Page 8 of A Game of Hazard

Damn the man! Why did he have to be so well-mannered?

“No need, sir. I can fend for myself. I’d be obliged if you could tell my mother that I’ve had to step out a moment, but not to worry if I’m required to stay away.”

She turned and hurried for the door, clasping the note in her hand. Its arrival meant only one thing, and her heart thundered like a cavalry brigade at the prospect.

She and their tenant at the Boar Inn, John Erskine, had a secret code to identify what business she was needed for. The use of her whole name on the outside of the page meant that the worst had happened—they had been found out, and she needed to get herself to the Boar post-haste. The Circle’s operation here in Somerset was under threat, and the latest consignment must be hidden or moved on immediately.

There would be a fast horse concealed around the corner, and a bag containing her male clothing, so she could ride unmolested once she’d changed. She had to pray that her suitor, Giles Harewood, made no attempt to find out what she was up to, or the entire enterprise could be destroyed.

CHAPTER 4

When Giles made his apologies to Lady Osbourne and left the assembly, it was not to pursue the mysterious Miss Isaacs—much as he might have wished to.

It was duty that called him away, in the shape of an urgent summons from Lieutenant Willmott. An anonymous note sent to their billet claimed that a large consignment of contraband brandy was to be discovered at a tavern some miles south of Bath. Hoping this would lead them to the ringleader of the Dorset Circle, Giles quashed his regrets about the ball and made for home.

When he got there, however, it was to find a scene of pandemonium. It required a well-directed punch and much bellowing to calm his men down and establish what had caused the fracas.

“Corporal Richmond was accused of cheating at dice,” Willmott explained. “This led to him exchanging blows with Masterson, and, as you can imagine, it wasn’t long before the rest joined the fray.”

Giles frowned at his second-in-command. “Couldn’t you stop them?”

“Trust me—I would’ve enjoyed emptying the piss-pot over the lot of them, but at that point the note came, so I had to find a runner to fetch you.”

Shrugging out of his scarlet regimental coat, Giles pulled a dark cape over his shoulders, then surveyed the rabble in front of him. One by one, they stood to attention, falling quiet beneath his steely gaze.

“I hope you villains are sober enough to ride with me to the Boar Tavern. If our luck is in, we’ll capture our smugglers there and seize some contraband liquor. Success means you’ll get a share of the prize money—so long as I can trust you to put it to good use. No—not you, Richmond. You can stay here and tidy up the mess you’ve made. Masterson comes with me, so I can keep you two hotheads apart.”

Flinging his dress sword into a corner, Giles exchanged it for a saber and swapped his dancing shoes for riding boots. Then he strode into the exercise yard to ensure there were horses and weapons enough for the forthcoming raid. Curse his men for their drunken brawling! Time was of the essence, and they’d wasted too much already.

Trotting at the head of his troop as they marched along the empty streets, he took a moment to reflect that everything he’d been striving for since his return from the battlefield was within his grasp.

As they passed the Pump Rooms, lamplight flickered on a new ‘Wanted’ poster. He grinned—the reward for capturing the Dorset Circle’s leader had gone up by another fifty guineas. Perfect! To spend the first half of his evening with the enchanting Miss Isaacs and the second half achieving his ambition was cause for celebration. And success would free him from Lady Osbourne’s power.

This realization didn’t bring him the satisfaction he’d expected. It was a shame to make a lady’s acquaintance, then immediately drop it. Especially when that lady was so thoroughly mystifying as Miss Alexandra Isaacs. It made a pleasant change to talk to someone almost face-to-face without getting a crick in the neck. He must see if he could teach Miss Isaacs to dance if the opportunity ever afforded—they’d fit together extremely well. Lady Osbourne would have made a good choice had he been in the marriage mart. Which he wasn’t. His share of the reward money would only stretch to modest dowries for his sisters, not to supporting a wife for himself. A pity.

He ran a finger around the inside of his collar—his thoughts were starting to wander down forbidden avenues. To distract himself, he turned to Willmott.

“So, Lieutenant, of what crime has Corporal Richmond been accused?”

Willmott ducked to avoid a branch sticking out over the highway. “He used loaded dice, apparently.”

Cheating was a heinous crime. No wonder the men had been fired up. “What proof does Masterson have?”

“They were playing with Richmond’s dice, and every so often, he tapped them on the table.”

“How is that a problem?”

“It means they’re loaded. You drill out chambers within the dice, fill them with mercury, then plug the holes. Tapping the dice makes the mercury move inside and weighs the dice down to fall the way you want them to.”

Giles discovered that he’d slowed his mount so much that the rest of the troop, despite being on foot, was overtaking him. Willmott pulled his horse to a halt and stared over his shoulder, frowning.

Giving himself a mental shake, Giles returned to the head of the group. “Interesting. I may have fallen foul of such a trick myself—I’ll have to look into it. But not now. We have work to do.”

His horse picked its way around a pothole, and he thanked the gods there was a good moon tonight and light, wispy cloud. It meant that they could see their way and avoid any ambush or sentries the smugglers might have posted. He stroked the polished stock of his pistol. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to use it— it was essential that the ringleader be captured alive, or the reward would be forfeit.

A half hour’s brisk march brought them near the tavern, and he whispered to his companions to leave the road. He and Willmott tethered their mounts, then stole along the grassy droveway that edged the road, muffling their footsteps.

It must be well-nigh one o’clock by now. There shouldn’t be anyone up and about at this hour, but as Giles approached, he saw lights swiftly extinguished. No coincidence, surely?