A Dangerous Pursuit (Regency Spies & Secrets Book 1)

by Laura Beers

  “Aren’t you afraid you will get a court martial for desertion?” Tom asked as he walked next to Baldwin.

  “Every day on that ship, I walked around like I was already dead,” Baldwin revealed. “I won’t go back. They will have to drag my bloody corpse back to the ship.”

  Morton gave him an approving look. “We have something in common, you and I.”

  “We do?”

  “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to advance our cause,” Morton shared, “including dying for it.”

  “I’ve come to accept that dying is easy, but living takes hard work,” Baldwin said.

  “Well said, Baldwin,” Morton stated as they entered the Blue Boar. He walked to the back door and pounded on it.

  The door was opened, and Morton brushed past the man guarding it. “I have seen the rubbish pile where Baldwin lives,” he announced, stopping in the front of the room. “I have no problem with this man attending our meetings.”

  Baldwin stepped towards the wall and leaned his shoulder against it.

  Morton straightened his shoulders. “The monarchy has abandoned us, gentlemen,” he proclaimed. “We are in desperate straits due to high taxes, the obscene price of food, and unprecedented levels of unemployment due to wartime trade restrictions. Some of our own neighbors have no choice between joining the army or starving, leaving their loved ones behind to fend for themselves. And what happens if we dare speak up about the injustice?” He paused before answering, “We will be arrested and labeled as rebels.”

  Pacing the small room, Morton continued. “The people are rioting, and it scares our mad King George. He knows that the fate of the French monarchy could be his own. Perhaps we should put his head on a stake, too!”

  “Hear, hear!” the men in the room yelled.

  Morton put his hand up to quiet the men down. “I have just spoken treason for even uttering those words, but the king must know that we have rights! While the Prince Regent is acquiring more debt to fund his lavish lifestyle, the people are starving.” He pointed towards a man who was sitting at one of the tables. “When was the last time you ate?”

  The man smirked. “Tonight.”

  The room erupted in laughter, and Morton’s face held an amused grin. “You are one of the lucky ones, my good man,” he said, then grew solemn. “But men, women, and children are starving right here in Town. I have seen their disheveled, sunken faces as they beg on the streets. The hope in their eyes has vanished. It has been taken away by a merciless king who only cares for himself!”

  A man spoke up from the back of the room. “What can we do about it?”

  Morton turned his attention towards him. “We can fight!” he exclaimed. “France did it! As did the Americans!” He held his clenched fist up in the air. “What is stopping us from doing it?”

  The men in the room cheered as Morton bobbed his head. When the room died down, Morton walked over to a box in the front of the room. “We need funds to start a revolution,” he said, holding it up. “Give what you can but keep enough so you can eat. A starved man is not a useful rebel.”

  Morton placed the box on a table and stepped back. “If anyone is looking for work, then I might be able to help you. But it is not without risks, mind you.”

  The back door opened and two serving wenches walked in with trays filled with tankards. “Drink and remember, men,” Morton said as he stepped away from the front of the room.

  Baldwin went to intercept Morton. “I am interested in a job,” he said.

  Morton bobbed his head in approval. “Follow me,” he instructed as he left the back room. He sat at an empty table in the main hall.

  Baldwin sat down across from him and gave him an expectant look.

  Morton leaned closer. “I have found a lucrative business,” he said in a hushed voice, “but it is not for the faint of heart.”

  “You don’t want me to kill anyone, do you?” Baldwin asked, keeping his face expressionless.

  “No. Nothing like that,” Morton chuckled, “but it might make you squeamish.”

  “You have seen the place where I live,” Baldwin joked. “Nothing makes me squeamish anymore.”

  “That is what I wanted to hear,” Morton said, glancing around him. “I found a merchant who will take some merchandise off our hands and sell it in India.”

  Baldwin nodded his understanding. “What do you want me to steal?”

  Morton paused. “Women.”

  Baldwin lifted his brows. “Women?”

  “We are careful who we abduct, so as not to attract too much attention,” Morton explained. “We pluck them off the streets, and no one is the wiser.”

  “What happens to these women?”

  Morton shrugged. “Who cares?” he asked. “But we make a hefty profit.”

  “What’s my cut?”

  A self-satisfied smile came to Morton’s face. “I pay five pounds a girl.”

  “Five pounds?” he repeated back in astonishment. “Just to abduct some girl and deliver her to you?”

  Morton leaned back in his seat and declared, “It is the easiest money that you will ever make.”

  “How much do you make off each girl?” Baldwin asked.

  “Ten pounds, but my cut goes to help the revolution,” Morton shared.

  Baldwin wiped his hand over his chin. “What girl do you want me to abduct?”

  “You choose,” Morton remarked.

  “How long do I have to get her?”

  Glancing over his shoulder, Morton said, “The merchant will be arriving by the end of the week. We are keeping the abducted girls in a pub near the docks known as the Flailing Duck.”

  “I can find a girl before then.”

  “Excellent,” Morton said as he waved a serving wench over. “Shall we drink on it?”

  “You want to do what?!” Corbyn shouted.

  Unperturbed by his friend’s outburst, Baldwin slowly repeated his request, “I want to abduct a girl and deliver her to the Flailing Duck.”

  Corbyn shifted his disbelieving gaze towards Oliver. “Your brother is mad,” he declared.

  Oliver wore an amused look on his face. “I won’t disagree with you there.”

  “Hear me out first before casting judgment,” Baldwin insisted.

  “Proceed, then,” Corbyn said as he sat back in his chair. “I find that I need a good laugh anyway.”

  “I will abduct a girl and deliver her to the pub,” Baldwin explained. “Then, we tip off the Runners about the location of the missing girls and they will raid the pub. The girls will be saved, and I won’t risk my cover being blown.”

  Corbyn shook his head. “How have you stayed alive for all these years?” he muttered under his breath.

  “The plan will work,” Baldwin insisted.

  “No, it won’t,” Corbyn said. “I can’t even begin listing how many ways your plan could go horribly, terribly wrong.”

  “Not if you and Oliver are in on it,” Baldwin revealed.

  Oliver shifted in his seat towards him. “What would you have me do?”

  “You two cannot possibly be in earnest?” Corbyn asked. “I am all for taking risks, but not at the expense of an innocent woman.”

  “That is why we will find a woman who will go along with the plan willingly,” Baldwin said.

  Corbyn huffed. “And what woman would be stupid enough to let herself be abducted intentionally, putting herself in harm’s way?”

  Baldwin shifted in his chair. “I was thinking Miss Dowding would.”

  A heavy silence fell over the room as Corbyn and Oliver stared at him with wide eyes. Finally, Oliver spoke. “I doubt that Miss Dowding is up to the task.”

  “I believe you may be underestimating her,” Baldwin said.

  “And you may be giving her too much credit,” Corbyn contended. “Furthermore, Miss Dowding is a genteel woman. If word got out that she was abducted, it could ruin her reputation.”

  “No one will find out,” Baldwin asserted.


  “How exactly can you be sure of that?” Oliver questioned.

  “We will pay off the Runners for their silence,” Baldwin explained. “They can announce in the papers that they found the women, but they will leave off their names.”

  Corbyn rose from his chair and walked over to the drink cart. “Your plan is foolhardy and far from flawless.”

  “Perhaps, but don’t all plans come with some risk?” Baldwin asked.

  Corbyn picked up the decanter. “Assuming Miss Dowding goes along with this plan, what would you have Oliver and me do?” he asked.

  “Oliver would follow us as we head to the pub, and you would already be positioned inside the main hall,” Baldwin explained. “After I deliver Miss Dowding, you both will stay to ensure she is safe.”

  “But I doubt that we will have eyes on her,” Oliver pointed out.

  “True, but you can ensure that they won’t move her anywhere else until the Runners arrive,” Baldwin said. “Oliver will keep an eye on the pub from the outside.”

  Corbyn took a long sip of his drink before asking, “What is the point of this plan?”

  “The radical group are using these abducted girls to help finance their revolution,” Baldwin shared. “They are selling them off to a merchant who sends them off to India.”

  “That is disconcerting, but we can’t save every woman who shares a similar fate,” Corbyn said. “That isn’t what we do.”

  Baldwin frowned at his friend’s callous remark. “Regardless, I need to earn Morton’s trust, because I fear that this group of rebels is more than they appear to be.”

  “Do you believe they are the group that we have been searching for?” Corbyn inquired.

  “I am not entirely sure, but I believe they have the capacity to be dangerous,” Baldwin shared. “Before they even allowed me to stay for the meeting, they asked to visit where I lived.”

  “You took them to Hawthorne House?” Corbyn asked with a lifted brow.

  Baldwin smirked. “No, I took them to my rented room on Draper Street.”

  “When did you acquire this investment?” Corbyn joked as he placed his empty glass back on the cart.

  “I paid a hefty sum to a man to rent his room for a few weeks,” Baldwin explained. “Oliver helped me with the subterfuge.”

  Corbyn picked back up the decanter and poured two glasses of brandy. “In what way?”

  “Oliver was there when we arrived, and he even hired a woman to make an appearance.”

  Nodding, Oliver said, “It is true. I have worked with this actress before, so I knew she wouldn’t let me down.” He chuckled. “Although, the rat running around the room made a nice touch, as well.”

  “That it did,” Baldwin agreed.

  Corbyn walked over the two glasses and extended one towards each one of them. “I reviewed the extensive log with all the persons of interests in London, and Morton is not on the list.”

  “He isn’t?”

  “No, but I went ahead and added him,” Corbyn said. “Can you tell me anything else about Morton?”

  “I can tell by his manner of speech that he is clearly educated,” Baldwin replied. “His clothing was in the latest fashion, and his Hessian boots were well tended to.”

  “That is a start,” Corbyn remarked as he went around his desk and sat down. “I will instruct our agents to keep their eyes and ears open for this Morton fellow.”

  Baldwin took a sip of his drink, then lowered the glass. “Are you in?” he asked.

  Corbyn sighed heavily. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “You always have a choice,” Baldwin said, “but I would prefer to work with you.”

  A smirk came to Corbyn’s lips. “Like when we stormed the beach to stop the smugglers in Wembury and left with matching scars on our arms from a cutlass?”

  “That was a fun assignment,” Baldwin stated.

  “Fun?” Corbyn repeated. “We barely left with our lives.”

  Baldwin smiled. “That is why it was so enjoyable.”

  “If I recall correctly, that was the first time you turned down a promotion,” Corbyn said, eyeing him closely.

  “I didn’t want to be cooped up in an office somewhere,” Baldwin responded. “I wanted to remain in the field.”

  Corbyn leaned forward in his chair and placed his arms on his desk. “This could have been your office, and you could have been the one reporting to the Superintendent of the Alien Office.”

  “But I wouldn’t have been happy with this job,” Baldwin remarked. “Besides, it suits you most admirably.”

  “I suppose you wouldn’t have been interested in the pay either,” Corbyn said knowingly.

  “I don’t work as an agent for the pay.”

  Oliver spoke up. “It is getting late,” he pointed out. “We should be heading back to Draper Street.”

  Corbyn lifted his brow. “You intend to reside there?”

  “For the time being,” Baldwin replied, rising. “At least until we are satisfied that we aren’t being watched.”

  Corbyn perused the length of him. “You look terrible.”

  “Frankly, I don’t smell that good either,” Baldwin admitted, “but I had to convince Morton that we lived in the rookeries.”

  Oliver rose and placed his empty glass on the desk. “I can handle the smell, but the fleas are horrendous.”

  “That they are,” Baldwin agreed. “And the straw poking out of the mattress can be quite irksome.”

  “It is more comfortable to sleep on the floor, in my opinion,” Oliver remarked.

  Corbyn met his gaze, his expression stern. “When you are recruiting Miss Dowding for this assignment, be sure to inform her of all the inherent dangers that are associated with this abduction. I don’t want her to be unprepared and turn into a simpering miss on us.”

  “I will,” Baldwin replied. “I intend to teach her some basics on how to defend herself, as well.”

  “I wish you luck, and I want to be kept informed,” Corbyn said. “If this assignment fails, it is on you, Falcon.”

  Baldwin tipped his head in acknowledgement as he and Oliver started towards the door. They walked in silence until they left the building.

  “I sure hope you know what you are doing,” Oliver muttered.

  “It will work out.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Baldwin glanced over at his brother. “We don’t have much of an option in the matter. I need to establish a level of trust with Morton.”

  “But to choose Miss Dowding…” Oliver’s voice trailed off. “That is a bold choice, Brother, even for you.”

  “I will ensure that Miss Dowding is ready for the assignment.”

  Oliver lifted his brow. “Why do you have so much confidence in her?”

  “She is stronger than most people give her credit for,” Baldwin replied, hoping his words were true. “Furthermore, she is desperate to find her friend, which is why I believe she will go along with this plan.”

  “What if this friend isn’t with these abducted girls?”

  Baldwin shrugged. “Then I made a valiant effort to find Miss Hardy, and I failed.”

  “And you would be all right with that?”

  “I would, especially since I can’t keep chasing after Miss Hardy,” Baldwin replied.

  Oliver skirted around a rotting animal carcass in the street as he remarked, “Jane will be furious if something happens to Miss Dowding.”

  “I am well aware of that fact.”

  “She might very well never forgive you.”

  Baldwin winced, knowing his brother’s words were spoken in truth. “Then nothing can happen to Miss Dowding.”

  “Jane already holds a lot of resentment towards you for leaving,” Oliver shared.

  “I am well aware of that,” Baldwin said. “She spoke some harsh words to me a few days ago.”

  Oliver gave him a side glance. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “What can I do?” Baldwin asked hone
stly. “Jane made it perfectly clear that she hates me.”

  “Jane is hurting.”

  Baldwin huffed. “Aren’t we all?”

  “Yes, but you were the one who left,” Oliver pointed out.

  “I had my reasons.”

  “I miss Father, too,” Oliver remarked, a note of sadness in his voice.

  Baldwin stiffened as he stopped on the street and turned to face his brother. “Of course you do,” he said. “Father was proud of you.”

  “He was proud of you, as well,” Oliver argued.

  “No,” he replied. “I did nothing to earn Father’s praise.”

  Oliver’s brow knitted. “Aren’t you being rather hard on yourself?”

  “Father wanted me to help him manage our investments and properties, but I was too busy being an agent,” Baldwin said, keeping his voice low. “I failed him.”

  “You did no such thing,” Oliver asserted.

  Baldwin shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now,” he declared. “Father is gone, and I will never be able to live up to the man that he was.”

  “You are making a blasted good effort, if you ask me,” Oliver said, his voice filled with compassion.

  “No, Jane was right,” Baldwin asserted dejectedly. “I abandoned the family when you needed me the most.”

  “You were hurting,” Oliver observed. “You still are.”

  “Forget I said anything,” Baldwin huffed as he resumed walking.

  “It’s not too late to make amends,” Oliver responded, matching his stride.

  Baldwin pursed his lips together as they continued to walk down the street. His brother couldn’t understand the overwhelming anguish that he struggled with on a daily basis. At times, it threatened to consume him, taking away every last ounce of happiness that he possessed. Which wasn’t much.

  Oliver’s voice broke through his musings. “What I wouldn’t give for a hackney right now,” he joked.

  Baldwin chuckled, grateful for the change in topics. “I agree. It is a shame that hackneys don’t operate this deep in the rookeries.”

  “Fortunately, we are only a few blocks away,” Oliver commented as his alert eyes glanced at the men loitering in front of the buildings. “Let’s hope we get into a fight on our way there.”