“Ah, I understand now.”
“At first, I enjoyed the gambling halls,” Oliver admitted. “I even made a small fortune at the tables, but now I find them rather irksome.”
“You should ask for a new assignment.”
Oliver shook his head. “I am in a perfect position to spy. Furthermore, the scheming mothers generally avoid me for their matchmaking because of my despicable reputation.” He lifted his brow. “But I daresay that you won’t be so lucky.”
“I intend to avoid the marital noose.”
Oliver chuckled. “It wouldn’t be so terrible for you to marry, assuming you find someone you can tolerate.”
“That is the problem,” Baldwin replied. “I don’t tolerate very many people.”
“No, you don’t,” Oliver joked. “I see that you haven’t changed.”
Baldwin winced at his brother’s remark, knowing that wasn’t true. He had changed drastically over these past few years, and not for the better.
“What is it?” Oliver asked.
“Nothing,” Baldwin said.
“It clearly is something,” Oliver pressed, eyeing him with concern.
Baldwin sighed deeply. “I have seen some terrible things, Brother,” he admitted. “Things that I cannot unsee.”
“We have that in common, you and I,” Oliver replied with a look of compassion.
“The royalist group I worked with was merciless,” Baldwin confessed. “They wanted to get their message across at any cost, and they didn’t care who got hurt in the process, including children.”
“That is awful.”
Baldwin grew silent as he turned his gaze towards the window. “I am not the same man I was before I left for France,” he admitted.
“In what way?”
“I’m angry,” Baldwin shared, bringing his gaze back to meet his brother’s. “I’m angry that there are people out there intending to harm innocent people to advance their own selfish agendas.”
Oliver uncrossed his arms. “That is why we do what we do,” he said. “We go after the radicals and rein them in.”
“But who reins us in?”
Oliver gave him a questioning look. “Why would you need to be reined in?”
Baldwin ran his hand through his brown hair, finding the familiar rage brewing inside of him. He couldn’t seem to explain his emotions clearly, nor could he understand them himself. All he knew was that every day was a struggle to go on. His haunted past was colliding with the present, making his life unbearable.
“Forget I said anything,” Baldwin remarked dismissively.
“Baldwin—”
But Baldwin spoke over his brother. “I mean it.” His voice was firm.
Oliver frowned, but he wisely changed subjects. “How did your time at Floyd’s Coffeehouse go?”
“It went well,” he admitted. “I discovered that a group of men meet late at night, near closing, and they tend to keep to themselves.”
“Do you suppose they are the radicals that you are looking for?”
Baldwin shrugged. “I’m not sure, but it’s a start.”
“That it is,” Oliver agreed.
“I should note that an odd thing did transpire yesterday.”
Oliver sat straighter in his seat. “Which was?”
“A lady came to the coffeehouse and went upstairs to visit a female tenant,” he explained. “They exchanged a few words and then she departed by way of coach.” He intentionally left out a few parts of the story that were not important.
“That is peculiar,” Oliver commented. “Why would this lady risk her reputation to visit a coffeehouse?”
“That is what I have been pondering myself, but I am at a loss,” Baldwin answered.
“Women are rather unusual creatures,” his brother mused.
“That they are,” Baldwin agreed. “Perhaps you would care to join me this evening at the coffeehouse?”
Oliver nodded. “I believe a coffeehouse is a splendid way to spend one’s evening.”
“That it is.”
“Besides, it is either the coffeehouse or attending a ball with Mother and Jane.” Oliver shuddered.
Baldwin laughed. “I won’t tell Mother you said that.”
“What won’t you tell me, dear?” his mother inquired as she glided into the room.
With a smile on his face, Baldwin asked, “Would it be all right if Oliver joined me at the coffeehouse tonight instead of escorting you and Jane to the ball?”
A look of displeasure crossed his mother’s expression as she turned her attention towards Oliver. “But what will we say to Lady Haskins when she asks about you?”
“You could always tell her that I am at a coffeehouse,” Oliver attempted. “I doubt that she would take offense.”
His mother pouted. “You promised to escort Jane and me, and I have been looking forward to it all week.”
Oliver huffed. “Fine,” he said. “I will escort you to the ball, and I will accompany Baldwin to the coffeehouse another time.”
His mother’s pout turned into a victorious smile rather quickly. “See there,” she remarked, “I knew you would come to the correct decision on your own.”
Baldwin couldn’t help but be impressed by his mother’s theatrics. The agency could use someone like her.
His mother now focused her attention on Baldwin with a twinkle in her eye. “I think we should have a ball in your honor,” she announced.
“Pardon?” He had not been expecting that.
“A ball,” she repeated, “to celebrate your return to Society.”
Baldwin shook his head. “I do not want a ball.”
“But you must!”
“And why is that?”
His mother looked at him like he was a simpleton. “You have been gone for the past three years, and many members of the ton believe you to be dead.”
“Good,” Baldwin said. “I can’t stand most of those busybodies anyway.”
His mother placed a hand on her hip. “Most of those busybodies are my dear friends, and I will not have you make disparaging comments about them.”
Baldwin leaned forward in his chair and rested his arms on his desk. “Regardless, I do not want a ball.”
“I’m afraid it is too late.”
“Meaning?”
His mother looked at him innocently. “I was so sure that you would want a ball that I already sent out the invitations.”
“How is that possible?” Baldwin asked in disbelief. “I just returned home.”
“I thought it would be best if we planned it straight away.”
“We?”
His mother blinked. “Don’t you want to be involved in the details?”
“No, I don’t,” Baldwin declared bluntly.
“That is a shame,” his mother said as she walked towards the door. “But, fortunately, Jane and I will be happy to plan the whole
