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

“I am so sorry,” he said, knowing his words were wholly inadequate.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and Miss Dowding reached up to swipe it away. “I stayed with her the entire evening, and even after she was gone. What my mother did was incredibly selfish and…” Her words trailed off as it turned into a sob. “I just wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”

Baldwin had an overwhelming desire to pull Miss Dowding into his arms, but he knew it was not the place to do so. He didn’t dare put her into a compromising position, no matter how much he wished to console her.

“Why haven’t you told Mrs. Foster the truth about your mother?” he prodded.

“I don’t want anyone to think less of her.”

Baldwin looked at her incredulously. “Instead you shouldered this burden alone?”

She nodded slowly. “I thought I was strong enough.”

“My dear,” he started, “there is no shame in asking for help.”

“If anyone discovers the truth, then my mother’s legacy will be tarnished,” Miss Dowding declared. “And I’m not willing to risk that.”

“Then I shall keep your secret.”

Miss Dowding offered him a timid smile. “Thank you, my lord. I must admit I find some relief in confiding my secret to you.”

“I had no idea that you were carrying such a heavy burden,” he admitted. “You hide it remarkably well.”

“I believe everyone hides a part of themselves from others.”

Baldwin heard the music start back up again. Rising from the bench, he said, “I should return you to the ball.”

“Must you?” she asked as she rose.

He chuckled. “Do not tempt me. I would much rather stay out in the gardens with you than be in that stuffy ballroom. But I believe Mr. Thatcher, kind as he was to allow me the set, would still like to dance with you.”

As they started walking along the footpath, Miss Dowding remarked, “I have noticed that you have sat many of the sets out.”

Baldwin lifted his brow. “Have you been watching me, Miss Dowding?”

“I have not,” she asserted as an adorable blush crept up onto her cheeks.

Taking pity on her, he replied, “Frankly, I detest dancing.”

“That is a shame, my lord, because you are quite good at it,” she said, sparing a glance in his direction.

Baldwin smiled at her remark. “Perhaps all I need is the right dance partner.”

“In my experience, I have found that usually makes all the difference,” Miss Dowding remarked.

Baldwin sat at the head of the table as he read the morning newspaper. He reached for his cup of tea and took a long sip before returning it to the saucer on the table.

Pratt stepped into the room and asked, “May I have a moment of your time, milord?”

“You may,” Baldwin replied as he lowered the paper.

The butler gestured towards the door and a familiar lanky man walked into the parlor, his eyes darting nervously around the room. He was wearing a tattered brown jacket and matching trousers and his dark hair was slicked to the side.

“You may remember Mr. John Harvey,” Pratt said. “He shared that you two met briefly in the rookeries.”

Baldwin tipped his head in acknowledgement. “That we did.”

“We have hired John on as a gardener, and we reimbursed his travel expenses as you ordered,” Pratt revealed.

“That is wonderful news.” Baldwin turned his attention towards Mr. Harvey. “How have you settled in at Hawthorne House?”

“Very well, milord,” Mr. Harvey replied. “And I wanted to humbly thank ye for this opportunity. It will go a long way to feed my family.”

“I am pleased to hear that.”

Mr. Harvey’s eyes darted towards Pratt before saying, “I would like to apologize for attempting to rob ye.”

“A man will do just about anything to care for his family,” Baldwin stated.

“Aye, milord.”

Baldwin gave him a pointed look. “However, I would strongly encourage you not to squander this opportunity by doing something so foolhardy again.”

“I will not,” Mr. Harvey asserted.

“I am pleased to hear that,” Baldwin said.

Pratt spoke up. “If you will excuse us, John is set to meet with the head gardener to begin work for the day.”

Baldwin watched as they departed from the room before he brought the newspaper back up. He had just finished reading an article when his sister walked into the room.

“Good morning,” Jane greeted.

Baldwin lowered the paper. “Good morning.”

Jane stepped over to the buffet table and piled a plate high with food. “I thought I would eat breakfast with you this morning.”

“Wonderful,” he said as he brought the paper back up.

Coming to sit to his right, Jane asked, “Is there anything interesting in the morning newspaper?”

“Not particularly,” he admitted. “It was announced that Lord Desmond is having a rally to garner support for his bill.”

“Are you in support of the bill?” Jane inquired.

“I am not,” he responded. “I am in support of workhouses in the rookeries, but I do not believe the Home Office should take over the responsibilities of overseeing them.”

Jane placed her napkin onto her lap. “Then how do you suggest they be funded?”

“As they always have,” Baldwin replied. “By the parishes that they are located in.”

“But the parishes are unable to handle the growing number of poor people living in their borders.”

“That may be true, but they can also join together to form unions to share the costs associated with the workhouses.”

Jane nodded. “Those are known as Gilbert Unions. Thus, by creating large groups they are in a position to establish larger workhouses. Sadly, this was not implemented very well.”

Baldwin looked at her in surprise. “You are remarkably well informed.”

“I don’t know why you seem so surprised,” Jane remarked as she reached for her fork. “I read the newspaper nearly every morning.”

“I hadn’t realized you would be interested in reading the morning newspaper.”

“And why not?” she asked.

Baldwin folded the paper and placed it on the table. “My apologies,” he said. “I think it is commendable that you read the newspaper.”

“Thank you,” Jane replied as a footman placed a cup of chocolate in front of her. “I couldn’t help but notice