Page 15 of A Dangerous Lord (Regency Spies & Secrets 3)

Oliver.

He was dressed in a brown jacket with matching trousers, his cravat was slightly skewed, and his brown hair was slicked to the side.

Where was he going? And what was he doing in this part of town? Well, there was only one way to figure that out.

Without fully thinking through the repercussions of her actions, Jane raced out of the room, down the stairs and through the main door. She stepped off the stoop and started following Oliver as he continued down the street.

Chapter Three

Dressed in anunassuming grey jacket with dark trousers, Corbyn sat in the hackney as it rolled towards the docks. A pungent odor drifted off the sticky floor, but he didn’t pay it much heed. A foul-smelling coach was the least of his concerns at the moment.

He intended to meet with one of his informants, and he hoped Miss Polly had heard something about Hannity’s death. Miss Polly was a lady of ill-repute who ran a brothel by the docks. She was in the unique position of garnering information from a wide assortment of men, and he paid her handsomely for it.

Corbyn had met Miss Polly when he first started working as an agent and she had just opened her business. He had discovered a suspect was frequenting the brothel and approached Miss Polly for help in apprehending him. From there, a friendship of sorts formed, and he was quick to recognize that this could be a mutually beneficial relationship.

The hackney came to a stop and Corbyn stuck his hand out through the open window to open the door. As he stepped onto the road, his eyes scanned the darkened buildings, and he smelled the strong odor wafting off the Thames.

Corbyn turned his attention towards the driver and extended him a few coins.

“Thank you, Mister,” the driver said as he accepted the coins. “Would you care for me to wait for you?”

“That won’t be necessary,” he replied.

“Are you sure?” the driver asked in a wary voice. “This is hardly a place for a gentleman such as you.”

Corbyn tugged down on his grey jacket. “I assure you that I will be fine, but I thank you for your concern.”

“I wish you luck, then.” The driver tipped his head and flicked the reins. As the hackney merged into traffic, Corbyn headed towards a dilapidated brick building.

A muscular man with fading black hair was standing guard at the front of the building, and his eyes tracked Corbyn as he approached. Donnelly was responsible for ensuring the girls were not hurt by any of the patrons, and he took his job very seriously.

“Good afternoon,” Donnelly acknowledged.

Stopping in front of the guard, he replied, “Good afternoon, Donnelly.”

“I haven’t seen you in a few weeks, Bryan.”

He smiled at the use of his alias. “I’ve been busy.”

Donnelly chuckled. “I have no doubt that Miss Polly will be happy to see you,” he said. “After all, you are one of her favorite clients.”

“I am pleased to hear that.”

Donnelly opened the door for him. “I hope you have an enjoyable time.”

“I’m sure I will.”

He stepped into the dimly lit entry hall and was greeted by a woman and her scandalously low neckline. She had a smile on her face, but it appeared strained.

“Are you looking for a good time, Mister?” she asked flirtatiously.

“I am,” he said, playing along.

She stepped closer to him and placed a hand brazenly on his chest. “I would be happy to assist you, unless you are looking for someone in particular.”

“I was hoping for Miss Polly.”

The woman’s lips dropped into a pout as she lowered her hand. “That is a shame.” She turned on her heel and said, “If you follow me, I will show you to her room.”

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