AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Thank you, Corbyn.”
“But after this assignment, you are finished working as an agent,” Corbyn said, leveling his stern gaze at him. “Do we have a deal?”
“I suppose I have no other option.”
Corbyn rose from behind his desk. “Go home, Falcon,” he encouraged. “You have been gone for far too long.”
Stepping away from the window, Baldwin admitted, “I suppose it is time.”
“I can’t help but notice that you seem reluctant.”
Baldwin nodded. “I am. I’m not sure if I’m ready to go back.”
Corbyn came around his desk and said, “Take all the time you need. I have to leave to interrogate a suspect.”
“Do you require any assistance?” Baldwin asked hopefully.
“Thank you for the offer, but I can handle this suspect on my own,” Corbyn replied as he walked over to the door. He placed his hand on the handle and stopped. “I believe it is time for you to face your past so you can embrace the future.”
Baldwin lifted his brow. “Since when did you get so sentimental?”
“A lot has changed since you have been gone,” Corbyn said. “I do find it odd that you can go undercover in France for three years, but you are too scared to return to your own townhouse. A rather remarkable townhouse, I might add.”
“I have my reasons.”
“And no doubt they are foolhardy,” Corbyn quipped.
Baldwin winced. “You are right.”
“Of course I am right,” Corbyn said. “I wasn’t offered this position because of my good looks.”
With a shake of his head, Baldwin remarked, “You are entirely too full of yourself.”
“With good reason, like the fact that I’m not afraid to go home,” Corbyn joked.
“I will go, but only because I tire of this conversation,” Baldwin said, closing the distance between them.
“That is a good enough reason for me.”
Baldwin sat inthe filthy hackney as it made its way towards Hawthorne House. He was dreading going home. It wasn’t long after his father had died that he had accepted the assignment to join a group of royalists in France. But a month-long mission turned into three years.
The hackney lurched to a stop in front of a high black iron gate. A guard approached the driver and asked, “What business do you have with us?”
The driver shouted down, “This fellow paid me to take him to Hawthorne House.”
“It is too late for callers,” the guard declared, taking a step back. “Be gone with you.”
Baldwin put his hand through the open window and pushed down the handle. As he stepped onto the pavement, he said, “I would like admittance to my own home, if you don’t mind.”
The guard’s eyes grew wide. “Lord Hawthorne,” he responded, clearly stunned. “Yes, of course. Give me a moment.”
The guard rushed to the gate, unlocked it and pushed it open. Baldwin reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and removed a few coins, then extended them towards the driver.
“Thank you, milord,” the driver said with a tip of his hat.
After the driver deposited the coins into his pocket, he urged the hackney forward and disappeared down the darkened street.
Baldwin stepped into the cobblestone courtyard and took a moment to admire Hawthorne House. It was a rectangular building with two protruding wings. The doors and windows had gold embellishments around the frames, and a large portico hung over the door.
