LITMIR.BIZ

      Griffin’s glance was drawn to the ceiling of the card room by a distinctive thud. He shook his head, permitting himself a moment to wonder what Olivia was about before returning his attention to the play at the table. He’d made it a rule not to join any games in his own establishment. Suspicion of his play would invariably become a factor if he won and his pockets would suffer if he did not. The better course was to oversee the games and make certain they were fairly played. He had no desire for his hell to secure a reputation for supporting cardsharps and their marks.

      It was not quite six months ago that the Allworthy cousins had taken liberties with the cards at this very table and nearly begat an incident with the French ambassador’s son. On that occasion Mr. Restell Gardner had been present to manage the situation and keep it from spilling over into scandal.

      The thought of Gardner set Griffin to wondering what had become of him. He hadn’t seen him for some time, though he supposed that was to be expected given his relatively newly married state. One edge of Griffin’s mouth lifted in a mildly amused smile. It wasn’t as if Gardner could ask his wife to accompany him to the hell. Again.

      Griffin schooled his features as he moved around the table slowly, taking in the hands that he was allowed to see without giving away what he thought of them. When he caught sight of a furtive movement just outside the entrance to the card room, he was careful not to frown and send some signal that had nothing at all to do with the game. He nodded politely to the players and excused himself just as Wick came into view again. The lad was not trying to attract his attention but appeared to be wanting Foster’s eye. The footman was staring straight ahead, unaware of the gyrations that were being employed to garner his notice.

      Bloody hell.

      Griffin stepped into the hallway, snatched Wick by his collar, and carried the boy away from the patrons mingling outside the card room to servants’ stairs at the end of the corridor. The boy did not struggle, but he did keep his hands tightly over his ears as if he expected Griffin to give them a good boxing.

      “Explain,” Griffin said, setting him down.

      Wick, still with his hands over his ears, launched into an explanation that was delivered so hurriedly that Griffin could not follow it. At the conclusion, the lad tried to make a run around him and dash up the stairs. Griffin hauled him back and kept him in place with one hand on each of the boy’s bony shoulders. It was the child’s distress that kept Griffin from launching into a lecture that included all of the reasons why Wick was not permitted to move among the patrons. “Again, if you please. This time with some respect for the cadence of proper speech.”

      On the second telling Griffin caught words like help and Miss Cole and gentleman villain. There was no making sense of it, but at the end Griffin gave Wick his head and let him charge up the stairs.

      Unlike the floor below, this short hall was deserted, and Griffin could hear sounds coming from Olivia Cole’s bedchamber that had been undetectable in the card room.

      And…Oh, dear God above—was that smoke he smelled?

      Wick came upon the door a beat before Griffin and rattled the knob. When the door didn’t open he beat his fists against it. Griffin reached around him and tried the knob himself, calling out for Olivia at the same time. When she didn’t respond, he pounded the heel of his hand against the door.

      “Miss Cole!” Griffin rapped the wood hard. “Miss Cole!” He put a restraining hand on Wick’s efforts. “Find Truss. Tell him to bring the key. Hurry!” Griffin punctuated the order by throwing his shoulder into the door. Except for compression of his own muscle and bone, there was no give. Griffin ignored the pain and rammed it again. The door held and he went back to pounding. “Miss Cole!” Dammit! “Olivia!”