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Corbyn bobbed his head. “That sounds delightful.”
As Baldwin filled the glasses, he commented, “You work entirely too hard, Corbyn.”
“Someone has to,” Corbyn replied with a smile. “I don’t have the luxury of retiring to spend time with a lovely wife.”
Baldwin chuckled. “You could rectify that problem by finding a wife.”
“I think not,” Corbyn remarked firmly. “I have no desire to be tied down to a woman.”
“I don’t know why you and Oliver are both so opposed to matrimony,” Baldwin commented as he walked a glass over to Corbyn. “I find it suits me most admirably.”
Corbyn accepted the glass and said, “Oliver almost got married, but he was wise enough to cry it off.”
Baldwin shifted his curious gaze towards Oliver. “Is that so?”
Frowning, Oliver replied, “It is not something I like to speak of.”
“I hadn’t realized you were even engaged,” Baldwin pressed. “When did this happen?”
“While you were in France,” Oliver revealed.
Baldwin came to sit down on the settee next to him. “Who were you engaged to?”
He paused. “Miss Charlotte Lockhart.”
With an expectant look, Baldwin asked, “Pray tell, what happened?”
“If you must know, she broke the engagement off.”
“Why?” Baldwin pressed.
Oliver shook his head. “Are you always such a busybody?”
Baldwin grinned. “I am just trying to make sense of what happened.”
Rising, Oliver walked over to the darkened window and stared out. “I always knew that I was going to marry Charlotte, even from a young age,” he shared, “but she took issue with my growing reputation amongst theton.”
“You mean being a ‘rakehell’?” Baldwin questioned.
“Precisely,” Oliver replied. “I tried to convince her that I would be faithful, but she didn’t believe me. Eventually, she decided to call off our engagement.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Baldwin said.
“It was for the best,” Oliver remarked, his words sounding forced to his own ears. “Sadly, she went on to marry Lord Albert Hughes but died during childbirth.”
Baldwin’s voice was filled with compassion as he murmured, “That is awful news. I had no idea.”
“Being an agent is not conducive to having a wife,” Oliver muttered as he turned back around to face them.
Corbyn nodded. “I would agree.”
“Regardless, a foundation built on lies would have eventually come crumbling down,” Oliver remarked. “It wasn’t as if I could tell her the truth about me.”
“That is true,” Baldwin agreed, “but I—”
Oliver cut him off. “May we speak of something else now?” he asked firmly.
Baldwin eyed him with concern. “I suppose we can,” he hesitated, “for now.”
