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Corbyn interrupted again. “How?” he asked, his voice matching Baldwin’s in volume. “If that did happen, then we would have an even bigger problem. We would have a mole in the Alien Office.”
Baldwin ran a hand through his hair. “I just can’t seem to get a read on this young woman.”
“If Miss Dowding shows up again, then I think you might be able to make a case against her,” Corbyn remarked. “Until then, and I hate to say this, I believe it was just a coincidence.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Baldwin said gruffly.
“Usually, I don’t, either. But in this case, I do.”
Walking around his desk, Baldwin sat down in his chair. “You are probably right,” he agreed.
“You will find that I am generally right,” Corbyn stated, puffing out his chest. “It makes being in charge easier.”
“I see humility is not a requirement to lead.”
Corbyn smirked. “Not in the least,” he replied. “Now, back to the original reason I came to visit you at your modest townhouse.”
“Which is?”
The smile faded from Corbyn’s face. “A tip came in,” he said.
“Is it credible?”
“I vetted it myself,” Corbyn shared. “It would appear that the Queen’s Gambling Hall has been frequented by some radicals lately.”
“How would you know this?”
“Apparently, some of them had become quite inebriated and were kicked out,” Corbyn shared, “but not before they loudly shared their views with the other patrons.”
Leaning forward in his chair, Baldwin asked, “Do you think this is the group we are looking for?”
“Could be.”
Baldwin glanced towards the window and saw that the sun was starting to set. “I will depart immediately.”
“And forgo dinner?” Corbyn tsked.
“I can eat at the gambling hall.”
Corbyn placed his hand on the back of the chair. “That is a shame, especially since I have heard you employ a French cook.”
“We do,” Baldwin confirmed, rising. “My mother saw to that.”
“I would imagine gambling hall fare would pale in comparison to the dinner your French cook will serve.”
Baldwin adjusted his white cravat as he replied, “I would agree.”
Corbyn opened his mouth to respond but closed it when Jane walked into the room. Her expression was hard, but it softened when her eyes landed on Corbyn.
“Lord Evan,” Jane greeted politely. “I hadn’t realized you were here.”
Corbyn bowed. “Lady Jane. You are looking as lovely as ever.”
A barely discernable blush came to Jane’s cheeks as she smiled at Corbyn. Then it disappeared, and her face grew expressionless. It had happened so quickly Baldwin feared he had imagined it.
Jane clasped her hands in front of her as she turned her attention back to Baldwin. “Mother mentioned that you would like to speak to me.” Her words were devoid of emotion.
“I would,” Baldwin confirmed.
