Page 95 of A Dangerous Lord (Regency Spies & Secrets 3)

The agent shook his head. “I have not.”

“That is troubling,” Corbyn admitted. “It has been two days since I received a correspondence from him.”

“He may have just gotten caught up in his assignment,” the agent suggested.

“Perhaps,” he muttered. “However, to be on the safe side, will you go to his place and see what you can discover?”

Barrett nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“I don’t want to lose another agent,” Corbyn asserted. “Not on my watch.”

“I understand.”

“Good,” Corbyn said, rising. “Now, if you will excuse me, I believe I shall retire for the evening.”

Barrett’s eyes strayed towards the window. “Isn’t it a little early for you to be retiring?”

“Not that it is any of your business,” Corbyn started, “but I intend to visit with my family this evening.”

“I wish you luck, then,” Barrett said before he departed from the room.

Corbyn collected the remaining correspondence and placed them in the pocket of his jacket. He still had more than enough work to keep him busy for the remainder of the evening, but he knew he needed to take time to see his father again.

He exited the building and secured a hackney. As he traveled to his father’s townhouse, he found himself dwelling on his father’s weak frame. It was a stark contrast to the domineering man who had raised him. He scoffed at that thought. His father had hardly been around enough to raise him and, when he was home, he spent most of his time with his brother, the heir.

His father had made it truly clear that he was not nearly as important as Simon. He was just the spare, the other son, an afterthought.

When he was young, he’d tried to win his father’s approval by any means necessary. He worked hard at everything that came his way. He excelled in his studies at Eton and then at Oxford. But it wasn’t enough for his father. It was never enough, making him feel as if he were not enough.

Then, he had been recruited to become an agent of the Crown and everything changed. He felt valued, important, and he finally found where he belonged. A band of brotherhood. He found his new home.

The hackney came to a stop in front of his father’s townhouse and he opened the door. He paid the driver and approached the house.

Corbyn opened the door and stepped inside. The butler greeted him in the entry hall. “Good evening, milord.”

“Is my mother still awake?”

His words had barely left his mouth when he saw his brother approach him with a drink in his hand. His cravat was undone, his hair tousled about, and his eyes were bloodshot.

“Oh, look who has finally returned,” Simon slurred. “The prodigal son has come home.”

“You’re drunk.”

Simon stopped in front of him. “I am no such thing,” he snapped. “I have merely been indulging in some brandy.”

“Is Mother still awake?”

“She is,” Simon confirmed. “She’s in the drawing room, but you should know that she’s very disappointed in me.”

“Why is that?”

Simon waved his hand in front of him. “For the most outlandish reasons,” he said. “It is all very childish, if you ask me.”

“Is that so?”

“Catherine retired to our country estate for the remainder of the Season,” Simon informed him. “Apparently, she took issue with me having a mistress.”

“I wonder why that is,” Corbyn muttered.

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