The old innkeeper looked suspiciously at the lovely form of Ms. Madison, as the blonde preened in the mirror by the stairs, then back at Lady Sylvia.
"I'm sorry, Miss," he shook his head, "I don't know anything about the couple you asked about. They paid in advance and left no forwarding address. They didn't seem local..."
"And do I seem local?" Lady Sylvia leaned over the front desk."
"You're Lord Ambrose Vaughan's sister," the innkeeper smiled. "I suppose you are, Miss. Your friend is from London, isn't she?"
"Okay," Lady Sylvia shrugged. "So you do know. Can I take a look at their room?"
"You're Lord Ambrose's sister," the Innkeeper bowed to her. "He owns the freehold of this place, so I suppose I can let you do that. Is your friend coming too?"
"Of course," Ms. Madison smiled, hand going into her bag. Lady Sylvia knew she had just put her hand on her gun.
When a bullet shot overhead, shattering the mirror, the young aristocrat understood why she had been looking so intently in the mirror.