Page 27 of A Dangerous Lord (Regency Spies & Secrets 3)

The compliment elicited a tender smile. “That was kind of you to say, but I still insist that you begin taking the prospect of matrimony seriously.”

“I understand,” Jane said, rising, “but I can’t promise I will find a match this Season, or even the next.”

“It is most important that you choose wisely,” her mother encouraged. “You must find someone who will accept you for who you truly are, because you are uniquely perfect.”

“Thank you for that, Mother.” Jane walked over to the door and opened it. “I assume this means that you expect me to attend Lady Greenan’s ball tomorrow evening.”

“That is correct.”

Jane let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. “I hate balls.”

“That does not surprise me, since you have always made it abundantly clear that you hate balls, house parties, and any type of social gathering,” her mother teased.

“At least I am consistent,” Jane joked.

“That you are, but you are most fortunate that you never lack for dance partners at these social events.”

“Sometimes that is a blessing and a curse,” she joked.

As Jane departed the drawing room, she realized that she wasn’t surprised by her mother’s decree. It had been forthcoming for a while, but she truly had no desire to marry at this time. No one had ever sparked her interest except for the one person she knew she could never have.

Lord Evan.

But she wasn’t foolish enough to pursue her feelings. He had a commanding presence about him, and a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Why would he ever be interested in someone like her?

The sun hadset long before Corbyn made his way to his whitewashed three-level townhouse on the edge of the fashionable part of Town. He hurried up the three steps and opened the door. Immediately, he was greeted by his stodgy butler, Rudd.

“Good evening, milord,” Rudd said as he approached him. “Have you eaten yet?”

“I have not.”

“Very good,” he replied. “I shall request a tray to be brought to your study.”

Corbyn nodded his approval as he extended his top hat towards the butler. “Thank you.”

Rudd stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Lord Shipston is in your office,” he informed him.

“My brother is here?” Corbyn attempted to hide the displeasure from his voice.

“He is.”

Corbyn stifled the groan that came to his lips. No good ever came from conversing with his brother. They were two vastly different people, and they never seemed to see eye to eye. Part of that was due to the fact that his family thought he held a lowly position within the Home Office. They thought it was beneath him, and their family.

“I shall go see to my brother,” Corbyn said as he walked across the tiled entry hall.

As he stepped into his study, he saw his brother was standing next to the window, looking out upon the modest gardens.

“To what do I owe this great pleasure?” Corbyn asked as he closed the door behind him. He wanted his conversation to stay private.

His tall, lanky brother turned around to face him. “I have come on Mother’s behalf.”

“You have?” Corbyn asked as he walked over to the drink cart.

“I have,” Simon replied. “She wants you to come home.”

Corbyn picked up the decanter and removed the stopper. “I am not interested.”

Simon’s eyes roamed the square study with its woodwork dominating most of the room, and the disgust was evident on his face. “I know your paltry income from the Home Office pays for this…” he hesitated, frowning, “townhouse, but you are the son of a duke.”

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