With a gasp, Ezra swayed on his feet. "Sir, I am loyal. My sole desire is to destroy the rebels. I have long craved the honor of joining you and your men so I could prove myself - "
"Enough," Tarleton cut him off, slashing a hand through the air. "Did you think no one would notice what you did to the last supply shipment?"
"The supplies? Sir, they passed through here safely."
"Oh, they arrived, all right, but the barrels of gunpowder were filled with ashes! And the sacks that were supposed to be potatoes and corn were full of rocks and pine cones!"
Ezra gaped. "I . . . I don't understand."
"Cornwallis is livid. He ordered a full investigation."
"It . . . it must have happened in Charles Town."
"No. When the shipment left, it was in order. This was the only place the supplies docked on the way."
Ezra gulped. "But I had five guards out there all night."
"Did you inspect the supplies yourself?"
"No. I - I never touched them. I thought it best not to tamper with them." Bile rose in Ezra's throat. He could end up swinging from a tree over this.
"There is evidence the barrels were pried open." Tarleton stepped closer 'til he was inches from Ezra's face. "There is something rotten going on between Charles Town and Camden, and I believe the stench starts here. We will hold you responsible."
"I will investigate the matter thoroughly. It will never happen again. You have my word."
"Would that be the word of a Loyalist or a traitor?" Tarleton stepped back. "I'll be watching you, Hickman." He swiveled on his booted heel and marched from the room.
Ezra strode to the sideboard to pour a glass of brandy. His hand shook so badly, he splashed brandy all over the embroidered doily.
"Damnation!" He clunked the decanter down. Someone had played a trick on him, and if he didn't figure out who the bastard was, he would pay the price himself. It had to be some sort of partisan plot. Were the ladies here in on it?
He paced across the room. Those damned women. He'd get the truth out of them one way or another.
He paused in mid-stride. Did he even need to know the truth, as long as he found someone to blame? Anyone would do, as long as it saved his neck.
Jane Thomas probably knew what had happened. Hell, her son might be behind it. If only this Matthias Murray Thomas could be found, he could take the blame.
Yes, this Thomas fellow was the answer to all his problems. Ezra strode to the sideboard and poured himself a drink, relieved to be once more in control. "Pugsley!"
"Yes, sir." The guard scurried into the room. "Tarleton is gone, sir. They didn't stay very long."
"I know. Gather the women in the front parlor at once. I wish to speak to them."
"Yes, sir!" Pugsley raced off.
Ezra sat at his desk, enjoying his brandy. He'd let the women wait 'til they were as flustered as a pack of hens with a fox invading the henhouse. They'd be so nervous, one of them would be sure to squawk.
He had finished his brandy by the time Pugsley returned. "They're all there, sir, waiting in the parlor."
"Good." Ezra straightened his cravat, then strode into the parlor with Pugsley close behind.
The pregnant woman sat on the rose-colored settee, flanked by her children. The servant, Betsy, stood behind them. Mrs. Thomas sat in a Windsor chair, her face drawn and ashen. Next to her, Miss Munro occupied another chair. She narrowed her green eyes and glared at him.
Ezra returned her hard look. No doubt she was a Colonial sympathizer. It would be a shame to hang her by that pretty neck. He skimmed his eyes over her, assessing her worth. No, she was worth keeping alive. His groin tightened at the thought of Miss Munro with her fiery red hair and patriotic passion struggling with him in bed.
A trill of high notes brought his attention to the harpsichord. Agatha Ludlow, seated at the instrument, gave him an encouraging smile. He bowed his head. At least he could be sure of Agatha. She wanted dearly to please, and please him she did every night.
He pivoted suddenly and paced toward Mrs. Thomas. "This is your last chance. Tell me the location of your son, Matthias Murray Thomas."
She raised her chin. "I can honestly tell you, I do not know."
"Don't expect help from your husband. The traitorous bastard is dead."