Page 33 of A Dangerous Lord (Regency Spies & Secrets 3)

“No, I suppose not…” Lady Hawthorne said, her words trailing off. “I apologize for keeping you. I assume you came to see Baldwin.”

“That I did.”

“Then please, do not let me hold you up any longer.”

Corbyn smiled. “As usual, it was a pleasure to chat with you.”

“I do hope to see you at Lady Greenan’s ball,” Lady Hawthorne remarked. “Perhaps you would even consider saving a dance for Jane.”

“It would be my pleasure, assuming I attend.”

He tipped his head towards the dowager marchioness and headed towards the rear of the townhouse. The door to the study was closed, so he knocked on it.

“Enter,” he heard Baldwin say.

Corbyn opened the door and stepped into the room. He saw that the brothers were both sitting on settees near the fireplace. “I hope I am not intruding,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“Never,” Baldwin replied. “What brings you by this morning?”

Corbyn turned his attention towards Oliver, and his eyes perused his disheveled appearance. “I wanted to see how your assignment is progressing.”

“It’s going well,” Oliver said. “I have started gaining their trust, and they are bringing me into their confidences.”

“That’s good,” Corbyn praised.

“I intended to write you a missive before I took a soak, but Baldwin called me into his office,” Oliver informed him.

“I did,” Baldwin said, “because we have a problem.”

Oliver lifted his brow. “We do?”

Baldwin nodded. “Our dear sister saw you walking in the rookeries and decided to follow you to The Gutted Fish.”

Oliver’s eyes widened. “Why was she in the rookeries?”

“Jane was at the orphanage and saw you pass by,” Baldwin explained.

“What in the blazes was she thinking?” Oliver asked, his voice rising.

Baldwin glanced over at Corbyn, then revealed, “She wanted to discover where you have been disappearing to.”

“That is none of her business,” Oliver said firmly.

“We all agree, but Jane isn’t easily pacified,” Baldwin remarked. “I fear that she might become a liability if you keep going on as you are.”

“Meaning?” Oliver asked cautiously.

“You need to tell her a vague version of the truth,” Baldwin advised. “Keep it simple, but believable.”

“I daresay that wouldn’t be too hard, especially since she already thinks the worst of me,” Oliver muttered.

Corbyn came to sit down next to Baldwin on the settee. “Fortunately, I happened to be near the docks, so I escorted her back to the orphanage.”

Baldwin huffed. “Only after you saved her from two ruffians in the alleyway.”

“That is true,” Corbyn said, “but I found I enjoyed the bout of fisticuffs. I haven’t punched someone in ages.”

“You could always join me at my boxing club,” Baldwin suggested.

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