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

what to say. He could lie, but he found he didn’t want to. He was tired of keeping secrets, and he wanted to let Miss Dowding in.

“Marie told me,” she whispered. “I hope this means you won’t have to kill me now.”

His lips twitched in amusement. “No, but it means we will need to have a serious talk later.”

“I shall be looking forward to it.”

Baldwin offered his arm and assisted her into the hackney. “I don’t know when I shall see you next, but I’ll be counting the moments until I do.”

“I understand.”

He closed the door and watched the hackney drive away until it turned a corner. Then, he turned back towards the wagon, knowing what needed to be done.

It was time to get back to work.

Chapter Eighteen

Baldwin adjusted his white cravat as the coach jostled back and forth. “Let’s get this blasted meeting over with,” he muttered.

Corbyn chuckled. “I take it that you are not a fan of Lord Desmond.”

“No, I am not,” Baldwin replied. “Desmond used to take swipes at my father when he was still alive, and I find him to be rather insufferable.”

“Then I would imagine you should be looking forward to this meeting.”

Baldwin shook his head. “I do not delight in the misfortune of others.”

“That is an interesting remark from a spy,” Corbyn observed.

Glancing out the darkened window, Baldwin remarked, “I work as an agent to keep England safe from domestic and foreign threats.”

“After this meeting, you will officially be retired as an agent of the Crown,” Corbyn said. “How does that make you feel?”

The image of Miss Dowding came into his mind, and he smiled. “I believe life as a civilian will suit me very nicely.”

“You are thinking of Miss Dowding, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he replied, unabashed.

Corbyn bobbed his head. “She is a strong woman. I heard that she hired a hackney to take her to the Blue Boar to try and stop Marie.”

Baldwin chuckled. “I must admit that she was the last person I expected to see in Fieldstone Square.”

“I can’t imagine you had any complaints,” Corbyn remarked knowingly.

“I did not, but it did make explaining my presence a little more troublesome to the constables.”

Reaching into his waistcoat pocket, he removed the letter from the Prince Regent and extended it towards Corbyn. “I won’t be needing this letter anymore.”

“Keep it,” Corbyn said. “You never know when you might need it again.”

Baldwin returned the letter to his pocket. “Should the need ever arise, you can count on me to defend England’s interests.”

Corbyn smirked. “I think you might be too busy entertaining a new wife.”

“That is assuming I can convince Miss Dowding to marry me.”

“You will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Corbyn’s eyes grew reflective, as if recalling a painful memory. “Eyes don’t lie, and Miss Dowding’s eyes light up every time she sees you.”

“That pleases me immensely to hear.”

“Frankly, it is almost sickening,” Corbyn joked.

Baldwin chuckled before growing serious. “I want to thank you for taking that shot in Fieldstone Square.”

“I only did what needed to be done.”

“If you hadn’t shot Marie, I most assuredly would have.”

Corbyn nodded. “I know, but I was worried that if you discharged your pistol so close to the bomb, it would ignite.”

“As was I, but it was a risk that I was prepared to take.”

“Well, I wasn’t prepared to lose one of my best agents,” Corbyn remarked.

“That was rather a nice thing of you to say,” Baldwin said with a smug smile, “especially since you’re losing me to retirement anyway.”

Corbyn huffed. “Don’t get used to it.”

“That was quite the impressive shot,” Baldwin remarked. “If you had missed—”

Corbyn spoke over him. “I don’t miss,” he said firmly. “Years of training with the Ninety-fifth Rifle Regiment ensured that. Besides, it was only a hundred-yard shot. I can shoot nearly twice that length with my Baker rifle.”

“How did you know to position yourself in that building?”

With a frown, Corbyn admitted, “It was a gamble. I knew you would try to avoid the crowds at all costs, but I hadn’t expected to see Marie next to you on the bench.”

Realization dawned on him, and Baldwin said, “You were there to shoot me.”

“Only if things turned out poorly and I had no other choice,” Corbyn replied. “If it was between you and saving hundreds of innocent people, I would have taken the shot.”

“You always were one to have a backup plan.”

Corbyn eyed him curiously. “You aren’t angry?”

“No,” Baldwin responded. “I would have done the same thing, given the circumstances.”

The coach came to a stop in front of a white, three-level townhouse with an iron fence surrounding the front.

They exited the coach and approached the main door. After they knocked, they each retrieved their calling cards.

The door was opened, and a tall, middle-aged butler greeted them. “Good evening,” he said. “May I help you?”

Baldwin extended his calling card. “We would like to speak to Lord Desmond.”

“I will see if he is available for callers,” the butler responded.

“I am afraid we must insist,” Corbyn asserted as he handed his calling card to the butler.

The butler tipped his head in acknowledgement before he opened the door wide and ushered them in. “Please wait in the entry hall while I go speak to Lord Desmond.”

After the butler walked off, Baldwin glanced around the entry hall, admiring the collection of art on display over the pale green papered walls.

The sound of the butler’s heels on the tile drew back his attention.

“Lord Desmond will see you,” the butler revealed, coming to a stop in front of them. “If you will follow me to his study.”

They followed the butler down a narrow hall towards the rear of the townhouse. The butler stopped at an open door and gestured that they should enter.

Baldwin stepped into the room first and heard the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Wood paneling dominated the walls, making the room very masculine.

Lord Desmond rose from his chair with a drink in his hand. “To what do I owe this great pleasure,