by Beers, Laura
Stewart spoke up. “Could you show us what building you went into on Dupress Street?”
“That’s easy,” Sanders replied. “It has a worn sign above the door that says ‘Worthington’s Furniture Store’.”
“That should be simple enough to distinguish,” Stewart responded, glancing over at the window. “But it might be best if we raid it tomorrow.”
“I agree,” Corbyn said. “It’s getting rather late, and I need to assemble a team to ensure we are not outnumbered.”
“I could go,” Sanders suggested.
“I think not,” Corbyn stated. “It would be best if you stayed home tomorrow to rest.”
“No, that isn’t necessary—”
“That is an order, Agent,” Corbyn barked.
“Yes, sir,” Sanders muttered.
A serving wench sauntered over. “Can I get ye anything else?”
“I want you to get this man anything he requires.” Corbyn indicated Sanders, then retrieved a few coins from his waistcoat pocket and extended them to her.
Her eyes lit up when she saw the coins. “I’d be happy to do so, Mister,” she said.
Corbyn pushed back his chair and rose. “If you will excuse me, I need to get back to work.”
“May I walk with you?” Stewart asked, rising.
“I would be honored.”
After they exited the pub, Stewart glanced over at him. “What’s the plan?”
“The plan?”
“Yes. When do you want to raid the building on Dupress Street?” Stewart questioned eagerly.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“You will?”
Corbyn nodded as he put his hand up to signal a hackney. “I have more than enough available agents to handle this.”
Stewart turned to face him, then said, “I don’t doubt that, but I would like to see this assignment through.”
“It could be dangerous,” Corbyn warned.
“We just saved a man from a building rigged with explosives,” Stewart remarked.
“True,” Corbyn said as a hackney came to a stop in front of him. “Meet me at my townhouse tomorrow at nine.”
Stewart opened the door to the coach. “Can I get a lift across Town?”
“I am only going as far as Hawthorne House.”
“May I join you that far, then?”
Corbyn bobbed his head. “Yes, you may.”
After they were situated in the hackney, Stewart asked, “How many agents do you intend to bring in on this assignment?”
“Just one more.”
With a baffled look, Stewart asked, “Do you truly believe that will be enough?”
“I do.”
Stewart glanced out the window as he muttered, “Why are agents so blasted sure of themselves?”
“And Runners aren’t?” Corbyn asked knowingly.
Bringing his gaze back, Stewart smirked. “Fair enough, but why not bring ten agents when you raid the building?”
“That would attract far too much attention,” Corbyn replied. “I am confident that three of us can handle the task.”
“Why do you have so much faith in this other agent?”
“I have worked with him before, and I trust him with my life.”
“That is good, I suppose.”
“Besides, I have a strong feeling that the building has been abandoned by the thugs who took Sanders.”
Stewart sighed. “I’d imagine that to be the case, as well.”
A comfortable silence descended over them until the hackney came to a stop in front of Hawthorne House.
“Is Lord Oliver the other agent you are bringing tomorrow?” Stewart asked curiously.
Corbyn smiled. “No, I plan to bring an agent out of retirement.”
Stewart’s eyes grew wide as the realization dawned on him. “Are you implying Lord Hawthorne used to be an agent?”
“I’m not implying anything.” Corbyn opened the door, stepped outside and extended a few coins to the driver.
Stewart came to stand next to him. “I can’t believe a blasted marquess was an agent.”
“He was one of the best,” Corbyn shared. “But if you tell anyone, they will be the last words you ever speak.”
Stewart put up his hand. “I believe I have proven I am trustworthy, so there’s no reason to threaten me.”
“I apologize,” Corbyn said, glancing over at him. “It’s just second nature by now.”
Stewart laughed. “Good night, Lord Evan.”
“Call me Corbyn.”
Stewart’s eyes flickered with surprise before he tipped his head. “Good night, Corbyn.”
After Stewart walked off, Corbyn walked over to the guard. “I am here to see Lord Hawthorne.”
The guard opened the gate and Corbyn approached Hawthorne House. After he was received by the butler, he stepped into the entry hall and waited for Pratt to announce him.
Jane stepped out from the drawing room, and her eyes lit up when she saw him. Or had he just imagined that?
“Lord Evan,” Jane greeted with a tip of her head. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“You are looking especially lovely today,” he said as he perused her white gown with its blue sash.
“Thank you.” Jane clasped her hands in front of her. “May I speak to you for a moment, my lord?”
“You may.”
“This matter is most private,” she said in a low voice. “Would you mind if we speak in the drawing room?”
“Of course not.”
Jane spun back around and stepped further into the drawing room. He followed behind her, careful to maintain proper distance between them.
As Jane turned to face him, he detected an adorable blush on her cheeks, and had the sudden urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Thankfully, he was in control of his senses.
“Lord Evan,” Jane began. “I wanted to say…” Her voice trailed off.
He took a step closer to her. “Yes?” he encouraged.
Tilting her chin determinedly, she replied, “I am unsure if you are aware, but I hold you in high regard.”
Corbyn frowned at her words. “We shouldn’t discuss such matters.”
“No?” she asked as a line between her brow appeared. “Am I wrong to assume that you also hold me in some affection?”
“It matters not what I feel.”
“It doesn’t?”
Corbyn sighed. “Nothing can ever happen between us.”
“Why must that be?”
Corbyn ran a hand through his hair as he attempted to formulate his response. “I care for you, Jane, more than I should,” he admitted.
A smile came to her lips. “That’s wonderful news.”
“It isn’t, because I can never act on my feelings.”
Her eyes were full of questions. “But if you care for me, and I care for you, then—”
He spoke over her. “It’s not that simple.”
“No?”
Taking another step closer, he gently placed his hands on her shoulders. “There is no future between you and me,” he asserted. “You must understand that.”
“I don’t accept that,” she said, her eyes pleading with him.
“Regardless, I cannot give you the life you deserve.”
“If this is because you are the second son, I don’t care about that,” she remarked firmly. “I just want to be with you.”
Corbyn felt his defenses weakening as he remained close to her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and claim her as his own. But he couldn’t do that to her. It wouldn’t be fair, because he would have to eventually let her go.
Dropping his hands to his sides, he said curtly, “I’m sorry, but I can’t be with you. You must accept that.”
Tears came to her eyes as she stared up at him, but she blinked them back vehemently. He could tell that she was trying to be brave. “I understand,” she murmured. “Please excuse me.”
Jane brushed past him and hurried out of the room
. He felt terrible about his callous treatment of her, but he had no choice. He knew he couldn’t give her the life that she needed, that she deserved.
Corbyn stared at the empty doorway for a moment until Baldwin appeared in it. He gave Corbyn a questioning look. “Do you want to explain to me why my sister just ran from this room in tears?”
“I do not.”
“Corbyn—”
“I don’t care to discuss it.”
Baldwin stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “Then perhaps you should explain why you are here.”
“I want you to come out of retirement and assist me on this case.”
“You do?”
“I need someone I can completely trust to help with this assignment,” Corbyn said.
Baldwin nodded. “It would be my privilege.”
“Good,” Corbyn replied. “I should note that we found Sanders.”
“You did?”
“He was tied up in a building in the rookeries that was rigged with explosives,” Corbyn revealed.
“That sounds like quite the adventure.”
“It was, but I fear it will only get worse from here, especially if Kerley is truly involved.”
Baldwin smirked. “Then we should get to work.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
The next morning, Corbyn sat in his study as he waited for Baldwin and Stewart to arrive. He was attempting yet again to read through his never-ending pile of correspondence, but his mind kept straying to the hurt look on Jane’s face from the night before. It was like a piercing dagger to his heart. But it mattered not. She deserved someone better than him, someone who could be completely honest with her.
Corbyn knew it had taken great courage on her part to confess her feelings to him, and he greatly admired her for that. He also couldn’t help but remember how perfectly she fit into his arms when they’d danced at the ball. How could he have not fallen for such a lovely creature? She was everything he had ever envisioned in a wife, and much, much more. However, his life was not conducive to having a wife. That was the simple truth.
So why couldn’t he stop thinking about Jane? Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her enchanting face, or he heard her voice in his head at the most inopportune times.
He slammed his fist onto his desk. “Blazes,” he muttered.
Baldwin’s amused voice came from the doorway. “Is this a bad time?”
Bringing his gaze up, Corbyn replied, “No, do come in.”
“May I ask what has you so preoccupied?” Baldwin asked as he stepped further into the room.
“It’s this case,” he lied.
Baldwin eyed him curiously. “I haven’t known you to become emotional about a case before,” he said as he placed his hand on the back of a chair.
“Emotions can get you killed.”
“Precisely my point.”
Corbyn shot him an annoyed look. “I do not wish to be scrutinized by you.”
“It is merely an observation.”
Frowning, Corbyn replied, “I would prefer it if you would focus on the case.”
“I can do both,” Baldwin said. “Besides, I can’t help but wonder if you are distracted by my sister.”
Corbyn tensed at his friend’s remark.
Baldwin chuckled. “I would be blind if I didn’t notice the growing attraction between you and Jane.”
“Nothing untoward is going on between us, if you must know.”
“I believe you, but I can’t help but wonder, why?”
“Pardon?” Corbyn hadn’t expected that.
Baldwin looked at him knowingly. “You deserve to be happy, Corbyn.”
“No, I don’t,” he replied. “Besides, I couldn’t give Jane the life she deserves.”
“Why do you say that?”
Corbyn huffed. “I run an agency that doesn’t technically exist,” he stated. “My entire existence is based upon a lie.”
“You could always tell Jane the truth.”
“That is impossible,” Corbyn said with a shake of his head.
“Why?”
“Even if I wanted to, which I don’t,” Corbyn began, “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”
“Now I know that you are mad.”
“No, I am trying to help you recognize that it isn’t as impossible as you are leading yourself to believe.”
Corbyn rose from his chair and walked over to his window. He stared out over the gardens, then said, “I am not worthy of your sister. I have done too many terrible things to even consider myself worthy of a happy life.”
“As have I,” Baldwin responded, “but I was still blessed with Madalene.”
“You were lucky.”
“I agree, but I still had to fight for her.”
“It matters not, because I told Jane that there could be no future between us.”
“Is that why Jane ran out of the drawing room in tears last night?”
“It was,” he confirmed.
Baldwin pushed off from the chair and sighed. “It isn’t too late to change your mind.”
“It would be better if Jane was far away from me.”
Baldwin nodded. “True, but falling in love can be a tricky thing.”
“Love?” Corbyn repeated. “I never said I was in love with Jane.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Before Corbyn could respond, Rudd stepped into the room and met his gaze. “A Mr. Stewart is here to call upon you, milord,” he announced.
“Please send him in.”
Baldwin gave him a questioning look. “Stewart will be accompanying us today?”
“I gave him permission to do so.”
“That is rather interesting, since you loathe Bow Street Runners so much,” Baldwin teased.
“I do, but Stewart isn’t as terrible as I was once led to believe.”
Stewart’s amused voice came from the doorway. “What a wonderful endorsement.”
Corbyn gestured towards Stewart and provided the introductions. “Lord Hawthorne, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Guy Stewart.”
Stewart tipped his head. “It is an honor to meet you, my lord.”
Baldwin nodded in response.
As Corbyn came around his desk, he said, “I hope you have enough pistols on your persons, because we have no idea what threat we are facing.”
“That sounds encouraging,” Stewart muttered.
“Don’t fret,” Corbyn said. “I put the building under surveillance, and I just received word that no one has been seen coming or going from the structure.”
“Have you considered that this could be a trap?” Baldwin asked.
“I have,” Corbyn replied, “but we have no other leads at this time. We must investigate the building.”
Baldwin gestured towards the door. “Then, by all means, lead the way.”
After they were situated in the coach, Stewart asked, “What is the plan?”
“I will go first,” Corbyn said, “and ensure it is safe for you both to enter.”
“Isn’t that risky?” Stewart questioned. “You could be shot the moment you set foot into that building.”
“I doubt Kerley will make that play.”
“Why do you say that?” Stewart pressed.
Corbyn glanced over at Baldwin. “It would appear that Kerley is determined to ensure that I suffer for my past transgressions.”
“What exactly did you do to this man?” Stewart inquired.
Corbyn pressed his lips together. “The unthinkable.”
“Which was?”
“We went on an assignment together in France, and I left him for dead,” Corbyn admitted.
“You did?”
“Kerley had been slashed along his face and shot in the chest,” Corbyn shared. “I truly thought he was dead, and I had to think about the other agents. If we had stayed a moment longer, we all would have been killed.”
Stewart b
obbed his head. “I understand.”
“There is not a night that I don’t regret leaving Kerley behind,” Corbyn said, his hands tightening into fists.
“You made the right call,” Baldwin remarked.
“Then why do I feel as if I didn’t?” Corbyn turned his attention towards the window and retreated to his own thoughts. How he wished he could go back and save his fallen comrade.
It wasn’t long before the coach came to a jerking stop and a footman came to open the door. As Corbyn exited, he saw one of his agents approach him.
“Good morning, Brooks,” Corbyn greeted.
“Good morning,” Brooks responded as he came to a stop in front of him. “As I stated in my missive, no one has come in or out of the building since last evening.”
“That is most unfortunate,” Stewart said.
“I would agree,” Corbyn replied. “They might have abandoned the structure after we rescued Sanders.”
Brooks gestured towards a building further up the street. “If you would like, I would be happy to enter first.”
“That won’t be necessary. I intend to be the first one to enter,” Corbyn said.
“As you wish,” Brooks responded as he took a step back.
Baldwin spoke up. “Is there a back entrance?”
Brooks nodded. “Yes, it leads to the alleyway.”
“Will you show me?” Baldwin asked.
“I’d be happy to,” Brooks replied.
Baldwin turned his attention towards Corbyn. “I’ll meet you in there,” he said.
“Be safe,” Corbyn urged.
Baldwin smirked. “Aren’t I always?”
“No, you aren’t,” Corbyn joked. “Hence my reminder to be safe.”
After Baldwin and Brooks walked off, Corbyn glanced over at Stewart. “Let’s head to the main entrance.”
They cautiously approached the building, pistols drawn. Corbyn’s alert eyes scanned the windows, looking for any sign of movement on the inside.
He stopped outside of the main door and whispered, “I’ll go first.”
“I’m right behind you.”
“That isn’t wise.”
“I am well aware of the risks.”
Corbyn gave him an approving nod as he went to open the door. He stepped inside of the building and heard nothing. It was eerily quiet.
He advanced further inside, the only sound the noise of their boots on the wood. They searched each room and found nothing that indicated this was the location for forging banknotes.