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

With disapproval on his features, he asked, “Do you not have the slightest regard for your personal safety?”

“I can box,” Madalene announced proudly.

Lord Hawthorne didn’t appear impressed by her admission. “I doubt that very much.”

“It’s true,” she asserted.

His next words seemed to catch her off guard. “Punch me, then.”

Her lips parted in surprise at his odd request. “I couldn’t possibly punch you, my lord.”

Leaning closer to her, he said, “I give you leave to punch me.”

“But what if I hurt you?”

Lord Hawthorne chuckled. “You couldn’t possibly hurt me,” he remarked smugly.

Tired of his pompous attitude, Madalene reared her fist back and punched him in the face. She felt gratified when she saw him stumbling backwards.

His right hand went to cover his nose and she saw blood on his fingers. “Oh, my lord!” she exclaimed. “I am so incredibly sorry.”

Rushing over to the table, Madalene picked up the handkerchief she had been working on and brought it back to Lord Hawthorne.

“Allow me to retrieve some ice for your nose,” she said.

Rising to his full height, Lord Hawthorne asserted, “That won’t be necessary.”

“But you are bleeding, my lord.”

Dabbing his nose with the handkerchief, he remarked, “No harm done. It was just some blood.”

“Again, I am terribly sorry—” she began.

Lord Hawthorne raised his hand, stilling her words. “I am impressed, Miss Dowding. You have quite a punch.”

“I assure you that I have never drawn blood before.”

“How often do you box?”

“I practice nearly every morning,” she admitted.

He bobbed his head in approval as he lowered the handkerchief in his hand. “I am glad to hear that. No one would expect someone of your stature to hit so proficiently.”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

“I assure you that it was meant as one,” Lord Hawthorne said.

Madalene glanced down at the bloody handkerchief. “Would you care for a clean handkerchief?” she asked.

Lord Hawthorne followed her gaze. “It would appear that I ruined this one.”

“No need to concern yourself with that,” she assured him. “I have many, many more.”

He smiled, but it was quickly replaced by a grimace. “I’m afraid my nose is not ready for me to smile,” he admitted.

“Did I break it?” she asked hesitantly.

Lord Hawthorne brought his hand up to touch his nose. “It doesn’t appear so. But even if you did, it wouldn’t be the first time I have broken my nose.”

Unsure of what to say, she started, “I am truly sorry, and—”

“It was not your fault,” he interrupted. “I was the one who told you to punch me.”

“That may be true, but I shouldn’t have hit you as hard as I did.”

His lips quirked slightly upward in a hint of a smile. “I have a feeling you have been wanting to hit me for quite some time.”

“No, of course not,” she rushed to say.

Leaning closer, his eyes held an amused glimmer. “Liar.”

A giggle escaped her lips, and she brought her hand up to cover her mouth. “Well, perhaps.”

“I assumed as much,” Lord Hawthorne remarked, taking a step back. “If you are not opposed, I shall call on you tomorrow to continue our discussion.”

“I look forward to it.”

Lord Hawthorne tipped his head. “Good day, Miss Dowding.”

“Good day, Lord Hawthorne,” she replied, dropping into a slight curtsy.

He opened his mouth as if he intended to say something, but then he closed it. Finally, he spoke. “Until tomorrow, then.”

Madalene watched as Lord Hawthorne departed from the room, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he had intended to say.

Baldwin lay on the filthy straw mattress as he stared up at the dry rot on the ceiling. It was only a matter of time before the ceiling collapsed, he realized. He truly hoped he wouldn’t still be around when that happened.

Most of the other side of the building had collapsed in on itself, but people were still residing in the rooms, at least the habitable ones. What horrible conditions these people had to live with every day just to survive. He could hear the wail of a little child further down the hall, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had enough to eat for the day.

Perhaps more workhouses would be a good thing, he thought to himself. It would give these people a chance to do more than just make it to another day. But the funding had to come from somewhere else besides the Home Office.

His swollen nose started throbbing and he brought his hand up to gently touch it. A small smile came to his lips at Miss Dowding’s reaction after she hit him. He could hear the slight panic in her voice, as if he would be upset with her. But he wasn’t. In fact, he was impressed by her strength. Every time he thought he had her figured out, she surprised him.

For some inexplicable reason, she believed in him. She took him at his word and didn’t press him for more. What an interesting woman Miss Dowding was turning out to be. Perhaps when this was all over, he would take her on a carriage ride through Hyde Park.

A knock came at the door, breaking him out of his reverie.

“Enter,” he ordered as he sat up on the straw mattress.

The door creaked opened, and Morton stepped into the room. “Evening, Baldwin.”

Rising, Baldwin returned his greeting. “Evening.”

“I have come to speak to you privately,” Morton said. “Do you have a moment?”

Baldwin huffed. “Time is the one thing I have plenty of.”

Morton closed the door and turned back around to face him. “Where is your cousin?” he asked with a side glance at the empty straw mattress.

“Chasing after women.”

“Ah,” Morton said, eyeing him closely. “Did you get into a fight?”

“Nothing that I couldn’t handle.”

Appearing amused, Morton remarked, “I just wanted to say that your story resonated with me, and I can’t help but think you and my father were similar.”

“How so?”

“My father was a criminal, but he was hanged for his crimes.” Morton walked over to the broken window, which was stuffed with rags and paper to keep out the