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

a man before, and she found it rather unnerving.

To her great relief, Lord Hawthorne stepped back and offered his arm to her. “Allow me to escort you to your coach,” he said. “I assume it is out front.”

“It is,” she replied as she placed her hand on his sleeve.

As Lord Hawthorne led her towards the doors, he remarked, “I should note that the longer your friend is missing, the less likely it is that we will be able to find her.”

“I assumed as much.”

“And there is a good chance that she is already dead.”

Madalene gasped. “You don’t truly believe that, do you?”

Keeping his gaze straight ahead, he replied, “I do.”

“I truly hope that isn’t the case.”

Lord Hawthorne opened the door and stepped to the side to allow her to go first. “I will come by tomorrow to discuss the particulars.”

“I shall be looking forward to it.”

They exited the main door, and Lord Hawthorne walked her to the coach. He opened the door and put his hand out for her.

Madalene accepted his assistance and stepped inside. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Lord Hawthorne didn’t close the door right away. Instead, he said, “I don’t want you to get your hopes up. No good will come from that.”

“I understand, but I still have hope that Edith will be returned unharmed.”

“Do you not understand what I am saying to you?”

Madalene smiled ruefully. “I do, but I choose to ignore half of what you say.”

Lord Hawthorne didn’t smile as she had intended, but rather his eyes sparked with annoyance. “Go home, Miss Dowding,” he ordered before closing the coach door.

She found herself watching Lord Hawthorne re-enter the building as the coach pulled away from the pavement. What a perplexing man, she thought. She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d accepted his help, but there was something about him that made her feel safe. And it was that something that compelled her to trust him.

Chapter Six

Baldwin rubbed his tired eyes as he rode in his coach to the House of Lords. He had spent nearly the entire night before at the Queen’s Gambling Hall, and he was exhausted. He had identified a few schoolboys that were quite vocal about their radical beliefs, but they were just deep into their cups. He doubted any of them had any real conviction.

Bringing him back to no leads. Sadly, he was no closer to identifying the radical group than he had been when he first started looking.

He intended to go back to Floyd’s Coffeehouse tonight and watch for the group of men the serving woman had informed him about. Perhaps that would yield a clue.

Baldwin clenched his fists as his thoughts turned to Miss Dowding. Why had he agreed to help her find her friend? Don’t I already have enough to worry about at the moment, he thought. But when she had revealed her plight, he found his heart softening towards her, which was so unlike him. Emotions were burdens that needed to be suppressed at all costs. They could get a man killed.

The coach came to a stop in front of Westminster. He exited the coach and entered the building by way of two large wooden doors. As he stepped into the White Hall, he could feel everyone’s eyes on him, but he didn’t let it affect him.

Baldwin walked over to where the Tories were gathered and sat down in the back row.

His friend, Lord Brinton, approached him with an obnoxious smile on his face. “As I live and breathe, is that Lord Hawthorne, gracing us with his presence from on high?” he greeted.

“What is it that you want?”

Lord Brinton sat down on the seat next to him. “I am relieved that I finally have a friend in Parliament,” he said.

Baldwin gave him a skeptical look. “You didn’t have one before?”

“No,” Lord Brinton replied. “For some reason, people find me too charming.”

With a shake of his head, Baldwin remarked in an amused tone, “I see that you have not changed, Percy.”

Percy turned in his seat to face him, lowering his voice. “May I ask where you have been these past three years?”

“Here and there,” Baldwin replied. “But mostly I spent my time at our Scottish estate.”

“I see,” Percy said. “The last time I saw you was at your father’s funeral.”

“I believe it was.”

Shifting in his seat, Percy faced the center of the room. “You are in luck, because Lord Desmond will have the floor today and will be arguing for his new bill.”

“How is it being received?”

“Very well,” Percy replied, “at least by the Whigs.”

“Not the Tories?”

Percy shrugged. “He has some votes amongst us, but not many.”

“Do you think it will pass?”

“Who can say?” Percy replied. “But there is always a chance.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because Lord Desmond is rallying the people behind it,” Percy explained.

“Are you for the bill?”

Percy shook his head. “Heavens, no,” he said. “I believe we are in need of more workhouses, but I don’t believe the Home Office should oversee them. It is the parishes’ job to administer to the needs of the poor.”

Baldwin frowned as he saw the thickset Lord Desmond walk into the room with a satchel over his right shoulder and take a seat in the front row on the opposite side of the room. His long, bushy sideburns drew attention to the sagging skin under his neck.

“I hate Whigs,” Baldwin muttered.

“What do you hate about them in particular?” Percy asked. “Could it be that they believe the power belongs to the voice of the people or that they want to reform the monarchy?”

“Precisely, they are a bunch of radical fools,” Baldwin responded.

“I would agree with you. England could not survive without a monarchy.”

“I should say not,” Baldwin agreed. “If I wanted to live in anarchy, then I would move to the American colonies.”

Percy chuckled. “That is terrible of you to say.”

“America isn’t satisfied with what it has, hence the reason we are currently engaged in a skirmish with them.”

“That is because they foolishly thought we would let