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Whatever was stronger than gads, that was what this was.
Seth closed his eyes and shook himself. But now he needed to set that all aside and clear his brain again—good luck with that—and go pound on the front door. He had to, or else Charlotte would be slipping in the back door without him there to distract Mr. Hatcher.
Seth stepped out of the carriage and shook himself for a second time. The brisk chill in the air and the weight of knowing it was up to him to keep Charlotte safe worked in tandem to shake away the shock of moments ago.
Drawing in one more breath, the cold air pricking him all the way down into his lungs, Seth marched toward the front door of the inn. A low light came from around the edges of the poorly fitted door. If he wasn’t mistaken, there were voices just inside, too. If he didn’t have to wake Mr. Hatcher up, if the man was already up due to other customers, that would serve him well in one way: he would be less likely to be in a sour mood.
It might prove a problem, however. If there were still customers needing to be served, it was more likely the little girl was still up working her fingers to the bone and being watched over by whomever was cooking midnight meals.
Seth lifted a fisted hand. Here was hoping for the best.
He knocked firmly and loudly.
The door opened almost immediately.
“Welcome, sir,” Mr. Hatcher himself motioned Seth inside with his one arm. His other arm was missing just below the shoulder; his sleeve was pinned up in its place.
Judging by Mr. Hatcher’s expression, he didn’t recognize Seth from his one visit several years ago. That, at least, was to their benefit.
“I’d like a hot meal,” Seth said, walking with an upper-class air as he’d learned to do since being knighted and moving to London. “Maybe a room. I haven’t decided yet.”
The man moved away to get Seth food. The moment he returned, Seth convinced Mr. Hatcher to sit with him and discuss the state of the roads by again saying he wasn’t sure if he should stay the night or not.
“You were smart to ask,” Mr. Hatcher said, reclining back in the seat opposite Seth. He waved his one hand around as he spoke. “The roads immediately outside look safe enough, but I just had a couple arrive not more than an hour ago. Came in from the north, they did.” He shook his head sadly. “Said the roads were all muddy and not fit to cross.”
“You think I’d best stay the night, then?” Seth asked, feigning interest in the man’s obvious con.
“I’d not assume to tell one as lofty as yourself what to do,” Mr. Hatcher said. “But you are no doubt right. Staying would be far superior to pushing through the mud. By morning, the roads’ll be clear again.”
Seth pretended to vacillate for several minutes, keeping Mr. Hatcher with him the whole time until a woman with white and gray hair and a stained apron moved up to them.
“Excuse me,” she said softly.
“Can’t you see I’m busy talking to a very honorable gentleman?” Mr. Hatcher barked.
“I’m sorry, sir.” The woman turned to leave, but Mr. Hatcher called after her.
“You’ve gone and interrupted. You might as well tell me what the problem is.”
The woman shuffled back over. “It’s the new girl, sir. I can’t find her anywhere.”
Seth was careful to keep his expression impassive.
“Check behind the barrels, woman. You know she likes to hide back there.”
Her hands fidgeted with the apron. “I did look, sir. She’s not there.”
Mr. Hatcher stood abruptly. “Have to do everything myself, don’t I?”
“Come now,” Seth said, praying he could stall the man a little longer. “Surely you can deal with this later. Tell me about the state of your available rooms.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Mr. Hatcher said with a tip of his head. “She’s our new scullery maid, and I can’t afford to be feeding her if she isn’t doing her work.”
Mr. Hatcher moved toward the back of the room.
Hopefully, that had been enough time. Seth stood as well, moving over to the front door. With any luck, Charlotte and the little girl were already secreted in the carriage.
Seth slipped outside and hurried over to the driver. “Are they back?” he asked in a low whisper.
