A Dangerous Pursuit (Regency Spies & Secrets Book 1)

by Laura Beers

  Her eyes snapped towards his. “I do.”

  “By all means, ask away,” he replied, finding himself pleased that she was now looking at him.

  “Do you truly mean that?”

  “I do.”

  Miss Dowding pressed her lips together before asking, “Why are you associating with disreputable people in the rookeries?”

  “There is a very simple explanation, but I didn’t want to tell you until now.”

  “Which is?”

  Baldwin leaned closer to her and said, “I was scouting locations for the workhouses in the rookeries, and I happened upon men who informed me about the missing girls. I befriended them only in the hopes of discovering the girls’ location.”

  Miss Dowding eyed him critically. “I thought you weren’t in support of Lord Desmond’s bill.”

  “I’m not, but I am in support of building workhouses for the poor,” he explained. “Insomuch that I plan to fund a portion of the project myself.”

  “Are you in earnest?”

  Baldwin nodded, knowing that Miss Dowding was easily falling for his lies. A part of him almost felt bad for lying to her. Almost. “I am.”

  Her eyes softened as she watched him. “I believe I misjudged you, Lord Hawthorne,” she hesitated before adding, “again.”

  Smiling, he said, “I believe we are both guilty of that.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

  “We couldn’t take a chance that it would be leaked to the newspapers,” he shared. “After all, a marquess doesn’t typically stroll around the rookeries with his brother and friend.”

  A small smile caused Miss Dowding’s perfectly formed lips to curve delightfully. He found his eyes lingering on them as she said, “I find what you are doing admirable.”

  “You mustn’t tell anyone,” Baldwin insisted. “We still haven’t found a way to fund the rest of the workhouses.”

  “I would like to match whatever donation it is that you are contributing.”

  “You would?”

  Miss Dowding tilted her head and commented, “You sound surprised.”

  “I am,” he replied. “I hadn’t even considered you would be willing to donate to the workhouses.”

  “And why wouldn’t I?” she questioned. “I find building workhouses in the rookeries to be an exemplary thing, and I have more money than I can spend in two lifetimes.”

  Baldwin had to admit that his opinion of Miss Dowding rose significantly. He hadn’t met a more charitable person before, nor did he think he ever would again.

  “You are a formidable woman,” he said softly.

  “That is kind of you to say, my lord, but I am only doing what my conscience dictates.”

  The music stopped, and Baldwin found that he was not finished conversing with Miss Dowding. He took her left hand and placed it in the crook of his arm.

  “Would you care to go walking in the gardens?” he asked.

  “That sounds lovely.”

  As he led her towards the French doors, he noticed that Mrs. Foster followed discreetly behind them. They started down a footpath leading to the center of the gardens, where a pool glistened in the moonlight.

  “Would you care to sit?” he asked, stopping near one of the iron benches encircling the water.

  “I would,” she replied, and gracefully lowered herself onto the bench.

  Claiming the seat next to her, Baldwin shifted to face her and found himself rendered speechless at the way the moonlight lit up her enchanting face, forcing him to recognize that he had never met a more beautiful woman than Miss Dowding.

  He had a sudden desire to learn everything he could about her. Before he could stop himself, he said, “Tell me about your childhood.”

  “I had a happy childhood,” she shared. “My mother made sure of that. Before I was sent to boarding school, we spent our days riding on our estate and visiting people in the village. We were always bringing a basket of food to someone in need.”

  “Your mother sounds like a wonderful person.”

  Miss Dowding grew silent. “She was,” she finally said. “I was lucky to have her for as long as I did.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “We were in London when my mother grew sick, and the doctor recommended that we adjourn to the country for the fresh air,” Miss Dowding explained. “But, for the next four months, I watched my mother wither away.”

  “That must have been hard.”

  “It was, but it was harder on my mother.”

  Baldwin looked at her curiously. “Why do you say that?”

  “She hated being trapped in bed with her weak heart, and she hated that I had to care for her,” Miss Dowding shared. “She felt that she was a burden to me.”

  “Was she?”

  Miss Dowding huffed. “Heavens, no. Every moment I spent with my mother was a gift. But she couldn’t see that, and she grew more and more despondent.”

  “That must have been hard to watch.”

  Tears came to her eyes, but Miss Dowding blinked them back. “I tried to stop her…” Her words trailed off as her face paled.

  “What did you try to stop?”

  “Nothing,” she replied with a shake of her head. “Forget that I said anything.”

  Baldwin leaned closer to her and said, “You can trust me, Miss Dowding.”

  Miss Dowding dropped her gaze to her lap. “I do not wish to burden you with my shame,” she murmured.

  Reaching over, he picked up her hand and brought it to his lips. As her hand hovered near his mouth, he said, “Nothing that you say will ever frighten me away from being your friend.”

  “This might,” she said, her eyes filled with sadness. “I haven’t been able to speak of it with anyone else.”

  “Not even Mrs. Foster?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Then you must relieve yourself of your burden,” he said. “Let me help you.”

  Uncertainty crossed her delicate features as she asserted, “You must promise not to tell another soul.”

  “You have my word.” Baldwin lowered her hand, but he didn’t release it.

  Miss Dowding glanced down at their entwined hands. “My mother was tired of being sick, and she told me that she intended to overdose on laudanum that evening.” She swallowed slowly. “I tried to talk her out of it, but she was adamant that it was time for her to die.”

  “I am so sorry,” he said, knowing his words were wholly inadequate.

  A tear rolled down her cheek, and Miss Dowding reached up to swipe it away. “I stayed with her the entire evening, and even after she was gone. What my mother did was incredibly selfish and…” Her words trailed off as it turned into a sob. “I just wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”

  Baldwin had an overwhelming desire to pull Miss Dowding into his arms, but he knew it was not the place to do so. He didn’t dare put her into a compromising position, no matter how much he wished to console her.

  “Why haven’t you told Mrs. Foster the truth about your mother?” he prodded.

  “I don’t want anyone to think less of her.”

  Baldwin looked at her incredulously. “Instead you shouldered this burden alone?”

  She nodded slowly. “I thought I was strong enough.”

  “My dear,” he started, “there is no shame in asking for help.”

  “If anyone discovers the truth, then my mother’s legacy will be tarnished,” Miss Dowding declared. “And I’m not willing to risk that.”

  “Then I shall keep your secret.”

  Miss Dowding offered him a timid smile. “Thank you, my lord. I must admit I find some relief in confiding my secret to you.”

  “I had no idea that you were carrying such a heavy burden,” he admitted. “You hide it remarkably well.”

  “I believe everyone hides a part of themselves from others.”

  Baldwin heard the music start back up again. Rising from the bench, he said, “I should return you to the ball.”
/>
  “Must you?” she asked as she rose.

  He chuckled. “Do not tempt me. I would much rather stay out in the gardens with you than be in that stuffy ballroom. But I believe Mr. Thatcher, kind as he was to allow me the set, would still like to dance with you.”

  As they started walking along the footpath, Miss Dowding remarked, “I have noticed that you have sat many of the sets out.”

  Baldwin lifted his brow. “Have you been watching me, Miss Dowding?”

  “I have not,” she asserted as an adorable blush crept up onto her cheeks.

  Taking pity on her, he replied, “Frankly, I detest dancing.”

  “That is a shame, my lord, because you are quite good at it,” she said, sparing a glance in his direction.

  Baldwin smiled at her remark. “Perhaps all I need is the right dance partner.”

  “In my experience, I have found that usually makes all the difference,” Miss Dowding remarked.

  Baldwin sat at the head of the table as he read the morning newspaper. He reached for his cup of tea and took a long sip before returning it to the saucer on the table.

  Pratt stepped into the room and asked, “May I have a moment of your time, milord?”

  “You may,” Baldwin replied as he lowered the paper.

  The butler gestured towards the door and a familiar lanky man walked into the parlor, his eyes darting nervously around the room. He was wearing a tattered brown jacket and matching trousers and his dark hair was slicked to the side.

  “You may remember Mr. John Harvey,” Pratt said. “He shared that you two met briefly in the rookeries.”

  Baldwin tipped his head in acknowledgement. “That we did.”

  “We have hired John on as a gardener, and we reimbursed his travel expenses as you ordered,” Pratt revealed.

  “That is wonderful news.” Baldwin turned his attention towards Mr. Harvey. “How have you settled in at Hawthorne House?”

  “Very well, milord,” Mr. Harvey replied. “And I wanted to humbly thank ye for this opportunity. It will go a long way to feed my family.”

  “I am pleased to hear that.”

  Mr. Harvey’s eyes darted towards Pratt before saying, “I would like to apologize for attempting to rob ye.”

  “A man will do just about anything to care for his family,” Baldwin stated.

  “Aye, milord.”

  Baldwin gave him a pointed look. “However, I would strongly encourage you not to squander this opportunity by doing something so foolhardy again.”

  “I will not,” Mr. Harvey asserted.

  “I am pleased to hear that,” Baldwin said.

  Pratt spoke up. “If you will excuse us, John is set to meet with the head gardener to begin work for the day.”

  Baldwin watched as they departed from the room before he brought the newspaper back up. He had just finished reading an article when his sister walked into the room.

  “Good morning,” Jane greeted.

  Baldwin lowered the paper. “Good morning.”

  Jane stepped over to the buffet table and piled a plate high with food. “I thought I would eat breakfast with you this morning.”

  “Wonderful,” he said as he brought the paper back up.

  Coming to sit to his right, Jane asked, “Is there anything interesting in the morning newspaper?”

  “Not particularly,” he admitted. “It was announced that Lord Desmond is having a rally to garner support for his bill.”

  “Are you in support of the bill?” Jane inquired.

  “I am not,” he responded. “I am in support of workhouses in the rookeries, but I do not believe the Home Office should take over the responsibilities of overseeing them.”

  Jane placed her napkin onto her lap. “Then how do you suggest they be funded?”

  “As they always have,” Baldwin replied. “By the parishes that they are located in.”

  “But the parishes are unable to handle the growing number of poor people living in their borders.”

  “That may be true, but they can also join together to form unions to share the costs associated with the workhouses.”

  Jane nodded. “Those are known as Gilbert Unions. Thus, by creating large groups they are in a position to establish larger workhouses. Sadly, this was not implemented very well.”

  Baldwin looked at her in surprise. “You are remarkably well informed.”

  “I don’t know why you seem so surprised,” Jane remarked as she reached for her fork. “I read the newspaper nearly every morning.”

  “I hadn’t realized you would be interested in reading the morning newspaper.”

  “And why not?” she asked.

  Baldwin folded the paper and placed it on the table. “My apologies,” he said. “I think it is commendable that you read the newspaper.”

  “Thank you,” Jane replied as a footman placed a cup of chocolate in front of her. “I couldn’t help but notice that you and Madalene appeared rather close last night at the ball.”

  Baldwin stiffened. “Why do you say that?”

  “After dancing the waltz, you disappeared with her into the gardens for quite some time,” Jane shared, a smile on her face.

  “You need not worry about propriety,” he started, “we were chaperoned by Miss Dowding’s companion the entire time.”

  “I never questioned that.”

  “Say what you need to say and be done with it,” he insisted.

  Her smile grew. “You are being rather testy this morning.”

  “I am not.”

  Jane reached for her cup of chocolate as she said, “I am merely commenting that you and Miss Dowding appear to be getting closer.”

  “We are friends.”

  “Friends?” Jane asked. “I didn’t think that you had too many of those.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Well, I would ask that you be cautious around my dear friend, because I wouldn’t want her reputation to suffer by associating with you.”

  Baldwin furrowed his brow. “Meaning?”

  “Do you have any intention of pursuing Madalene?” Jane asked plainly.

  “I do not,” he replied. “Frankly, I have no thoughts of matrimony at this time.”

  Jane bobbed her head. “I assumed as much.”

  “But that doesn’t mean we can’t remain friends.”

  “Just be mindful of the gossips,” Jane warned. “They can spew vicious tales and will damage reputations for their enjoyment.”

  “That is awful.”

  “It is the unfortunate truth, I’m afraid.”

  Before he could respond, Oliver walked into the breakfast parlor with his hair tousled and his clothes horribly wrinkled.

  “Good morning,” Jane said in a disapproving tone. “I see that you just got home.”

  Oliver winced as he brought a hand to his forehead. “I did, and I would appreciate it if you kept your voice down.”

  “My voice isn’t raised, Oliver,” Jane remarked curtly. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have had so much to drink last night.”

  Oliver walked over to the buffet table and grabbed a piece of toast. “Where is the fun in that?”

  Jane turned towards Oliver and asked defiantly, “Do you ever tire of being a despicable cad?”

  Oliver swallowed the bite in his mouth. “Why are you attacking me this morning?” he asked as he leaned his shoulder against the wall.

  “If you must know, it is because I rarely see you.”

  Oliver smirked. “You miss me, then?”

  Jane shook her head and rose. “I would prefer not to spend time in your presence right now,” she said before storming out of the room.

  Baldwin lifted his brow. “I take it that our dear sister doesn’t approve of you and your lifestyle.”

  Oliver sighed as he came closer to the table. “No, she does not,” he replied. “She makes that abundantly clear.”

  “That is most unfortunate.”

  “The sad thing is that Jane isn’t wrong,” Oliver
said as he sat down next to him. “Mother feels the same way.”

  “Has Mother said something to you?”

  Oliver shook his head. “No, but I can see it in her eyes.”

  “We must put our duty ahead of our wants,” Baldwin said.

  “I know, but…” His voice trailed off as a pained look came to his face. “Have you ever wished that we weren’t recruited out of Oxford to be agents?”

  Baldwin lifted his brow. “No, but it would appear that you have.”

  “I was supposed to be a barrister,” Oliver said. “I was even preparing to apply to one of the Inns of Court.”

  “Do you regret becoming an agent?” Baldwin asked.

  Oliver frowned. “That is a ticklish question.”

  “Not really.”

  “We must put our duty ahead of our own wants,” Oliver said as he rose. “I think I am just spouting nonsense because I’m tired.”

  Baldwin gave his brother a concerned look. “Becoming lackadaisical can get you killed,” he pointed out.

  “There is little chance of that,” Oliver remarked dryly. “I am just babysitting schoolboys who spout radical views.”

  “Can you ask Corbyn to reassign you?”

  “I have, but he said I was in the perfect position to spy on members of Society.”

  “That is a shame.”

  Oliver started walking backwards towards the door. “Not everyone is lucky enough to go undercover for three years and help French royalists during the war.”

  After his brother left, Baldwin sat for a long moment. He hadn’t considered that his brother might harbor some feelings of jealousy towards him for his past assignments. They had taken such different paths after they were recruited to be agents.

  A familiar voice came from the window. “I hadn’t realized that Oliver was not enjoying his cover to this extent.”

  Baldwin glanced over and saw Corbyn was entering the breakfast parlor by way of the open window.

  “Did my butler turn you away?”

  Corbyn shook his head as he adjusted his white cravat. “I didn’t attempt to go to the main door.”

  “Were you spying on our conversation?”

  “It was unintentional,” Corbyn replied as he went and closed the door. “I wanted to speak to you, but I was unable to get your attention while your sister was in the room.”

  “Again, you could have come by way of the main door.”