A Dangerous Pursuit (Regency Spies & Secrets Book 1) by Laura Beers (romantic love story reading TXT) 📕

his arms, Mr. Walker turned to face her with a frown on his face. “Good morning, Miss Dowding,” he responded curtly.

“Whatever is wrong?”

His frown intensified. “There is no easy way to say this.” He paused. “Miss Hardy is missing.”

“Missing?” she gasped as her hand covered her mouth.

“I’m afraid so.”

Madalene walked over to the settee and lowered herself down onto it. “When did this happen?”

Taking a step closer to her, Mr. Walker explained, “Miss Hardy was noticeably absent this morning, and Miss Gaillard took it upon herself to visit the headmistress’ room. When she arrived, she discovered that the room was in disarray, and Miss Hardy was nowhere to be found.”

“Was the constable notified?”

Mr. Walker nodded. “He was, and the constable suspects foul play. He believes the room was ransacked.”

Pursing her lips together, Madalene murmured, “Poor Edith.”

“After the constable left, I came here directly to tell you the horrific news,” Mr. Walker said, his voice saddened. “I wanted you to be the first to know.”

“I appreciate that.”

“With your permission, I would like to hire a Bow Street Runner to run a parallel investigation into Miss Hardy’s disappearance.”

“Please do,” Madalene remarked firmly. “What else can we do?”

Mr. Walker gave her a sad smile. “Frankly, I am not sure there is anything else we can do. The constable will do his due diligence and investigate this case, but his workload is great. Hence the need for a Bow Street Runner.”

“How soon do you think it will take before the Bow Street Runner will take the case?”

“Hopefully, straight away, but there is a chance it might take a few days before they truly start investigating,” Mr. Walker replied.

“That won’t do,” Madalene mused. “Has anyone spoken to her family yet?”

“I hadn’t realized that Miss Hardy had any family,” Mr. Walker said, giving her an odd look.

Madalene nodded. “She isn’t entirely forthcoming about them.”

“Do you know where they are residing?” Mr. Walker asked. “I would be happy to notify them myself.”

“I do,” Madalene replied, wincing. “But I daresay Miss Hardy would be furious if I revealed where they are living.”

Mr. Walker lifted his brow in disbelief. “Miss Hardy is missing. Why would it matter if anyone discovered where her family is residing?”

“I can’t explain the reasons without betraying her trust,” Madalene explained.

Mr. Walker wiped his hand over his mouth, the disapproval evident on his features. “A woman’s life is at risk, Miss Dowding. I am surprised that you would do something to hamper the investigation.”

“Perhaps I could go speak to Mrs. Hardy and her daughter and ask them to seek out the constable directly,” Madalene suggested.

Frowning, Mr. Walker said, “That seems like rather a foolhardy thing to do.”

“I disagree,” Madalene replied, coming to her decision. “I shall go speak to them immediately.” She rose from the settee.

“With all due respect, Miss, I believe we should let the constable and Bow Street Runner handle this case,” Mr. Walker stated.

“If nothing comes from seeking out Mrs. Hardy, then I will notify you at once of their location,” she said, her voice firm.

“As you wish, Miss Dowding.” He bowed. “I will be awaiting word from you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Walker.”

After her solicitor had departed from the room, she walked out into the entry hall and saw Graham standing next to the staircase.

“Has Mrs. Foster already left to do her shopping?” Madalene inquired.

“Yes, Miss,” Graham confirmed.

Drat! It was evident that she was going to have to do this errand by herself.

“I have an errand to run,” Madalene explained, “will you ensure the coach is brought around to the front?”

Graham bobbed his head. “As you wish.”

Madalene glanced down at her gown. Fortunately, this gown was perfect for her errand. It would garner much less attention than her afternoon gowns. Now she just had to have her lady’s maid fix her hair.

Her plan was simple. Go to Floyd’s Coffeehouse and speak to Mrs. Hardy about her daughter’s disappearance. With any luck, Edith would be with them and this whole mess would be sorted out.

The sun may have been high in the sky outside, but the inside of Floyd’s Coffeehouse was dimly lit by sconces fastened to the wall. Baldwin sat with his back against the wall and watched as the patrons flocked in and out of the establishment. Some were dressed in raggedy coats and others in the finest clothing, but they were all seated at the same round tables. Despite this, he knew it wouldn’t be long before he rooted out the radicals. That, he was sure of.

Coffeehouse conversation always seemed to conform to a specific manner. Politeness was essential to the conduct of debate and conversation, thus hoping to keep out the undesirables. If people did not conform to the unwritten rules, then they would be asked to leave, never to return again.

Most of the conversations centered around fashion and politics, and he had yet to hear anything that was suspect or traitorous.

An older woman with faded red hair sashayed up to him with an empty tray in her hands. “Can I get ye anything to eat, love?”

Baldwin smiled politely at the woman, never knowing when she might become useful to his investigation. “No, thank you. But could I get another cup of coffee?”

“This is yer third cup,” the woman said, leaning closer to him. “Ye must really be enjoying our coffee.”

“It is true,” he said as he picked up his cup and extended it towards her.

“We also serve food, and it is nearly midday.”

“Perhaps after my next cup I will order something to eat.”

The woman glanced at the empty chairs next to him. “Are ye expecting someone?”

“I am not.”

Glancing over at the next table when they burst into laughter, she asked, “Why not join their lively conversation, then?”

“I prefer to be alone.” He reached into his pocket and removed a few coins. “Will you ensure that no one is seated next to me?” he asked as he extended her the coins.

The woman looked down at the coins and her eyes grew wide. “Yes, Mister.”

“Thank you,” he said. “What