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“Why do you say that?”
“I have been trying to get your attention for the past few minutes.”
Baldwin placed his nearly-full tankard down on the table. “I was thinking about how I intend to spend my money.”
“It is rather a large sum for a man like you.”
“I would agree.”
The serving wench approached the table and asked, “Can I get ye another round?”
Baldwin shook his head. “Not for me,” he said. “We have been drinking for hours, and I’m afraid I have met my limit.”
Morton waved the serving wench off with a flick of his hand. “I have been meaning to ask you if you have any experience with explosives.”
“Minimal,” he replied.
“That is good.”
“Why do you ask?”
Morton leaned closer and lowered his voice. “We are going to do something that will incite a revolution.”
Baldwin looked at him expectantly. “Which is?”
“We are going to assassinate Lord Liverpool, Lord Sidmouth, and Lord Desmond,” Morton revealed, his eyes growing dark.
With a baffled expression, Baldwin asked, “I understand killing the Prime Minister and the Home Secretary, but I don’t understand why you wish to kill Lord Desmond. After all, isn’t he a champion for the people?”
Morton scoffed loudly. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “He has been stealing money from the workhouses for years.”
Baldwin frowned. “How do you know that?”
“I know a man who works as a solicitor for Lord Desmond, and he informed me that Desmond is contracted to run ten workhouses in London,” Morton shared. “He intentionally inflates the number of the poor inmates to get additional funding for the workhouse, then he takes the money and lines his own pocket.”
Baldwin clenched his jaw. “That is despicable. We must stop him.”
“How?” Morton huffed. “It isn’t as if anyone would believe a solicitor over an earl. It would take a duke to level charges against him before anyone takes them seriously.”
“Or a marquess,” Baldwin muttered.
“That, too, but I don’t run in those type of circles.”
“Nor I,” Baldwin said, “but we can’t keep letting Desmond get away with it.”
Morton pushed his empty tankard to the side. “Don’t worry,” he assured him. “Desmond will get what he deserves.”
“How do you intend to do that?”
Morton’s eyes darted around the room. “Are you familiar with how the French royalists attempted to assassinate Napoleon in 1800?”
“I am,” Baldwin replied. “The conspirators attached a large wine cask to a cart and loaded it with a bomb. They laid in wait for Napoleon’s carriage, but they were too late, and they failed in their attempt.”
Morton nodded in approval. “Their plan was brilliant, but they lit it too late, and the gunpowder they used was bad, causing a few more seconds of delay.”
“If I recall correctly, they caught most of the conspirators, but one was able to flee to the Americas.”
A smile came to Morton’s lips. “They didn’t catch all the conspirators.”
