing just in time to see the landlady issuing from the locked room. He glowered at her.

She stiffened. “I was just making sure that the young lady wasn’t afraid. She must have thought we were under attack. I’ve assured her that it’s just a troop of common soldiers and she has nothing to fear from you.”

He pushed past her and stalked into the room. A curse upon the woman—she and the chamber’s occupant would have had plenty of time to hide any trace of wrongdoing.

The room was lit by a flickering candle over an empty fireplace. A completely empty fireplace. No coal, no logs, and a surprisingly clean grate and fire-back. But before he could puzzle out why this should be, Giles’s attention was arrested by the young woman sitting on the end of the bed. His heart jolted.

“Miss Isaacs?”

She shot him an appalled look. “Captain Harewood?”

An icy cold invaded his gut. It was impossible that she should be here. Unless…

His fingers trembled as he seized her arm, pulling her upright. She was still wearing her dark green evening gown with the short sleeves—surely, she would have changed had she been visiting a sick friend?

Her skin was hot to the touch, and a spot of soot marred her cheek.

He resisted the urge to wipe it away. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you, sir.” She struggled in his grip, but he kept her ruthlessly imprisoned. “I was called away to visit my sick friend, but all the excitement of the ball, followed by the ride, brought on a migraine, and I could move no farther. Let me go. I need to lie down.”

A likely story—although it might explain her pallor and the greenish tinge around her mouth. How he wanted to believe her! Releasing her, he let her sit back on the bed.

“I’m sorry to hear you’re unwell, and I apologize for my intrusion.”