A Dangerous Pursuit (Regency Spies & Secrets Book 1)

by Laura Beers

  “We aren’t!” Lord Desmond declared, responding to his own question. “Some workhouses are clean and comfortable havens to the poor, but others are dark and foreboding places. Many people are contracting terrible diseases and are being buried in unmarked mass pauper graves.” He shook his head. “When a parish does open in the rookeries, it is met with serious rioting because it has been discovered that the death rate for workhouse children under the age of five is over ninety percent. Ninety percent!”

  Lord Desmond frowned. “Some people are so reluctant to enter a workhouse or plead for relief that they resort to begging or prostitution. I am sure that everyone in this room has witnessed these terrible and sinful practices as you walk around the streets of London.”

  Turning towards the front of the room, Lord Desmond said, “In 1722, legislation passed that entitled parishes to provide poor relief and specifically referenced the building of workhouses. But I say that we need to update our laws and protect our people, especially the ones who can’t stand up for themselves.”

  Baldwin watched as some of the Tories nodded their heads in agreement, and he knew that Lord Desmond was starting to sway some of them.

  Rising, Baldwin asked in a loud voice, “How do you intend for the Home Office to fund this new agency to oversee the workhouses?”

  Lord Desmond looked at him in disbelief. “Lord Hawthorne,” he said. “I hadn’t realized you had returned from your travels.”

  “Yes, I arrived a few days ago.”

  With a polite smile, Lord Desmond greeted, “Welcome home.”

  “Thank you, but you still haven’t answered my question.”

  The smile dropped from Lord Desmond’s face as he asked, “Have you had a chance to read the bill?”

  “I have not had the privilege yet.”

  “Well, I can assure you that the Home Office wouldn’t have an issue budget-wise with the creation of a new agency within their department,” Lord Desmond said as he moved to address another question.

  Baldwin wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “They would have to reallocate funds from other functioning agencies to pay for this new agency,” he pressed.

  “Yes, they would.”

  “And you believe these other agencies deserve to have their funding cut?”

  Lord Desmond put his hands out wide. “In case you haven’t heard, England is not at war with France anymore. We won!”

  “I am well aware of that, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have any more enemies just waiting to pounce.”

  “And who would that be?” Lord Desmond scoffed. “I hope you don’t intend to say those pesky Americans.” He chuckled.

  “We have other threats.”

  Lord Desmond lifted his brow. “And you would know that how, Lord Hawthorne?”

  “One can hardly read the morning newspaper and not get the sense that England is not as beloved by other nations as we want to believe,” Baldwin stated. “We can’t leave England unprotected from domestic or foreign threats.”

  “I am not proposing cutting our military funding,” Lord Desmond argued. “Although, I do believe there is some waste in there, as well.”

  “I am not surprised you would think that,” Baldwin huffed.

  Lord Desmond eyed him critically. “You seem remarkably informed about the state of world affairs for a man who has isolated himself for the past three years.”

  Ignoring his snide remark, Baldwin said, “That doesn’t mean I haven’t stayed abreast on the issues.”

  “Then you would know that the war greatly affected our economy, our food supply, and created an unprecedented level of unemployment.”

  “I do.”

  “What do you propose that we do, Lord Hawthorne?” Lord Desmond asked scornfully. “After all, I would imagine that you don’t have any problem acquiring food for yourself and your family.”

  Baldwin smirked. “It would appear from the looks of you that you don’t have that problem either, Lord Desmond.”

  Lord Desmond slammed the papers back down onto the table. “If you read the bill, you will see the advantages of having the Home Office oversee the poor. It would free up the parishes to deal with other matters within their borders.”

  “How exactly did you determine that?”

  In a dismissive tone, Lord Desmond replied, “It is much too complicated for you to understand.”

  “Allow me to be the judge of that,” Baldwin responded.

  “The Poor Laws are outdated, and the parishes cannot create workhouses fast enough to help with the growing number of the poor. The government needs to provide these workhouses and contract out the management of them.”

  “Aren’t some workhouses already contracted out in that manner?”

  “They are,” Lord Desmond confirmed, “but most parish workhouses appoint a person or group of people within the parish to manage it, called the overseers of the poor.”

  “And it is your opinion that contracting out the work to someone is much more efficient than using the overseers of the poor.”

  Lord Desmond nodded. “It is, especially since some overseers are far more effective than others.”

  “Then why don’t you draft a bill that changes how the workhouses are managed rather than burden us with a bill that creates a new agency within the Home Office to oversee the poor?”

  “Because we need more workhouses in the rookeries, and we need them now,” Lord Desmond declared. “The Home Office has resources that would allow us to build these workhouses without delay.”

  The Lord Chancellor rose from his chair and announced, “I’m afraid it is time we move on to other pressing matters.” He shifted his gaze to Lord Westinghouse. “You now have the floor.”

  As Baldwin returned to his seat, Percy leaned closer and whispered, “I wouldn’t look now, but Lord Desmond is staring daggers at you.”

  “I am not the least bit surprised.”

  Percy studied him curiously. “I hadn’t realized that you were so opposed to Lord Desmond’s bill.”

  “I find anything that will weaken our national security to be an issue for me.”

  “Well said.”

  Turning his attention towards Lord Desmond, Baldwin saw the lord was, in fact, glaring at him. He met his gaze and tipped his head.

  Lord Desmond scoffed and turned his attention to Lord Westinghouse, who was currently speaking about the Corn Laws.

  Baldwin sat back and listened as the other lords debated about the price of grain and the effects it had on the economy. This was to be his life now, he realized. He stifled a groan at that terrible thought.

  “I shall tie you to a tree,” Mrs. Foster declared as she pulled her needle through the fabric. “That way you won’t be able to sneak out again.”

  Madalene pushed her own needle and thread through the white handkerchief she was working on. “That sounds deucedly uncomfortable,” she said.

  “As well it should be.”

  “Why not just lock me in my bedchamber?” Madalene asked, amused.

  Mrs. Foster huffed indignantly. “You would just leave by way of the window.”

  “True,” Madalene replied. “The stones on the townhouse would make excellent footholds. I haven’t tried, but I am sure I could climb down.”

  “Do be serious, Madalene,” Mrs. Foster contended.

  Madalene lowered the handkerchief to her lap. “I am sorry that I snuck out last night, but I had no choice.”

  Mrs. Foster frowned. “One always has a choice,” she contended, “and you chose very poorly. You must safeguard your reputation at all costs.”

  “You are right, of course.”

  “It is not a matter of simply being right.”

  Placing the fabric onto the settee next to her, Madalene reached for her cup of tea on the table. “I was hoping to buy Edith’s freedom.”

  “Your intentions were noble, but you failed in that regard.”

  “That may be true, but now Mrs. Hardy is out of debt to that horrid man.�
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  Mrs. Foster’s face softened. “You have a good heart, much like your mother, but you need to think things through a little more carefully.”

  “Patience has never been one of my virtues.”

  “I know, child,” Mrs. Foster replied, “but I don’t know what I would have done if you had been abducted last night.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “You are naïve in the ways of the world,” Mrs. Foster said with a sigh. “You could never fight off a man who is intent on doing you harm.”

  “You underestimate me.”

  “Perhaps, but it is my job to keep you safe.”

  Madalene took a sip of her tea before saying, “And you are doing a splendid job.”

  “Am I?” Mrs. Foster questioned. “In the past few days, you have snuck out twice, to go to a coffeehouse and a gambling hall.”

  “All with good reason.”

  Mrs. Foster shook her head. “I don’t know what I am going to do with you. I daresay that I would have a more productive conversation with a cat.”

  Madalene placed her cup on the table. “I know that I am making light of this conversation,” she replied, “but I assure you that no harm was done from me visiting the coffeehouse or gambling hall.”

  “Except that Lord Hawthorne saw you,” Mrs. Foster said, giving her a knowing look. “Both times.”

  “That may be true, but he has agreed to help me find Edith.”

  “I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” Mrs. Foster remarked. “What would a marquess know about finding a missing person?”

  “It is different with Lord Hawthorne.”

  “In what way?”

  Madalene pressed her lips together as she considered her response. It was evident that Lord Hawthorne held secrets. She could see it in his eyes, but they were safely guarded. Furthermore, he did claim to have a certain set of skills that could help her find Edith.

  “There is more to Lord Hawthorne than meets the eye,” Madalene said.

  “What are you referring to?”

  “I can’t explain it,” Madalene admitted, “but I feel as if I can trust the man.”

  Mrs. Foster didn’t appear pleased by her admission, apparent by the frown that appeared on her lips. “You shouldn’t give your trust to a man with whom you are hardly acquainted.”

  “I know it sounds foolish—”

  Speaking over her, Mrs. Foster said, “It does, and, frankly, I am back to wanting to tie you to a tree.”

  Madalene laughed at her companion’s unexpected remark. “I will be mindful to be cautious around Lord Hawthorne.”

  “It pleases me immensely to hear that.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Mrs. Foster pointed at the window that faced the street. “I just saw Lord Hawthorne ride up on his horse.”

  Before she could respond, Graham appeared in the doorway and met her gaze. “Lord Hawthorne is here, Miss. Are you available for callers?”

  “I am,” Madalene answered, smoothing her primrose muslin gown.

  “Very good,” Graham replied before exiting.

  In the next moment, Lord Hawthorne stepped into the room. He was dressed in a blue jacket, a matching waistcoat, and buff trousers. His brown hair was brushed forward and he had a wry smile on his lips. She wondered what it would take to truly see him smile, one that exuded happiness.

  Lord Hawthorne bowed stiffly. “Good afternoon, Miss Dowding,” he greeted. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”

  Madalene tipped her head respectfully. “Of course, my lord,” she responded before gesturing towards Mrs. Foster. “Allow me to introduce you to my companion, Mrs. Foster.”

  Lord Hawthorne turned his gaze towards her companion. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “Likewise, Lord Hawthorne,” Mrs. Foster acknowledged.

  Silence descended over the room, and before it threatened to become awkward, Madalene asked, “Would you care for some tea?”

  “No, thank you,” Lord Hawthorne replied. “It is such a pleasant day that I was hoping to take a turn with you in the garden.”

  “What a splendid idea,” Madalene responded, rising from her seat on the settee. “Would you care to join us, Mrs. Foster?”

  Mrs. Foster shook her head. “I thank you for the kind offer, but I’m afraid I have letters I need to write,” she said. “I do hope you enjoy yourself.”

  As Madalene approached Lord Hawthorne, he offered his arm and she accepted it. She led them towards the rear of the townhouse, and a footman opened the door for them, then discreetly followed them outside and stood guard at the door.

  Once they were walking on the gravel footpath, Madalene dropped her arm from his. “Thank you for coming today.”

  “I told you that I would.”

  “You did, but I imagine that you are a very busy man.”

  Lord Hawthorne nodded, keeping his gaze straight ahead. “I just spent the morning at the House of Lords, and we adjourned for a few hours.”

  “Was anything interesting discussed?”

  “Nothing that would interest you,” he remarked dismissively.

  Stopping, Madalene turned to face him. “Why would you say that, my lord?”

  “We discussed politics and whatnot.”

  “And women can’t be interested in politics?”

  Lord Hawthorne’s expression was unreadable as he stopped and turned to her. “A respectable lady wouldn’t be interested in discussing politics with a man,” he replied.

  “I see,” she muttered. “Am I to assume that you don’t find me respectable?”

  “I never said that,” he answered, shaking his head.

  “But you implied it.”

  “I’m afraid you misconstrued my words, Miss Dowding.” Lord Hawthorne turned and resumed walking down the footpath.

  Madalene shook her own head before she went to catch up with him.

  With a side glance at her, Lord Hawthorne said, “You mentioned that Miss Hardy worked at your orphanage.”

  “That’s right,” Madalene replied. “It is known as the Elizabeth Dowding School for Orphan Girls. I named it after my mother, in honor of her legacy.”

  “That is most charitable of you.”

  Glancing over at him, Madalene said, “My mother doted on me something fierce, but I knew she was saddened that she wasn’t able to have any more children.”

  “That is most unfortunate.”

  “My mother spent most of her time acting as a patron for various organizations that focused on nurturing children,” Madalene shared.

  “Your mother sounds like an impressive woman.”

  A sad smile came to her face. “She was,” Madalene replied. “She was the best of women, and I was fortunate enough to be able to call her Mother.”

  “How long ago did she pass away?”

  “Six months ago.”

  “And when did you open the orphanage?”

  “Four months ago.”

  “That is quite the undertaking,” Lord Hawthorne said.

  Madalene nodded. “It was, but I started working on opening the orphanage before my mother passed away,” she shared. “She even helped with some of the planning.”

  “I see.”

  “My mother had a weak heart, and I watched her wither away for months before she died,” Madalene admitted.

  “That must have been hard to see.”

  “It was, but I was grateful for that time with her.”

  A pained looked came to Lord Hawthorne’s expression. “My father died unexpectedly three years ago. I didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye.”

  “I am sorry for your loss.”

  He stiffened at her words.

  “What is it?” she prodded.

  Barely sparing her a glance, he replied, “Those words seem empty to me. They are what people say when they don’t know what else to say.”

  “I agree with you there.”

  “You do?”

&n
bsp; Madalene smiled at the astonishment in his voice. “Try not to sound so surprised,” she joked.

  “My apologies, but we do not usually see eye to eye on things.”

  “That may be true, but at least we are conversing without arguing.”

  Lord Hawthorne’s lips twitched, but still he did not smile. “That is a start, then.”

  “Yes, it is,” Madalene replied.

  They came to a stop at the back fence and Lord Hawthorne gestured towards an iron bench situated under some trees.

  “Would you care to sit?” he asked.

  Madalene sat down, but Lord Hawthorne remained standing. He met her gaze. “How did you meet Miss Hardy?” he asked.

  “We met at boarding school.”

  “Is my sister acquainted with her?”

  “She is,” Madalene confirmed, “but Edith was a year older than us.”

  Clasping his hands behind his back, Lord Hawthorne asked, “Did you see to the hiring of Miss Hardy yourself?”

  “I did.”

  “And you trust her to be a good, hardworking young woman?”

  Madalene bobbed her head. “Very much so.”

  “You mentioned that Miss Hardy’s father owed money to Eddy, but did he owe money to anyone else?”

  “Not that I am aware of.”

  Lord Hawthorne was silent for a long moment. “It is common for people to hide their true natures from the people around them,” he said. “How well do you think you know Miss Hardy?”

  “Edith wasn’t like that. She was quick to laugh and spoke freely.”

  He huffed. “Then you are easily deceived.”

  “Perhaps, but I know my friend. She wasn’t involved in any disreputable business,” Madalene pressed. “She was working hard to pay off her father’s debts so her mother and sister could build a new life.”

  “How admirable,” Lord Hawthorne muttered.

  Madalene cast him a frustrated look. “Are you always this cynical?”

  Lord Hawthorne didn’t hesitate in the least as he replied, “Yes.”

  “I pity you, then.”

  His brow rose. “You pity me?” he repeated slowly.

  “I do,” she said. “Not everyone has a devious nature.”

  “It has been my experience that they do.”