Page 133 of A Dangerous Lord (Regency Spies & Secrets 3)

“Will there be anything else?”

“That will be all,” Corbyn said.

“Very good,” Sanders remarked before he stepped back.

Corbyn stiffened, took a deep breath, then turned to the others. “It’s time.”

Baldwin placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t get yourself killed.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Corbyn muttered.

Oliver gave him a pointed look. “What Baldwin is attempting to say is that you should avoid doing anything too stupid.”

“That was much more inspiring,” Corbyn said.

“Do all agents give each other rousing talks before their assignments?” Stewart asked, amused.

Oliver chuckled. “I’m afraid not,” he replied, “but perhaps it’s a tradition we can start.”

“Do you have any questions about your assignments?” Corbyn asked.

All the men shook their heads.

“Good,” Corbyn said, “because we all know the risks involved.”

“We won’t let you down,” Baldwin stated.

“I know you won’t, but I hope we’re all still alive after this.”

“We will be,” Baldwin asserted.

Corbyn tipped his head in acknowledgement, then he started walking purposefully. It wasn’t long before he came to a stop outside the familiar building. His eyes roamed the faded brick, two-level structure, but he didn’t see any movement within.

He approached the main door, lifted his fist and pounded on it.

It wasn’t long before it was opened by a burly man with dark hair. He didn’t say anything as he opened the door wide, indicating that Corbyn should step inside.

Corbyn stepped into the building, and he didn’t react when the man slammed the door shut behind him.

“Give me your weapons,” the man ordered.

“I think not.”

The man stepped closer to him. “I have been ordered to collect your weapons before you can proceed any further.”

“And I respectfully decline your request.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“Fine.” Corbyn retrieved his pistol from the waistband of his trousers and extended it towards the man. “Will that be all?”

The man glanced down at his right boot. “And the one in your boot, if you don’t mind.”

Corbyn reached down and pulled out one of the muff pistols from his boot. He held it out to the man. “I believe this should be sufficient.”

The man accepted the pistols. “Follow me.”

Corbyn followed the man down a narrow passage towards the main hall. As they stepped in, he saw two chairs sitting in the middle of the room, facing one another. The only light came from two broken windows along the far wall.

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