Page 94 of A Dangerous Lord (Regency Spies & Secrets 3)

“Why was I not informed immediately?” Oliver questioned, his voice rising.

Corbyn gave him a knowing look. “Have you been home yet?”

“No.”

“I’m sure Baldwin will tell you straightaway.”

Oliver pulled out a chair and sat down. “And Stewart helped save Jane?”

Corbyn nodded. “He did,” he replied. “In fact, he was the one who apprehended the man.”

Oliver grew silent for a moment. “Is Jane all right?”

“By all accounts, she appears to be doing well.”

“For what purpose would someone attempt to abduct Jane?”

“To get to me, I’m afraid,” Corbyn admitted. “But I can assure you that your brother is keeping a close eye on Jane.”

“That is a relief.” Oliver shifted in his chair towards Stewart. “I believe I owe you an apology, then.”

“That isn’t necessary,” Stewart replied. “Fortunately, I was in the right place at the right time, and the suspect was terribly slow.”

“Thank you.” Oliver leaned to the side as a cup of coffee was placed in front of him.

Stewart ran his fingers over the top of his cup. “I suppose I could speak to the magistrate about your friends, as well.”

“You would do that?” Oliver asked.

“You could call it a professional courtesy,” Stewart responded with a smile.

Oliver took a sip of his coffee. “I would appreciate that.”

Corbyn cleared his throat. “I hate to end this profoundly sentimental moment, but I’m afraid I need to get back to work.” He rose, reached into his waistcoat, and pulled out a few coins, which he placed on the table. “Coffee is on me, gentlemen.”

“I will speak to my informants and inform you at once if I discover something of value,” Stewart said.

“As will I,” Corbyn replied.

Oliver tipped his head. “I’ll see you around, Corbyn.”

“Likewise,” Corbyn replied before he walked towards the door.

Chapter Thirteen

The sun hadset long ago as Corbyn sat at his desk and read through his correspondence, using only a candle as his source of light. It was a never-ending pile that he had to get through, and it only seemed to grow with each passing day.

Despite the repetitiveness of this aspect of his job, he took it no less seriously. It was his job to ensure the agents had the support they needed to be successful on their assignments. Lord Daniel had suggested he hire a secretary to assist him with correspondence, but he found he didn’t want to delegate this responsibility to anyone. Frankly, he didn’t trust anyone to be as thorough as he was.

There were very few people that he could fully trust. It was one of the downsides of his position. He had learned as a young agent that not everyone had your best interest at heart. There were some people who wanted to get ahead, no matter who they had to climb over.

After he finished reading the paper in his hand, he put it down and rifled through the remaining letters, looking for Sanders’ missive. He was hoping Sanders had found a lead on the forged banknotes, which would hopefully lead him to Kerley. But there wasn’t a missive from him, which was quite disconcerting.

“Barrett!” Corbyn shouted.

The door opened and a broad-shouldered man walked into the room. “Yes, Corbyn?”

“Have you heard from Sanders yet?”

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