A Dangerous Pursuit (Regency Spies & Secrets Book 1) - Laura Beers (macos ebook reader .TXT) 📗

chest. “The gist of it was that the tenant’s daughter had gone missing and Miss Dowding had come to inquire about her whereabouts.”

“Was she successful?”

“No, but Miss Dowding did mention a constable and a Bow Street Runner were on the case.”

“Bah,” Corbyn huffed. “Both of them are useless. You might as well have a half-witted child look for the girl then.”

“Not all Runners are terrible.”

“Yes, they are,” Corbyn protested. “There is a reason we don’t consult with them when we work on our cases domestically.”

Baldwin shook his head. “Regardless, Miss Dowding was foolish enough to come unaccompanied to the coffeehouse to inform the mother.”

“I would agree with you there.” Corbyn hesitated for a moment before asking, “When did this girl go missing?”

“I don’t rightly know, but I would assume it was rather recent.”

Corbyn had a thoughtful expression on his face. “I can’t help but wonder if this girl has been abducted along with the rest of the missing girls.”

Baldwin uncrossed his arms and asked, “What missing girls?”

“About a week ago, a slew of girls went missing from the disreputable part of Town,” Corbyn explained. “It made the news because one of the girls was the sister of the man who wrote the article in the morning newspaper.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time that women were snatched in those parts of Town.”

“Sadly, it would not be,” Corbyn agreed. “Women go missing from the rookeries all the time. It is a very unsavory thing to think about.”

“Who is on the case?”

Corbyn gave him a pointed look. “Who do you think?” he asked, before answering his own question. “It is those worthless Runners.”

“Why do you distrust the Bow Street Runners so much?”

“I have my reasons.”

Straightening from the windowsill, Baldwin walked over to the drink cart. “Which are?”

Corbyn stiffened. “They are mine, and mine alone.”

“Secrets, I see.”

“We both have them.”

Baldwin placed his glass down onto the cart before he picked up the decanter. Then, he topped off his drink and poured another. “No truer words have ever been said.” He picked the glasses up and walked one over to Corbyn. “May we get back to Miss Dowding now?”

Corbyn accepted the glass and took a sip. “Go on,” he encouraged.

“Earlier this morning, Miss Dowding showed up here unexpectedly and began to snoop through my townhouse.”

“She did?”

Baldwin nodded. “At least, that’s what I thought she was doing.”

“What did you do?”

After taking a sip, Baldwin placed the glass on the desk. “I confronted her and demanded to know why she was in my townhouse.”

“What did she say?” Corbyn asked.

“She didn’t say, but rather, insulted me.”

Corbyn lifted his brow. “She insulted you?” he repeated back slowly.

“Yes, repeatedly.”

“I like this girl,” Corbyn said with a smile.

“You wouldn’t if you met her,” Baldwin declared. “She is argumentative and refuses to answer even the most basic questions. It is maddening.”

Corbyn studied him, then asked, “Is she beautiful?”

“She is,” he admitted, seeing no reason to deny it, “but that is beside the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

Baldwin glanced over at the open door and lowered his voice. “Miss Dowding is a friend of Jane’s from boarding school, but I can’t help but wonder if she has been sent here to spy on me.”

Corbyn was silent for a long moment, his brow furrowing into a frown. “Are you in earnest?”

“I am.”

“I think you are just overthinking this.” Corbyn rose and put his glass on the desk. “After all, what reason would this young woman have to spy on you?”

“Perhaps she learned that I was a spy—”

Corbyn interrupted again. “How?” he asked, his voice matching Baldwin’s in volume. “If that did happen, then we would have an even bigger problem. We would have a mole in the Alien Office.”

Baldwin ran a hand through his hair. “I just can’t seem to get a read on this young woman.”

“If Miss Dowding shows up again, then I think you might be able to make a case against her,” Corbyn remarked. “Until then, and I hate to say this, I believe it was just a coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Baldwin said gruffly.

“Usually, I don’t, either. But in this case, I do.”

Walking around his desk, Baldwin sat down in his chair. “You are probably right,” he agreed.

“You will find that I am generally right,” Corbyn stated, puffing out his chest. “It makes being in charge easier.”

“I see humility is not a requirement to lead.”

Corbyn smirked. “Not in the least,” he replied. “Now, back to the original reason I came to visit you at your modest townhouse.”

“Which is?”

The smile faded from Corbyn’s face. “A tip came in,” he said.

“Is it credible?”

“I vetted it myself,” Corbyn shared. “It would appear that the Queen’s Gambling Hall has been frequented by some radicals lately.”

“How would you know this?”

“Apparently, some of them had become quite inebriated and were kicked out,” Corbyn shared, “but not before they loudly shared their views with the other patrons.”

Leaning forward in his chair, Baldwin asked, “Do you think this is the group we are looking for?”

“Could be.”

Baldwin glanced towards the window and saw that the sun was starting to set. “I will depart immediately.”

“And forgo dinner?” Corbyn tsked.

“I can eat at the gambling hall.”

Corbyn placed his hand on the back of the chair. “That is a shame, especially since I have heard you employ a French cook.”

“We do,” Baldwin confirmed, rising. “My mother saw to that.”

“I would imagine gambling hall fare would pale in comparison to the dinner your French cook will serve.”

Baldwin adjusted his white cravat as he replied, “I would agree.”

Corbyn opened his mouth to respond but closed it when Jane walked into the room. Her expression was hard, but it softened when her eyes landed on Corbyn.

“Lord Evan,” Jane greeted politely. “I hadn’t realized you were here.”

Corbyn bowed. “Lady Jane. You are looking as lovely as ever.”

A barely discernable blush came to Jane’s cheeks as she smiled at Corbyn. Then it disappeared, and her face grew expressionless. It had happened so quickly Baldwin feared he had imagined it.

Jane clasped her hands in front of her