by Beers, Laura
“Every mother has a favorite,” Jane remarked. “It is just the truth of it.”
Madalene laughed. “Regardless, I don’t believe your mother neglects you in any fashion.”
“No, she does not,” Jane agreed. “She is relentless in the rearing of me.”
“If you want me to feel pity for you, I don’t,” Madalene said, amused. “You have a mother that dotes on you something fierce.”
“She now dotes on you, as well.”
“That she does.”
Another footman approached carrying a tray with two glasses of water, and Jane reached for one. “How did you get so good at boxing?” she asked after a refreshing sip.
“Lots of practice,” Madalene replied.
“I hope, one day, that I will be as good as you.”
“You will.”
“How can you be sure?”
Madalene smirked. “Because you are one of the most stubborn people that I know.”
“You say that as if it is a bad thing,” Jane said, smiling.
With a laugh, Madalene remarked, “We should go inside before the sun gets too high in the sky.”
“Now you sound like my mother,” Jane teased as she extended her empty glass to the footman.
“Your mother is very wise.”
“Only about certain things.”
Madalene shook her head. “I won’t tell her you said that.”
“Thank you.”
“Will it be all right if we depart within the hour for the orphanage?” Madalene asked as they walked the short distance to Hawthorne House.
“I’ll be ready,” Jane said, smoothing out her white cotton gown. “Will Baldwin be joining us today?”
“No, he has a meeting at the House of Lords, but he has insisted that we take along additional footmen to watch over us.”
“That sounds like the brother I know and love.”
Madalene glanced over at her. “You two appear to have gotten closer these last few weeks.”
“It is true,” Jane agreed. “I find Baldwin to be much more tolerable.”
“That is good.”
“I still don’t fully understand his reasons for leaving for three years after my father died, but I am beginning to accept it.”
A footman opened the rear door and they stepped inside the townhouse. Before they could advance any further, Baldwin approached them with a smile on his face.
“Are you finished boxing on the lawn?” he asked as he came to stand next to his wife.
“We are,” Madalene confirmed.
Baldwin leaned forward and kissed his wife on the cheek. “I was hoping to speak to you privately before you leave for the orphanage.”
“Oh,” Madalene murmured. “I hope everything is all right.”
Baldwin leaned closer and whispered something into her ear.
A hint of a smile played on Madalene’s lips. “That does sound most urgent. We should discuss it at once.”
“I agree,” Baldwin remarked as he offered his arm to his wife.
Jane took great delight in the love that was so evidently displayed between Baldwin and Madalene. They were most definitely a love match, and the envy of the ton.
As they walked away, Jane hurried towards the entry hall and was surprised to see her other brother, Oliver, speaking to their butler.
He was dressed in wrinkled clothing, his dark hair was tousled about, and he had splotches of dirt on his face. He looked terrible.
Oliver shifted his tired eyes towards her. “Good morning, Jane.”
Her back stiffened as she came to a stop in front of him. “I see that you finally returned home.”
“Yes,” he replied. “I find that I am rather famished.” He smiled, no doubt in a foolish attempt to disarm her.
Not amused by his antics, she asked, “Does Emmeline know that you are home?”
Oliver shook his head. “Not yet. I only just arrived.”
“Do you think it is wise to be gone for days when you have a wife waiting for you at home?” she asked, placing her hand on her hip.
“Not this again,” he sighed. “Emmeline understands my reasons. Why can’t you?”
“Your reasons?” she questioned. “You go to gambling hells and drink yourself into oblivion.”
“I also spend time with my friends.”
“Oh, how could I have forgotten that?” she mocked.
Oliver grew solemn, making him look even more tired. “Need I remind you that I do not answer to you, Jane?”
“And I am most fortunate for that.”
“Then why do you keep harping on me?”
“You have only been married to Emmeline for a month now, yet you still act like a bachelor.”
“I have my reasons.”
“They are foolhardy, then,” Jane said, dropping her hand to her side. “You need to be home with Emmeline. Your wife.”
“I am well aware that Emmeline is my wife,” he remarked dryly.
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Then act like it,” she declared.
Oliver frowned. “As usual, I have enjoyed our little chat, but I would like to go speak to Emmeline now.”
“That is the first intelligent thing you have said this whole conversation.”
As Oliver walked past her, Jane shook her head at her brother. He was a fool. He had a doting wife, but he was too selfish to give her any heed. He only seemed to care about gambling and drinking with his friends. She truly hoped he realized how lucky he was before it was too late.
The heavyset butler spoke up. “May I get you something, Lady Jane?”
“No, thank you.”
With a kind smile, Pratt commented, “I couldn’t help noticing that you seem distracted.”
“My brother is just so…” Her words trailed off as she tried to think of the right word, “Vexing.”
Pratt wisely did not comment, just tipped his head in acknowledgement.
“If you will excuse me, I need to change before Lady Hawthorne and I leave for the orphanage,” Jane said as she started walking backwards.
Jane turned on her heel and headed up the stairs. She walked down the hall, which was lined with portraits, and stopped by her brothers’ pictures. Their appearances may be similar, but that is where the similarities ended.
Baldwin left shortly after the death of their father and had stayed away for three years. Even though he was vague on where he had been, he still embraced his role of husband to Madalene. Whereas Oliver was still a despicable cad, and she feared that nothing was going to change that. Not even for Emmeline.
She continued down the hall to her bedchamber and opened the door. She had decorated her room with pale purple paper on the walls, a four-poster bed, and a velvet camelback settee that sat in front of the hearth.
Her petite, blonde lady’s maid was busy cleaning up her dressing table, but glanced up when she walked into the room. “Are you ready to change, my lady?”
“I am.”
Susan straightened up and walked over to the bed. “I selected a pale blue gown for your visit to the orphanage,” she shared, holding up the gown for her inspection. “I hope that pleases you.”
“It does.”
“I assumed you would want to dress in something simple for your visit with the girls.”
“You would be right.”
After she dressed, Jane sat at her dressing table so Susan could style her hair.
Susan removed the pins from Jane’s hair and placed them on the dressing table, then started to brush out her brown tresses.
“Did you enjoy boxing this morning?” her lady’s maid asked.
“I did,” she replied, “but I pale in comparison to Madalene.”
“Is that so?”
Jane nodded. “Madalene has been boxing for years.”
“Then you must not be too hard on yourself.”
“It is hard not to,” she replied. “I have yet to land a well-timed blow on her.”
&
nbsp; Susan twisted Jane’s hair as she styled it in a chignon. “Patience has never been one of your virtues, has it?” she teased.
“No, it has not.”
“Are you pleased with your hair?” Susan asked, stepping back.
Jane turned to the side to look at her reflection in the mirror. “It’s perfect,” she replied. “I believe you have properly transformed me into a teacher.”
“I think it’s admirable that you will be teaching the girls at the orphanage.”
“It’s only until a proper teacher can be found.”
“Regardless, it is most generous of you.”
“It’s the least I can do to help Madalene,” Jane replied.
Susan walked over to a table and picked up a blue reticule with white lace along the top. She walked it over to Jane. “Will there be anything else?” she asked.
Jane accepted the reticule and slipped it over her right wrist. “Is my muff pistol in here?”
“It is.” Susan gave her a curious look. “Does your family know you started carrying a pistol in your reticule?”
“They do not.”
“Do you think they would disapprove?”
“I know they would.”
“Then why do you have one?”
Jane gave a half-shrug. “I want to be able to defend myself, should the need ever arise.” She walked over to the door and opened it. “I shall be back later this evening,” she informed her lady’s maid.
As she walked down the hall, Jane knew her family all too well, which is why she never told them she had started carrying a muff pistol on her person. She felt safer with it, and she had no intention of stopping.
Chapter Two
After only a few hours of sleep, Corbyn walked towards Hawthorne House. He was dreading the upcoming conversation with Lord Hawthorne. Hannity had worked many assignments with them in the past, and Corbyn wanted to be the one to inform Baldwin of his death.
He had learned long ago that it wasn’t wise to form attachments with others, especially with agents. It made you vulnerable, and he refused to be vulnerable with anyone. He didn’t have that luxury. If he made a mistake, then people could die. He could die. It was a risk he was not willing to take.
However, the sting of Hannity’s death hadn’t gone away yet. Frankly, he wasn’t entirely sure if it would. He had considered Hannity a friend, and he’d trusted him with his life. They had gone on many assignments together, including the one in France. The one that had drastically changed him into a hardened man. They had made many mistakes on that assignment, resulting in one of their own agents being killed.
Corbyn walked alongside the high, black iron fence that surrounded Hawthorne House and admired the rectangular building and its two protruding wings.
“Good morning, milord,” a guard greeted him, moving to unlock the gate to Hawthorne House.
“Good morning,” he replied.
The guard opened the gate wide, and Corbyn stepped through. He walked across the cobblestone courtyard and approached the main door.
After knocking on the door, he stepped back and waited. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait for too long.
Pratt greeted him with his usual stiff smile. “Good morning, Lord Evan,” he said, opening the door wide. “Please come in.”
Corbyn stepped into the expansive entry hall. “Is Lord Hawthorne available for callers this morning?”
“He is,” the butler confirmed. “He is in the study. Would you care for me to announce you?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
As he crossed the entry hall, he saw Lady Jane descending the stairs, dressed in a pale blue gown, which complemented her shapely figure nicely. Her brown hair was pulled back at her neck and small curls framed her face. She was a remarkably beautiful young woman with her fair skin, oval face, and full lips. But there was something in her eyes that had always intrigued him. They were expressive and, from the first day they met, they spoke to him, revealing her wit and intellect.
“Lord Evan,” she said politely. “What a pleasant surprise.”
He stopped and offered a slight bow. “Lady Jane. How are you this morning?”
“I am well.” She stepped off the last stair and approached him. “I assume you are here to see my brother.”
“I am.”
“He has been in his study nearly all morning,” she revealed.
“Is that so?”
Jane smiled, transforming her lovely face into something extraordinary. “I believe it has something to do with the upcoming vote in the House of Lords.”
Corbyn kept his face expressionless as he remarked, “I would imagine that to be the case.”
“Do you intend on attending Lady Charlotte’s soirée this evening?”
“Unfortunately, I have other plans.”
Jane glanced over her shoulder before confessing, “I must admit that I envy you.”
“You do?”
“My mother insists that I attend all these social events until I have secured a match,” she shared. “It can be rather exhausting.”
“I would imagine that would be the case.” He had to admit that the thought of Lady Jane finding a match did not sit well with him.
“If I am being truthful, I would rather remain at home, reading a good book.”
“Is that so?”
She was about to respond but her mouth snapped shut when Oliver came to stand next to her.
Oliver spoke up. “Good morning, Corbyn.”
“Good morning,” he replied.
Oliver turned towards his sister. “You are looking especially lovely this morning.”
A flash of annoyance came to Jane’s face. “Thank you,” she remarked dryly.
The tension in the room was palpable as Oliver shifted his gaze towards him. “I was about to go speak with Baldwin,” Oliver shared, “would you care to join me?”
“I would.”
“Excellent.” Oliver started walking down a narrow hall towards the study.
Corbyn bowed. “It was a pleasure to see you again, Lady Jane.”
She dropped into a curtsy. “Likewise, Lord Evan.”
“And I find that I must agree with your brother,” he remarked. “You are looking especially lovely this morning.”
A small, barely discernable blush came to her cheeks. “That is kind of you to say, my lord.”
As much as he wanted to linger, he knew it was not his right. He had no desire to form an attachment with Lady Jane. She was good and kind, everything that he was not. Besides, he had no intention of ever taking a wife. That would just complicate his life, and he didn’t need any more complications.
With a parting look at Jane, he headed towards the study. The door was open and he stepped inside. Baldwin sat at his desk with ledgers open in front of him, and Oliver had claimed a seat on the settee.
“Good morning,” Corbyn greeted as he closed the door.
Baldwin glanced up and grunted. “What is so good about it?”
Corbyn glanced over at Oliver, who just gave him a shrug of his shoulders in response. “Whatever is the matter?”
“I tire of this endless task,” Baldwin said, waving his hands over the ledgers.
“Then hire a man of business.”
“I employ one, but I still need to review the ledgers.”
“You could always ask Jane to handle that task,” Oliver interjected.
“Jane?” Corbyn questioned.
Oliver nodded. “Jane handled all of the financial matters of the estate when Baldwin was on his assignment, and she did so brilliantly.”
“Is that so?”
Baldwin closed one of the ledgers. “It’s true,” he replied. “She nearly doubled our profits, and expanded our holdings exponentially.”
“That is quite impressive,” Corbyn admitted.
“Jane is a woman of many talents,” Baldwin said.
Oliver huffed. “A woman who blatantly dislikes me.”
Walking over to the ch
air next to Oliver, Corbyn sat down. “But it is for a worthy cause.”
“That is true,” Oliver sighed. “We must put our duty ahead of our own wants.”
“Father was wise to have ingrained that into us at such a young age,” Baldwin said, rising.
Oliver’s voice grew reflective. “That he was.”
Baldwin walked over to the settee and sat down next to Oliver. His next question was directed towards Corbyn. “What brings you by this morning?”
Corbyn grew solemn. “I must admit that I come bearing bad news.”
“Is that so?” Baldwin asked cautiously.
He paused. “Hannity was killed last night.”
Baldwin’s brow shot up. “He was?”
“I hadn’t received an update from him in a few days, so I went to investigate, and I found his body,” Corbyn shared. “He had been shot and pushed out of the window of his rented room.”
“Do you have any leads?” Oliver asked.
“The bystanders were useless,” Corbyn said, “and no one saw anything.”
Baldwin frowned. “That doesn’t surprise me. They usually are.”
“Before the constable arrived, I went to his room, which was in shambles,” he revealed. “It was evident that a fight had occurred.”
“But no one heard anything?” Oliver pressed.
“There wasn’t enough time for me to speak to his neighbors, but I intend to seek out the magistrate over the case and ask to review the notes.”
Baldwin leaned forward in his seat. “Who would want to kill Hannity?”
“I can think of a lot of people,” Corbyn said, “but Hannity was clever. I am sure someone ambushed him because he wouldn’t have accepted his fate willingly.”
“Was he on an assignment?” Baldwin asked.
“He was,” Corbyn confirmed, “but he had determined the radical group was not a threat to England. So there were no pending arrests.”
“What about his past assignments?” Oliver questioned.
“Possibly,” Corbyn replied, “but I found a note addressed to me in Hannity’s room.”
Baldwin furrowed his brows. “Who was it from?”
“It was unsigned, but it said that Hannity deserved to die, as do I,” Corbyn said. “I must assume that it was from Hannity’s killer.”
“I would agree,” Baldwin stated. “Although, I am baffled as to why the murderer would leave a note for you at the scene of the crime.”