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

The room grew quiet as the Lord Chancellor said a few words of introduction. Then, he turned the floor over to Lord Desmond.

Lord Desmond rose from his seat and walked over to a table positioned in the center of the room. The silence was deafening as he picked up a stack of papers and shuffled them. He placed them back down and turned to address the side of the room where the Tories were sitting.

“As we sit in our grand townhouses, men, women, and children are dying on the streets,” Lord Desmond stated, his voice echoing off the dome-shaped roof. “Honest, hardworking men can’t find work, or they are turned away because of a war injury. These men want to feed their families, to make an honest wage, but they can’t. No one will let them.”

Lord Desmond started pacing the center of the room. “You may have heard, but there is a food shortage, as well. The war with France has taken a toll on Society, but who is going to speak for the poor, the needy, the half-starved?”

“Hear, hear,” a man shouted.

Turning towards the Whigs, Lord Desmond continued. “We cannot stand by and let our own people perish in the streets. We must help them!” He placed his hands on the lapels of his blue jacket. “Our job is to speak for the people.”

“Oh, botheration,” Percy muttered under his breath.

“We need more workhouses in the rookeries,” Lord Desmond declared. “We need to make them accessible to the poor. The parishes cannot handle the influx of the poor and the needy. It is time for us to make a stand and help them.”

Lord Frampton jumped up from his seat near Baldwin and declared, “No one is disputing that we need more workhouses, but we take issue with how you intend to pay for it.”

“I am glad you brought that up.” Lord Desmond walked over to the table and grabbed the stack of papers. “The Home Office has one of the largest budgets of any of the government departments. One of its purposes is to safeguard the rights and liberties of individuals. I believe that the poor fall under this category. With nearly nineteen hundred workhouses in England alone, how are we ensuring the poor are being treated with civility?

“We aren’t!” Lord Desmond declared, responding to his own question. “Some workhouses are clean and comfortable havens to the poor, but others are dark and foreboding places. Many people are contracting terrible diseases and are being buried in unmarked mass pauper graves.” He shook his head. “When a parish does open in the rookeries, it is met with serious rioting because it has been discovered that the death rate for workhouse children under the age of five is over ninety percent. Ninety percent!”

Lord Desmond frowned. “Some people are so reluctant to enter a workhouse or plead for relief that they resort to begging or prostitution. I am sure that everyone in this room has witnessed these terrible and sinful practices as you walk around the streets of London.”

Turning towards the front of the room, Lord Desmond said, “In 1722, legislation passed that entitled parishes to provide poor relief and specifically referenced the building of workhouses. But I say that we need to update our laws and protect our people, especially the ones who can’t stand up for themselves.”

Baldwin watched as some of the Tories nodded their heads in agreement, and he knew that Lord Desmond was starting to sway some of them.

Rising, Baldwin asked in a loud voice, “How do you intend for the Home Office to fund this new agency to oversee the workhouses?”

Lord Desmond looked at him in disbelief. “Lord Hawthorne,” he said. “I hadn’t realized you had returned from your travels.”

“Yes, I arrived a few days ago.”

With a polite smile, Lord Desmond greeted, “Welcome home.”

“Thank you, but you still haven’t answered my question.”

The smile dropped from Lord Desmond’s face as he asked, “Have you had a chance to read the bill?”

“I have not had the privilege yet.”

“Well, I can assure you that the Home Office wouldn’t have an issue budget-wise with the creation of a new agency within their department,” Lord Desmond said as he moved to address another question.

Baldwin wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “They would have to reallocate funds from other functioning agencies to pay for this new agency,” he pressed.

“Yes, they would.”

“And you believe these other agencies deserve to have their funding cut?”

Lord Desmond put his hands out wide. “In case you haven’t heard, England is not at war with France anymore. We won!”

“I am well aware of that, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have any more enemies just waiting to pounce.”

“And who would that be?” Lord Desmond scoffed. “I hope you don’t intend to say those pesky Americans.” He chuckled.

“We have other threats.”

Lord Desmond lifted his brow. “And you would know that how, Lord Hawthorne?”

“One can hardly read the morning newspaper and not get the sense that England is not as beloved by other nations as we want to believe,” Baldwin stated. “We can’t leave England unprotected from domestic or foreign threats.”

“I am not proposing cutting our military funding,” Lord Desmond argued. “Although, I do believe there is some waste in there, as well.”

“I am not surprised you would think that,” Baldwin huffed.

Lord Desmond eyed him critically. “You seem remarkably informed about the state of world affairs for a man who has isolated himself for the past three years.”

Ignoring his snide remark, Baldwin said, “That doesn’t mean I haven’t stayed abreast on the issues.”

“Then you would know that the war greatly affected our economy, our food supply, and created an unprecedented level of unemployment.”

“I do.”

“What do you propose that we do, Lord Hawthorne?” Lord Desmond asked scornfully. “After all, I would imagine that you don’t have any problem acquiring food for yourself and your family.”

Baldwin smirked. “It would appear from the looks of you that you don’t have that problem either, Lord Desmond.”

Lord Desmond slammed the papers back down