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

she tried to quell her suddenly raging emotions. She let out a shaky breath before saying, “It has only been six months since my mother died, but I can still remember watching her take her last breath. Her breathing started to become more labored, and then it… stopped.” She blinked back her tears. “And just like that, my mother was gone.”

“You do understand, then,” Lord Hawthorne remarked compassionately.

She offered him a sad smile. “I do, and I hope to never watch another person pass away. It was nearly too much for me to handle.”

“Life is fragile, and people can die within a blink of an eye.”

Boldly, she asked, “How is it that you are so acquainted with death?”

Lord Hawthorne looked off into the distance. “I have done some terrible things in my life, things that I don’t dare to ever admit out loud,” he admitted.

“Surely they can’t be that bad.”

Bringing his gaze back to meet hers, Lord Hawthorne spoke firmly. “I assure you that they are. Frankly, you should fear me.”

“Do you want me to fear you?” she asked, cocking her head.

Lord Hawthorne stared at her for a moment. “No, I find that I don’t want you to.”

“That is good, because I don’t.”

“That is because you are foolish and naïve.”

Madalene sighed dramatically. “We are back to name calling, I see,” she teased. “I thought we had grown past that.”

Lord Hawthorne’s lips twitched as he extended the muff pistol towards her. “I have taken the liberty of loading the pistol, so I urge you to use caution when handling it.”

Accepting the gun, Madalene ran her hand over the metal frame as she adjusted to the weight in her hand. “It is heavier than I imagined.”

“You will soon become accustomed to its weight,” Lord Hawthorne said. “Furthermore, the recoil is minimal.”

Madalene held the pistol down at her side. “When do you plan to abduct me?”

“Would tomorrow be acceptable?”

“I suppose I could move some things around,” she joked.

Lord Hawthorne chuckled. “I will call on you tomorrow under the ruse of taking you on a carriage ride through Hyde Park.”

“I must admit that being abducted sounds much more appealing than a carriage ride.”

“I find that your responses intrigue me,” Lord Hawthorne said as he stepped back. “I never seem to know what you will say next.”

Unsure of how to reply to his remark, Madalene remained quiet.

Lord Hawthorne broke the silence, gesturing towards the gun in her hand. “Allow me to show you how to use the pistol now.”

“Thank you,” she said, gladly accepting the turn of the conversation.

Baldwin sat in the coach as it traveled on the busy streets to the House of Lords. He had just left Miss Dowding’s townhouse, and he found that he had lingered for far too long with her. There was just something about her that gave him pause.

She had a vulnerable quality about her that seemed to mask a strength even she didn’t know existed. He had no doubt that she was clever, but she always said the most outlandish things. Furthermore, she believed in hope, which was ridiculous. Hope isn’t a tangible thing, he thought. Miss Dowding couldn’t possibly understand the torment that he endured every single day. No. No one could. He was battling his demons on his own, and he was failing. Miserably.

The coach came to a stop on the street, and Baldwin glanced out the window. Street urchins were running through the traffic, without any heed to the dangers surrounding them.

Unexpectedly, the door to the coach opened and Corbyn stepped in. “Good,” he said as he came to sit across from him. “I see that you are alone.”

“Did you need a ride?”

Corbyn shook his head. “I was meeting with my informant and saw your coach passing by. I thought it was a good time to speak to you about your plan with Miss Dowding.”

“I spoke with Miss Dowding today.”

“And she is still allowing you to abduct her?”

Baldwin nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “As a precaution, I gave her a muff pistol to carry on her person.”

“Oh, good,” Corbyn remarked dryly. “Another woman is walking around the streets of London with a muff pistol.”

Ignoring his friend’s snide comment, Baldwin continued. “Have you spoken to the Bow Street magistrate?”

“I have.”

“And?”

“I informed him of the location of the missing girls, and the Runners intend to raid the Flailing Duck tomorrow at two.”

“That should give us enough time.”

“I hope so, because I don’t want to have to bail you out of prison.”

Baldwin huffed. “Why do you assume I will get caught?”

“Call it a hunch,” Corbyn joked.

“If I can hide in plain sight under the French’s noses, I can escape from a pub,” Baldwin asserted.

“We shall see,” Corbyn replied. “The magistrate also assured me that the girls’ names will not be in the paper. They will just announce that the missing girls have been found and freed.”

“Excellent.”

“I just hope you know what you are doing. I don’t like involving innocent civilians in covert operations.”

The coach lurched forward as Baldwin said, “I just need to convince Morton that I didn’t tip off the Runners.”

“Have you figured out a way to accomplish that feat?”

“No, but it will come to me.”

Corbyn stared at him. “Sometimes your arrogance astounds me.”

“Thank you.”

“This plan of yours better work,” Corbyn warned. “If not, I will have no choice but to personally round up all these rebels and put them in jail.”

“If my plan doesn’t work, then I will help you round up the rebels myself.”

Corbyn placed his hand on the door handle. “I shall hold you to that,” he said as the coach began to slow down. “This is where I shall leave you.” He opened the door, stepped down and closed it behind him.

Baldwin sat back in his seat and enjoyed the rest of the trip to the House of Lords in silence. The coach came to a stop, and he waited for the footman to put the step down and open the door. As he stepped down, he heard Lord Desmond calling to