Page 54 of A Dangerous Lord (Regency Spies & Secrets 3)

“You work entirely too hard, and you need something or someone to distract you,” Baldwin said.

“A wife wouldn’t solve my problems, it would create a whole new host of them,” he responded firmly.

“I worry about you.”

“There is no reason to worry about me,” he countered. “I assure you that I am doing perfectly well on my own.”

Baldwin let out a sigh. “I used to think that, until I met my wife.”

“I am truly happy that you found Madalene, but we are on entirely different paths. I am running the agency, and you have taken up your seat in the House of Lords.”

“That may be true, but—”

Corbyn cut him off. “I would prefer if you dropped it.”

Baldwin tipped his head in acknowledgement and wisely did not press the ridiculous subject any longer.

“This is my stop,” Corbyn announced as he banged the top of the coach with his fist.

The coach halted and Corbyn quickly exited it. As he stepped onto the crowded street, he was forced to acknowledge that his friend meant well; but he had no desire to speak about matrimony.

A wife was not conducive to the life that he led. He worked entirely too much, and he barely spent any time at his townhouse. A wife would change all of that.

No.

He most definitely did not need a wife.

So why did the image of Jane come into his head? He enjoyed her company. She had a quick wit about her and didn’t shy away from speaking her mind. He smiled at that thought. No, she didn’t have any issue in regards to that.

As he approached a small, one-level red brick building on Greenwich Street, he saw Hobbs and Bond leaning their shoulders against the front of it. They gave the appearance they were loitering, but he was well aware that they were alert and waiting for the fight that might be brought to them.

He tipped his head at them as he passed through the main door. Sanders met him in the hall with files in his hand.

“These are the last of the files from your other office,” he explained as he opened a door. “And this is your new office, at least for the time being.”

Corbyn stepped into a square room with a small window along the back wall. A desk sat in the middle of the room and chairs were set up in front of the desk. “This will do,” he remarked.

Sanders placed the files down on his desk. “I will leave you to put these away and embark on my assignment.”

“I want you to be careful,” Corbyn said, giving him a pointed look. “Hannity’s killer struck again and murdered one of my informants.”

“Is that why you ran off earlier?”

Corbyn nodded. “It was,” he replied. “I didn’t want to believe it to be true, and I wanted to see it for myself.”

“Was the informant shot and thrown out of the window like Hannity?”

With a shake of his head, he replied, “No, her throat was slashed.”

Sanders winced. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“As am I,” Corbyn murmured.

A silence descended over them before Sanders spoke again. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No, but I want you to report to me on the status of your mission every night,” he ordered. “Do I make myself clear, Agent?”

“I understand,” Sanders replied as he headed towards the door.

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