Page 62 of A Dangerous Lord (Regency Spies & Secrets 3)

“Will you ensure the coach is brought out front?” he asked. “I intend to visit my father.”

“As you wish,” his butler replied before he departed to do his bidding.

Corbyn stared out the window as the sun slowly rose in the sky, illuminating the morning fog that lingered in the gardens. He hoped it wasn’t too early for him to call. He had no doubt that his mother would be awake. She had always been an early riser, much like him.

He let out a sigh. He would know soon enough if visiting his father was a mistake.

Chapter Nine

Corbyn stared upat his family’s townhouse on Grosvenor Street. He debated about ending this madness and returning to his office. Uneasiness swelled within him at the mere thought of conversing with his father.

“It’s better if I get this over with,” he muttered.

He walked towards the ebony door, which was promptly opened by the short, aging butler. Mott had been with the family for as long as he could remember.

“Good morning, milord,” Mott greeted warmly. “Welcome home.”

Corbyn tipped his head in acknowledgement as he stepped into the expansive entry hall, breathing in the familiar scent. His eyes roamed the black and white tiles that ran the length of the hall and the blue-papered walls. “It’s good to be home,” he lied. “Is my mother available?”

“Yes, she is in the breakfast parlor with Lord Shipston.”

“Very good.”

“Would you care for me to announce you?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Corbyn replied, the heel of his boots clipping along the tile floor as he headed towards the parlor.

His brother was sitting at the head of the table, reading a newspaper, his mother sitting to the right of him.

She gasped when she saw him. “Evan!” she said. “You came home.”

“I did,” he acknowledged as he walked further into the room.

Simon lowered a corner of the newspaper and offered him a cynical look. “It’s about time you showed up.”

“I’m afraid I’ve been rather busy.”

“Aren’t we all?” Simon scoffed, bringing the paper back up.

His mother smiled tenderly at him. “Would you care for something to eat?” she asked, gesturing towards the buffet table.

“I believe I would.” He stepped to the buffet table and a footman extended him a plate. After he served himself, he sat next to his mother.

She shifted in her seat to face him. “How are you this morning?”

“I am well.”

“You picked a good day to visit.”

“Why is that?”

“I checked in on your father this morning, and he was alert and attentive when I spoke to him,” she revealed.

“That is wonderful news,” Corbyn said as he picked up his fork.

Simon spoke over the top of the newspaper. “Have you decided to return home and do your duty?”

“I am doing my duty by working at the Home Office.”

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