A Dangerous Scheme
A Dangerous Scheme
Regency Spies & Secrets #4
Laura Beers
© Copyright 2021 by Laura Beers
Text by Laura Beers
Cover by Dar Albert
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 7968
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Produced in the United States of America
First Edition August 2021
Kindle Edition
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Thank you for your support of a small press. At Dragonblade Publishing, we strive to bring you the highest quality Historical Romance from some of the best authors in the business. Without your support, there is no ‘us’, so we sincerely hope you adore these stories and find some new favorite authors along the way.
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Additional Dragonblade books by Author Laura Beers
The Regency Spies & Secrets Series
A Dangerous Pursuit (Book 1)
A Dangerous Game (Book 2)
A Dangerous Lord (Book 3)
A Dangerous Scheme (Book 4)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Laura Beers
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter One
England, 1814
Mr. Guy Stewart found criminals to be intolerably stupid. It was the dead of night, and he was chasing after a suspect in the middle of the rookeries, rather than being home in a warm bed. How he wished he could just shoot this man and be done with it.
He wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. He had been chasing this man for nearly ten blocks and had no idea how this was going to end. Surely, at this high speed, the suspect must be near exhaustion.
The suspect darted into a darkened building, and he quickly followed behind. He heaved a sigh when he saw the man start up the rickety stairs.
“Just let me arrest you,” Guy grumbled up at the man.
The man didn’t reply, not that he had expected him to, but continued to race up the four flights of stairs. Guy followed behind, pleased that the man was going to trap himself on the roof, ending this pointless chase. As he stepped onto the roof, he saw the man running towards the edge of the building.
“No!” he exclaimed. He hadn’t expected the man would take his own life.
But to his surprise, he watched as the man sailed through the air and landed with a thud on the neighboring roof. Botheration, Guy thought. Now he would have to do the same thing, or he would lose the suspect. He sprinted towards the edge of the building and jumped, hoping he had calculated the distance correctly. He landed on top of the other roof and took only a moment to collect his bearings.
Guy ran through the door and started down the stairs when he heard a woman screaming for help. His steps faltered, knowing he couldn’t just pass by and not assist the woman. But if he did stop to help her, the suspect would be long gone, and he would have to answer to Corbyn. Groaning, he turned towards the woman’s screams and threw open the door.
The suspect he’d been chasing was holding the woman in front of him, pointing a pistol at her temple. He was a rather unfortunate-looking man, with a large head on a small frame. “If you come any closer, I will kill her,” the man declared, his eyes betraying his fear.
Guy retrieved his pistol from the waistband of his trousers and stepped into the small room. “If you kill her, then I will kill you,” he said. The woman whimpered in response.
The suspect forcefully backed the woman over to the broken window and looked out. “You have to let me go.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“I did nothing wrong.”
“You plotted to kill the prince regent.”
The suspect shook his head. “I did no such thing,” he said. “I was drunk and just spouting nonsense.”
“If that is the case, then you have nothing to fear.”
“I’m not going back to prison!” the suspect shouted. “The rats gnaw at your toes when you’re sleeping.”
Guy brought his pistol up. “Then it would have been smart if you’d avoided breaking the law.”
The suspect ducked behind the woman, like the coward that he was. “But I did nothing wrong,” he declared. “You must believe me.”
“I don’t,” Guy replied. “It has been my experience that innocent men do not run and hold women hostage.”
“You left me little choice in the matter.”
Guy clenched his jaw. “Unfortunately, this will not end well for you,” he said. “I will either kill you or arrest you, and I would prefer not to kill anyone today.”
“I will pay you if you let me go.”
“How much are you offering?” he asked, feigning interest.
Looking hopeful, the suspect said, “Five pounds.”
“No,” he replied. “That is not enough to tempt me.”
“Ten pounds?”
Guy pretended to mull it over as he debated his chances of shooting the suspect without causing any harm to the woman. It was not looking good, he realized. The coward was keeping only his head exposed, and even though his head was larger than most, it was still a small, moving target.
“What do you say?” the suspect asked.
“Nah,” Guy replied. “I would rather keep my job than let you roam free.”
The suspect’s eyes narrowed. “You are making a big mistake, Runner.”
Taking a step closer, Guy clarified, “I am not a Runner. At least, not anymore. I got tired of the red waistcoats.”
“Then who are you?”
Gu
y smirked. “I am just a man who likes to uphold the law.”
The suspect cocked his pistol. “It doesn’t matter who you are,” he stated. “Step back and let me leave this room.”
Guy shook his head. “I can respect that you are rather mulish, but I’m afraid I can’t let that happen.”
“Then I will kill the woman!” the suspect exclaimed.
“That would be a mistake on your part, since it would be signing your own death warrant,” Guy remarked. “Either my bullet will do you in, or the noose will.”
The suspect turned the pistol towards him. “Perhaps I will just kill you and be done with it.”
Guy noticed the suspect’s hand was shaking, and he could hear the quiver in the man’s voice. This man was no killer, but desperate men tended to do desperate things when backed into a corner.
“If you don’t put down the gun, I will kill you,” Guy said firmly. “I tire of this game.”
He could see the indecision on the man’s face when he heard Lord Evan Corbyn’s commanding voice coming from the doorway. “Put your pistol down, or I will do you the honor of killing you myself.”
Guy turned and saw Corbyn pointing his pistol at the suspect, his hand not wavering in the slightest.
“I would do what the man says, before you end up dead,” Guy advised, turning back towards the man in question.
The suspect’s eyes grew wide, and he ducked further behind the woman. “If you try to shoot me, then you will hit her.”
Corbyn let out a dry chuckle. “You underestimate me,” he remarked in a steely tone. “I never miss.”
“It’s true.” Guy met the suspect’s gaze and attempted to reason with him. “Give up now, or you won’t leave this room alive.”
“But—” the suspect attempted.
“I know, you did nothing wrong,” Guy mocked, speaking over him. “But I would be remiss if I did not point out that you are breaking the law right now.”
Corbyn took a step into the room. “This building is surrounded, and you have no chance of escaping. If I have to count to ten, then I might just shoot you before I finish.”
The suspect’s eyes darted between both men before saying, “I give up.” He lowered the pistol to his side and released his hostage.
“Wise choice,” Corbyn remarked.
Guy cautiously walked over to the man and grabbed the pistol, which he tucked into the back of his trousers. Then, he grabbed the man’s arm and forcefully led him towards the door.
He left Corbyn behind to speak to the woman and led the man down the stairs and out of the building. They stopped on the street as Hobbs pulled up in a wagon.
“Toss him in the back with the others,” Hobbs ordered.
“You heard the man,” Guy said as he pushed the suspect towards the back of the wagon. Another agent stood guard as the man stepped up into it.
Corbyn came to stand next to Guy as the wagon drove away. “It took you entirely too long to arrest that suspect.”
“I am well aware, but the man jumped from roof to roof like he was a circus performer.”
Corbyn turned to face him, his face stern. “You should have anticipated that.”
“How was I supposed to do that?”
“An agent always expects the unexpected, especially from criminals who are desperate to avoid capture.”
“I could have shot him, but I didn’t,” Guy said. “That should count for something.”
“It does, but we don’t negotiate with criminals.”
Guy huffed. “I wasn’t trying to negotiate with him,” he argued. “I just wanted to ensure that the woman walked away with her life.”
“That she did, but only with my assistance.”
“You don’t know that.”
Corbyn lifted his brow. “It matters not,” he said dismissively. “What matters is that we arrested the suspect and all his conspirators.”
“That we did.”
“You and Hobbs have worked well as a team,” Corbyn commented. “It took you only a couple of weeks to root out those rebels.”
“I prefer to work alone,” Guy muttered.
“Most agents do, but you have only been working at the agency for a little over a month now,” Corbyn said. “It is best if we ease you into your new role.”
“That isn’t necessary,” Guy replied. “I was a Bow Street Runner for ten years before I became an agent.”
“Yes, but your experience as a Bow Street Runner makes it even harder to train you.”
Guy was well aware of Corbyn’s animosity towards the Bow Street Runners, but he decided to press the point anyway. “That is not true,” he defended. “I am more than capable of working my own case. I used to do it all the time.”
Corbyn frowned. “Being an agent is much more complex than working as a Bow Street Runner.”
“I am well aware.”
“Are you?”
“I am.”
Corbyn watched him for a long moment, his expression giving nothing away. “I do have a case that I would consider allowing you to work.”
“Which is?”
“There is unrest in a village called Anmore,” he shared. “There are talks that the coal miners are starting to form a trade union.”
“Trade unions are illegal.”
“I am well aware,” Corbyn remarked dryly, “but the people are feeling desperate. The working conditions at the colliery are known to be rather brutal.”
“Why send in an agent?”
Corbyn glanced over his shoulder before saying, “Someone is attempting to unite the various unions in the region, which would make them quite dangerous. If we don’t do anything, the miners could unite and stage a revolt.”
“Do you have any leads on who wants to unite the unions?”
“I do not.”
Guy bobbed his head. “I will take the case,” he said. “I have gone on a lot less.”
Corbyn perused the length of him and gave him a disapproving look. “You look terrible,” he commented. “You need to bathe.”
“That is generally what happens when I’m forced to chase a suspect through the rookeries.”
“Meet me at the office tomorrow and we will discuss the particulars of the case,” Corbyn ordered.
“Will do.”
Corbyn took a step back, then said, “You’d better not disappoint me, Stewart.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
After he was dressed in a brown jacket with buff trousers, Guy descended the stairs of his rented house and smelled food wafting out of the kitchen. He turned the corner and saw his sister stirring something in a pot hanging over the hearth.
“Good morning,” he greeted.
Esther smiled over at him. “Good morning,” she replied. “If you take a seat, I will get your breakfast for you.”
“I would appreciate that.” He pulled out a chair and sat down.
Esther wiped her hands on the white apron tied around her waist before she picked up a bowl from the counter. “You got home rather late last night,” she remarked as she placed the bowl in front of him.
“I did.”
“May I ask what kept you out late?”
“Nothing that would concern you.”
A smirk came to her lips as she retrieved a spoon for him. “I assume you were doing important Runner business.”
“I believe I already explained why Bow Street Runners do not like to be referred to as ‘Runners’.” Guy knew he shouldn’t feel bad for intentionally deceiving his sister about how he occupied his time, but it was for her own safety that she didn’t know he was an agent of the Crown.
She extended him the spoon, then said, “You did, but it is fun to goad you early in the morning.”
He shook his head. “If you are not careful, I will take you to the market and sell you off.”
Esther laughed, as he’d intended. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said. “After all, who would make you hot rolls for your breakfast?”
“I suppo
se I would have to learn to cook.”
“You would starve, and you know it.”
Guy put his hands up in surrender. “You are right,” he replied, smiling. “I wouldn’t be able to do the cooking and cleaning as well as you do.”
“Thank you.”
Glancing towards the door along the back wall, he grew serious. “How is Mother?”
All humor was stripped off her face. “She is not doing well, I’m afraid.”
“What’s wrong now?”
“The doctor is a quack,” Esther said. “He keeps blood-letting her, even though she is getting weaker and weaker with each pass.”
“Blood-letting is a perfectly acceptable treatment,” Guy defended.
“It just doesn’t seem to help her.” Esther picked up a bowl and joined him at the table. “We need to speak to another doctor about her condition.”
“We have spoken to two doctors already.”
Esther picked up her spoon and dipped it into the bowl. “Perhaps it is time to seek out a consulting physician.”
“I wish we could, but they are more than we can afford.”
“I can see the fight draining out of her,” she admitted. “I worry it is only a matter of time before she passes.”
“Let’s hope not.”
After swallowing a bite of her food, Esther suggested, “Perhaps I could take in sewing to help with the cost of her medical bills.”
“No, I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that,” he said with a shake of his head. “After all, you already do so much.”
“You aren’t asking. I’m offering.”
“I don’t like this. I should be the one providing for you.”
Esther reached out and placed her hand over his. “You already do,” she said. “If it wasn’t for you, we would be in the poorhouse.”
“It is my duty to take care of you.”
“You are a good brother, but I want to help ease your burdens,” she remarked. “You already work long hours as a Bow Street Runner, especially this past month.”
“It is the least I could do for you.”
Removing her hand from his, Esther said, “If I take in odd sewing jobs, it might even allow you to be home more.”