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“The sad thing is that Jane isn’t wrong,” Oliver said as he sat down next to him. “Mother feels the same way.”
“Has Mother said something to you?”
Oliver shook his head. “No, but I can see it in her eyes.”
“We must put our duty ahead of our wants,” Baldwin said.
“I know, but…” His voice trailed off as a pained look came to his face. “Have you ever wished that we weren’t recruited out of Oxford to be agents?”
Baldwin lifted his brow. “No, but it would appear that you have.”
“I was supposed to be a barrister,” Oliver said. “I was even preparing to apply to one of the Inns of Court.”
“Do you regret becoming an agent?” Baldwin asked.
Oliver frowned. “That is a ticklish question.”
“Not really.”
“We must put our duty ahead of our own wants,” Oliver said as he rose. “I think I am just spouting nonsense because I’m tired.”
Baldwin gave his brother a concerned look. “Becoming lackadaisical can get you killed,” he pointed out.
“There is little chance of that,” Oliver remarked dryly. “I am just babysitting schoolboys who spout radical views.”
“Can you ask Corbyn to reassign you?”
“I have, but he said I was in the perfect position to spy on members of Society.”
“That is a shame.”
Oliver started walking backwards towards the door. “Not everyone is lucky enough to go undercover for three years and help French royalists during the war.”
After his brother left, Baldwin sat for a long moment. He hadn’t considered that his brother might harbor some feelings of jealousy towards him for his past assignments. They had taken such different paths after they were recruited to be agents.
A familiar voice came from the window. “I hadn’t realized that Oliver was not enjoying his cover to this extent.”
Baldwin glanced over and saw Corbyn was entering the breakfast parlor by way of the open window.
“Did my butler turn you away?”
Corbyn shook his head as he adjusted his white cravat. “I didn’t attempt to go to the main door.”
“Were you spying on our conversation?”
“It was unintentional,” Corbyn replied as he went and closed the door. “I wanted to speak to you, but I was unable to get your attention while your sister was in the room.”
“Again, you could have come by way of the main door.”
Corbyn stepped up to the buffet table and picked up a plate. “That would have been a waste of time,” he said as he piled eggs and bacon onto his plate.
“What is it that you wanted to speak to me about?”
Walking around the table, Corbyn sat down next to him. “Morton may be right about Desmond,” he shared.
“You found proof that he is stealing from the workhouses?”
“Not exactly, but the agent who reviewed the ledgers confirmed that the numbers appeared to be doctored, but has no proof,” Corbyn said. “We need to find the solicitor that Morton mentioned and speak to him.”
