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“You have been married for a month now,” Oliver commented. “Any regrets?”
“None.”
Oliver walked over to the drink cart and picked up the decanter. “You sound like a fool blinded by love.”
“One day, you will understand,” Baldwin said, leaning back in his chair.
“As I have stated previously, I have no desire to wed.” Oliver removed the stopper and poured himself a drink. “A wife brings a whole host of problems.”
“Madalene brought joy back into my life,” Baldwin shared. “She is the reason I wake up with a smile on my face every morning.”
Oliver took a sip of his drink. As he lowered his glass, he asked, “Do you miss working as an agent?”
“At times, yes,” Baldwin replied. “But I have more than enough to keep me busy at the moment.”
“I can imagine that is the case. After all, your investments and portfolio are quite extensive.”
Baldwin glanced down at the pile of ledgers on his desk. “I could always use your help, you know.”
“I am not interested in helping to run an estate,” Oliver said. “Perhaps you could ask Jane. She has already proved that she has an aptitude for it.”
“I believe I might, especially since she did such a wonderful job while I was gone.”
Oliver walked over to the settee and sat down. “I do wonder if Jane will ever be able to look at me without disdain in her eyes.”
“Give her time,” Baldwin encouraged. “She has started to come around with me.”
“Perhaps, but I don’t think time will change it.”
“Then what will?”
Oliver shrugged. “Frankly, I don’t know. It isn’t as if I can stop the ruse of being a rakehell, and I can’t tell her the reasons behind it.”
A familiar voice came from the doorway. “No, you most assuredly cannot,” Corbyn said as he closed the door. “That could jeopardize your cover.”
Oliver turned his attention towards the leader of the agency. Corbyn may have only been a few years older than him, but he was responsible for all the agents of the Crown. He was dressed in a blue jacket, white waistcoat with matching cravat and buff trousers.
“I take it that you are not attending the ball this evening,” Oliver commented.
Corbyn huffed. “I’m afraid I am much too busy to be attending frivolous social events.”
“Do you require any assistance?” Oliver asked hopefully.
“I do not,” Corbyn replied. “Besides, you need to be at the ball and listen for anyone that spouts radical nonsense.”
“I tire of this assignment.”
Corbyn grew serious. “I have received a tip that a radical group has recently formed, and members from Society are joining their ranks.”
“Truly?” Oliver asked.
“I checked the information myself,” Corbyn replied, “and it sounded credible.”
Oliver leaned forward and placed his glass on the table. “I shall keep my eyes and ears open then.”
“Good,” Corbyn said as he came to sit down across from him. “I knew I could rely on you.”
Baldwin rose from his desk and walked over to the drink cart. “Would you care for something to drink?”
