Page 103 of A Dangerous Lord (Regency Spies & Secrets 3)

“But everyone knows that you are estranged from them.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care for them,” Corbyn said. “Besides, I am not estranged from my mother.”

Baldwin bobbed his head. “You make a good point.”

“To be cautious, I assigned two agents to guard their townhouse from any potential threats,” Corbyn shared.

“I believe that to be a wise decision.”

Corbyn gulped back the rest of his drink and left the empty glass on the mantel. “I tire of this game, especially since Kerley has the upper hand.”

“I have no doubt you will find him and end this madness.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

Baldwin held up his glass. “You’re welcome.”

Corbyn placed his hands on the mantel and leaned forward. “I still haven’t heard from Sanders,” he said.

“You haven’t?” Baldwin asked, growing solemn.

“Frankly, I am getting worried,” Corbyn admitted. “Perhaps I put him back into the field too soon.”

“You mustn’t think that way.”

“How am I supposed to think?” Corbyn asked. “I made it very clear to Sanders that he was to keep me posted on his progress.”

“You don’t think Kerley found him first?”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

Baldwin leaned forward and put his glass on the table in front of him. “Sanders is a competent agent,” he said. “He might have a good reason for not writing.”

“I hope so, because I can’t lose another agent.”

“You won’t.”

“I wish I had your confidence.” Corbyn straightened from the mantel. “On that note, I should go visit my father.”

“I wish you luck, then.”

“Thank you.”

Corbyn walked over to the door. “If you need anything,” Baldwin said, “all you have to do is ask.”

“I appreciate that, Baldwin,” Corbyn replied as he opened the door. He started walking towards the entry hall, hoping he would get another chance to speak to Jane, but he was not so lucky. She was nowhere to be found. Truth be told, he had stopped by Hawthorne House under the guise of speaking to Baldwin, but it was really to see Jane, even if only for a moment.

After he was situated in the coach, it lurched forward and departed from Hawthorne House. Due to light traffic, it wasn’t long before he arrived at his family’s townhouse.

The coach came to a jerking stop, and the footman stepped off his perch to open the door. Corbyn stepped onto the street and stared up at the townhouse. Would he ever be able to see this place without it bringing forth a wave of unpleasant memories?

The main door opened, and Mott greeted him. “Good morning, milord.”

“Good morning,” Corbyn replied as he stepped inside.

“Would you care for some breakfast?”

Corbyn removed his gloves and extended them towards the butler. “That won’t be necessary,” he said. “Is my mother available for callers?”

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